From the Improvement Era, November 1938 –

Powder of Zernment – A Short Short Story

By Leone Amott Rose

“Mother, what’s ‘powder of zernment’?” Just like that, out of a clear blue sky, Billy asked his question.

“Oh, my word,” gasped Mother. ‘Powder of zernment?’ Why I never heard of it.”

Billy was silent a moment, then said unexpectedly, “How far is it to Sunday?”

Mother saw no connection at all between the questions, but she was used to this from Billy, “This is Saturday, so tomorrow is Sunday. Now run and play.”

Billy turned and ran, but his mind was very busy. Miss Brown would know what “powder of zernment” was. Miss Brown knew everything. Of course Mother knew some things, like “Where’s my cap?” and “What day is this?” and she was a very good sliver-puller-out-of, but she didn’t know things like “Is China up or down?” She said, “Oh, my word, even the Chinese don’t know these days.” But Miss Brown knew. She didn’t laugh, or say “Oh, my word.” She just said, “Sometimes it’s up, and sometimes it’s down. Our Father in Heaven made the world turn around and around so that China wouldn’t always be up, or always be down.” That made it easy to think about, and told about night and day, too.

With restrained eagerness, like a jack-in-the-box, Billy sat through the opening exercises of Sunday School. They were longer than usual, because visitors were on the stand. Miss Brown sat next to him, quiet and sedate, her soft gray hair in an old-fashioned bun at the crown of her head. Abraham, who was Isaac’s daddy, and the bishop, and Miss Brown all had gray hair. Some day Mother and Dad would have gray hair, then they’d know everything, like Abraham, who was Isaac’s daddy, and the bishop, and Miss Brown.

Finally the kindergarten marched down to their room and Billy’s golden moment had arrived. “Miss Brown, what’s ‘powder of zernment’?” There wasn’t the slightest doubt in his sweet little face as he gazed up at her.

Miss Brown’s heart turned over, and landed theoretically on its knees. She silently prayed, “Dear Father, help me to understand what he means. He has such faith in me.”

“Where did you hear the words, Billy?” Her lips trembled slightly.

“My daddy prayed for it when they had the Sunday School meeting at our house. He said, ‘And give us “powder of zernment” in selecting teachers!’ ”

The relief on the kind teacher’s face was visible. “Billy,” she said, ‘power of discernment’ means to let an old gray-haired lady like me teach kindergarten, because I love all little children.”

Sunday School was over. Billy waited around for Mother and Dad to come out of a special meeting with the visitors. He was bursting to tell them what he knew. The meeting was not long, the mind of a little boy to the contrary, but when they came out, they kept right on talking. Even when some of them got into Billy’s auto they didn’t stop. One lady was saying over and over such things as “visual aids,” “methods of approach,” “background of psychology,” and many other things which Billy was storing in his mind to pop out as sticklers for Mother, and eventually be carried to Miss Brown for solution.

Then his daddy said to the lady, “She may not be trained in the modern manner, but she’s a born teacher; she loves her work; and her attendance is perfect.”

Billy had no idea what they were talking about, but there was a moment’s silence after his daddy’s remark, and that was what he had been waiting for.

“Daddy, I know what ‘powder of zernment’ is.”

“Forevermore,” laughed the lady, “what is it?”

“It’s a thing you pray for, and it gives you teachers like Miss Brown. She’s the wonderfullest teacher in all the world.”

The lady, stake supervisor of kindergartens, who had graduated from all her courses with honors, had forgotten to pray for the power of discernment. She sat very still, and learned a lesson from a little child.