Maria Petrovna appeared in the village school about ten years ago. She was immediately noticeable: small but lively, like a spring, always with a bucket and a broom in hand. She didn’t just work there – she breathed life into that school. She was the first to arrive in the morning and the last to leave in the evening, always with a song on her lips.
The students loved her… as an object of their jokes.
“Hey, Queen of the Broom! How’s your throne of mops?” they would shout from around the corner.
Or they would pour soap into her bucket – very funny, of course.
But Maria Petrovna never got angry. Instead, she would retort in such a way that even the teachers giggled quietly.
“Oh, aren’t you clever! Maybe you want to sweep up after me too? After all, kings are always loafers,” she would say, menacingly waving her mop, but with a smile.
She knew all the children by name, although they didn’t think she cared.
“Ms. Petrovna, why do you always sing?” once asked a fifth-grader named Katya, trying not to laugh.
“To make life merrier for you fools,” she winked and continued to hum something about daisies.
Maria Petrovna seemed simple on the outside. But behind that simplicity, there was always something more. The children didn’t understand it, and the adults didn’t seem to think about it.
She never complained or argued, just did her job. The floors in the classrooms shined, the windows looked like new, and the corridors always smelled fresh. Only the children, in their own way, didn’t notice this.
“Broom! Queen of Cleanliness!” the boys would laugh.
She just smirked:
“At least I have a crown, and you have… lessons and failing grades. Go on, laugh while you can.”
And they did laugh! Then they went home, forgetting about the cleaning lady until the next time. But she was still there. Somewhere nearby. And her humming was always in the background of the school – unnoticed but important.
That day started like any other. Maria Petrovna busied herself with cleaning the desks in the younger classes. She suspiciously looked at the floor where someone had left dirty tracks again and muttered under her breath:
“Who walks like this? Do you also carry such dirty feet home?”
Then she discovered that her favorite rag was missing. Again.
“Where’s my rag, you bandits?” she reproached the boys running past.
They just laughed and dashed away, as if they heard nothing.
Everything was as usual until a scream echoed down the hallway. At first indistinct, but then someone clearly shouted:
“A fox! There’s a fox in the school!”
The noise grew as if someone had hit a huge drum.
Children panicked and ran through the hallways, teachers tried to stop them, but to no avail. Maria Petrovna, forgetting about the rag, peeked into the corridor and froze.
From the school gym, there were dull thuds – apparently, someone had dropped some balls. And in the doorway stood… a real fox. Red as an autumn leaf, with a slim, elongated body. Its eyes sparkled with fear, and its ears twitched nervously.
The principal, trying to keep his composure, peeked out from his office. But upon seeing the fox, he immediately stepped back and closed the door.
“Don’t approach it!” his voice came from behind the door. “It could be rabid!”
Children huddled together in the corner of the hallway like frightened sparrows. The older students tried to look serious, but their nervous fidgeting gave them away. The younger ones cried, and one of them whispered:
“Will it bite us?”
A girl with braids grabbed a boy by the sleeve:
“Sasha, what if it really is rabid?”
“I don’t know!” he muttered, looking at the gym.
Meanwhile, the fox darted to the side and, hissing, pressed against the wall. Its movements were quick, but it was clear the animal itself didn’t know where to run.
The teachers glanced at each other, whispering:
“Should we call the police?”
“Or hunters?”
But no one dared come closer. Only the noise grew louder.
“Quiet, children, don’t make noise,” the deputy principal tried to calm everyone down. But the children didn’t listen, and even she glanced at the fox warily.
The corridor was boiling. Children’s screams and the anxious voices of teachers merged into one continuous cacophony. Amid this panic, Maria Petrovna walked her usual gait, carrying a bucket in one hand and a mop in the other.
“What’s all this commotion about?” she asked loudly, looking around.
The teachers were silent, exchanging glances. A little one spoke up, looking at her with wide eyes:
“A fox, Maria Petrovna! In the gym!”
She stopped as if considering what to do. Then she put the bucket by the wall, adjusted her headscarf, and headed to the gym doors.
“Where are you going?” a teacher called out, clearly in a panic.
“To get the fox, of course. Everyone’s in a fuss,” Maria Petrovna calmly replied and disappeared behind the gym door.
Inside, it was quiet, only a few balls and a couple of mops lay scattered on the floor. In the middle of the hall stood the fox. Red, nervous, with gleaming eyes, it huddled into a ball and snarled, showing its teeth.
