Barbara smiled. Even with all the work she had, she would much rather spend an hour cooking than eat what her mother fixed. The woman couldn’t cook to save her life.
Most of Barbara’s evening was spent at the kitchen table, grading papers. Her ma had made it clear years before that if her girls would cook, she would happily clean. The house ran much more smoothly that way.
*****
Barbara arrived early at school the following morning because she needed to speak with Katie Bedwell about one of her younger children’s difficulty reading. Thankfully, Katie was waiting for her when she arrived.
“Good morning, Mrs. Bedwell!”
“Good morning, Miss Williams. What has Tommy done this time?”
Barbara chuckled. “It’s not Tommy this time. It’s Charles.”
Mrs. Bedwell looked confused. “But…Charles has never had a behavior problem.”
Barbara put her lunch on her desk and sat down. “And he doesn’t now. He’s having a great deal of difficulty learning to read. I work with him every chance I get, and I know his sisters are trying to help him. I’m wondering what more we can do to help him.”
Mrs. Bedwell frowned, looking down at her hands. “I know he’s not as bright as his siblings. I’ve always known that. But not able to read?” She shook her head. “I’ll start keeping him home and working with him there.”
Barbara bit her lip. “He may learn better with someone who has more time to devote to him, but I was hoping there was something I could do.”
“I don’t know what. The others are so smart, and Charles just isn’t.”
“If you are willing, I’d love for him to stay here until Mrs. Thompson is back at school. I’m happy to give him extra time.”
Katie nodded slowly. “I don’t want him to keep you from teaching the others though.”
“I don’t think that will happen. In a few weeks when Mrs. Thompson is back, I’ll check in with you, and at that time I can be his teacher if you’d like. I’d be happy to come to your home and teach him.”
Katie nodded. “That does sound like a good plan. Thank you.” She stood, mindful that the children were getting ready to start school.
“Oh, and while you’re here…Someone needs to deal with Tommy.”
Mrs. Bedwell laughed. “How did I know it would come back to this?”
Barbara grinned. “He’s no longer putting frogs and snakes in my desk, but there’s a little girl he’s been chasing at recess, and she’s afraid of him, so she runs, and she fell and tore her dress. Her mother is not happy.”
“Oh, dear. All right. I’ll talk to him. Again. I think it might help if I send one of his big brothers to spend the day with him at school. He could maybe convince him to stop that behavior.”
“I’m willing to try anything. I get yelled at when a child rips their clothing at school.”
“I’ll send Harvey. All of his younger brothers and sisters listen to him.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Bedwell.”
As soon as Mrs. Bedwell left the school, Barbara’s students started to come inside and take their seats. Barbara smiled at them all, thrilled to be with the children and have a purpose.
“Good morning, Miss Williams!” a chorus of youthful voices greeted her.
“Good morning, everyone!” she responded. As her students settled into their lessons, the sleeves of her attire billowed slightly with each gesture, perfectly fitted to allow for the freedom of movement required by her teaching duties.
During a lull between arithmetic and penmanship, Clara Jensen, a bright-eyed girl of six, approached Barbara with a loose button on her pinafore. “Miss Williams, could you help me with this? Mama says I ain’t quite got the hang of sewing yet.”
“Of course, Clara,” Barbara said, retrieving her sewing kit from her desk. The small wooden box held needles and threads of various colors, a testament to the skills passed down from mother to daughter. As she reattached the button with practiced ease, the children gathered around, watching intently.
“Your stitches are so tiny and neat, Miss Williams,” one of the boys observed.
Barbara was surprised at the attention her sewing was getting. Didn’t the children ever watch their mothers sew? “Thank you, Frederick,” Barbara smiled, tying off the thread. “My mother taught me how to sew. She says a stitch in time not only saves nine but can mend a heart if done with care.” Her words carried the weight of wisdom, and even the rowdiest of her pupils seemed to understand there was more to her statement than mere sewing advice.
