Good morning, children, Faith began when everyone was seated. I'm Mrs. Summers, your new teacher. I look forward to getting to know each of you as we learn together this year. The older students nodded politely while the younger ones squirmed in their seats.
Sam Wilson, sitting in the middle row, regarded Faith with the same pinched expression his mother often wore. Beside him, Jimmy Cooper and Billy Matthews whispered something that made Sam snicker behind his hand. "Mr. Wilson, Mr. Cooper, Mr.
Matthews," Faith called firmly. "In this classroom, we give our full attention when someone is speaking. Is that understood?" The boys straightened, surprised at being addressed so directly. "Yes, madam," they mumbled in unison. "Excellent.
Now, let's begin by introducing ourselves. Please stand when I call your name and tell us something about yourself." As the introductions proceeded, Faith began to get a sense of her students. From 16-year-old Alice Henderson, who clearly wanted to be anywhere but school, to 7-year-old Peter Jenkins, Martha's grandson, who proudly announced he could recite the alphabet backward. When it was Emma's turn, she stood beside her desk, suddenly shy with all eyes upon her. I'm Emma Summers.
I'm 5 and a half. I I like kittens, Sam Wilson smirked. And she ain't got no paw, he whispered, just loud enough for those nearby to hear. Faith felt a surge of protective anger. But before she could speak, Alice Henderson turned in her seat to glare at Sam.
Hush your mouth, Sam Wilson. Not everyone's lucky enough to have both parents living. Sam's face reened, but he fell silent under the older girl's rebuke. Thank you, Emma," Faith said, trying to keep her voice steady. And thank you, Alice, for reminding us all about kindness and respect.
Those will be fundamental principles in our classroom. The rest of the day passed in a blur of assessments and organization, as Faith determined each students academic level and established classroom routines. By the time she dismissed the children at 3:00, she was exhausted but cautiously optimistic about the year ahead. As Faith erased the chalkboard while Emma practiced her letters at a desk, the schoolhouse door opened, admitting Martha Jenkins with a covered basket. "Thought you might be too tired to cook tonight," Martha explained, setting the basket on Faith's desk.
Just some chicken and dumplings. Nothing fancy. Martha, you're an angel, Faith sighed gratefully. It's been quite a day, so I heard. Peter told me all about it on our walk home.
Martha's eyes twinkled. Including how you stood up to the Wilson boy when he tried to tease your Emma. Faith frowned. I wish I could say it was me, but actually it was Alice Henderson who came to Emma's defense. I'm afraid the Wilson family doesn't think much of us.