“Ah, you beautiful redhead,” Maria Petrovna softly said, looking at the animal. “Why did you come to people?”
She took a couple of steps forward, but without sudden movements. The fox watched her, hissed, but did not try to move.
Maria Petrovna bent down, picked up a ball from the floor, and rolled it gently towards the fox.
“Here, look, it won’t bite you.”
The ball slowly approached the animal. The fox recoiled to the side, tensed up, but stopped snarling.
“That’s right. Good girl,” Maria Petrovna murmured, assessing its reaction.
The mop in her hand didn’t rise threateningly but moved smoothly, like an extension of a confident, masterful hand. With each step of the cleaner, the fox’s aggression lessened, but the tension was still palpable.
Maria Petrovna stood unhurriedly, allowing the animal to get used to her. She knew – patience decides everything.
The woman slightly tilted her head to the side, carefully studying the red guest. The fox, anxiously pressing its ears, sat on the gym floor and darted its gaze between the mop and Maria Petrovna. She moved slowly, as if this was a routine matter, not an emergency.
“Well, beauty, what are you doing here?” her voice was even, kind-hearted. “Got lost, did you?”
The fox didn’t answer, naturally, but froze, as if pondering whether it could trust this strange woman with a broom.
Meanwhile, the children by the window sat quieter than water. Their faces were pressed against the glass, and their breath fogged up the cold surface. Even Vanya, who usually started teasing Maria Petrovna first, sat as quiet as a mouse under a broom.
The mop in the cleaner’s hands moved smoothly, almost tenderly. She carefully nudged it forward, making the fox retreat.
“That’s it. Good. Don’t be afraid,” she spoke as if it were her cat, not a wild predator.
The fox jumped back, its tail twitched, but the panic in its movements lessened. Maybe it understood something in her tone, or maybe it was just too tired to resist.
Maria Petrovna skillfully maneuvered around a table to block the path to the opposite side of the gym. The fox growled again, but still moved closer to the window.
“Well, what are you doing in the school? There’s your forest, freedom. Go on, before someone worse than me comes,” she grumbled with a smile.
And as if it heard her, the fox made a dash. A red blur flickered, jumped onto the windowsill, and slipped outside, disappearing into the greenery.
The children at the window exchanged glances. A whisper swept through like a wave.
“She drove it out! “A real sorceress!” “Wow…”
Maria Petrovna wiped her hands on her apron and looked around the empty gym with some satisfaction.
“That’s all,” she murmured, placing the mop back in the bucket.
In the corridor, a teacher with a worried face met her.
“Maria Petrovna, what happened? The children were scared, shouting something about a fox!”
“Nothing serious,” she brushed it off as if talking about a forgotten backpack. “An uninvited guest came by. Well, I saw her off.”
The children ran out of the classrooms as soon as they learned the danger was over. They gathered around the gym, looking at Maria Petrovna as if she had just won the Olympics. On their faces were mixed relief, admiration, and astonishment.
“Weren’t you afraid of it?” Vanya from the fifth grade was the first to exclaim, his eyes wide open.
“What if it had bitten?” Nastya added, her voice still trembling.
Maria Petrovna, as if nothing had happened, adjusted her headscarf and placed the mop back in the bucket.
“What’s there to be afraid of,” she replied calmly, wiping her hands on her apron. “It was more scared than us. Poor redhead just wandered into the wrong place.”
“Well, you are brave!” someone from the older students exclaimed admiringly.
The children kept gathering. The younger ones stretched closer to her, as if they wanted to at least touch this “superheroine” with a finger. The older ones exchanged glances, and some were not shy to whisper that they should definitely respect her now.
“You really are… a Queen!” suddenly shouted a third-grader with freckles on his nose.
Maria Petrovna squinted, chuckled.
“Queen of the Broom, you mean?”
“No! A real one!” the children shouted in chorus, smiling all at once.
She smirked, and kind wrinkles gathered at the corners of her eyes.
“Well, alright. So be it,” she jokingly bowed, as if she truly accepted the new title. “Only then, as loyal knights, learn to keep order after yourselves, okay? A queen can’t get by without helpers, after all.”
The children laughed, some of them already started picking up backpacks scattered in the panic, while others reached for the balls.
From that day on, everything changed. When someone from the older students, forgetting themselves, again wanted to joke about Maria Petrovna, they were immediately stopped:
“Hey, what are you doing? She saved us all!”
And no one talked about the “Queen of the Broom” with a sneer anymore. Now it sounded with pride.