“Some of our kids have chronic issues, so Dr. Cole comes by every few months for them, and we do regular yearly checkups for the others. Next year you can get your annual exam from Dr. Cole if you’d like. Or, a lot of our girls have preferred a female doctor. Dr. Harris in town is good. Tell me if you ever need an appointment and I’ll set one up.”

“Okay,” I told her.

“For anything at all,” she added.

“Thank you.”

She finished stacking the clean plates and leaned against the sink, watching me. Was she waiting for me to say something? Before I could think of what, she said, “No more thank-yous. Not for things like this.”

Just then, Lee burst out of the bedroom. His feet pounded through the living room to the doorway of the kitchen, where he stopped still, grinning. Julia and I paused our washing to take in the sight of his rumpled brown hair, his uneven front teeth—one large one, one gap with a new permanent tooth coming in. So proud of himself, so happy. He strode up to us.

“Well. How did it go?” Julia asked.

“I grew three-quarters of an inch!”

I sat on a kitchen chair so that I could be eye to eye with him.

“So much!” I said. “Soon you’ll be up to the ceiling.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “And . . . I’m perfectly healthy.”

Julia widened her eyes. “No wheezing?”

“Nope.”

“I’m so glad,” she said.

___

Later, when the exams were over and Dr. Cole came out of the room, he spotted me and extended his hand. “You must be the new Samantha,” he said.

What passed over my face? I didn’t know I was so transparent, but his eyes widened and he shook his head. “What a strange thing to come out of my mouth. Tell me your name, my friend. I’m eager to know you.”

“Mila,” I said.

“Lovely name. And you’re Lee’s new teacher, correct?”

“Yes,” I said. “Just like Samantha.” I didn’t want to be so sensitive. I tried to say it teasingly, but it came out bitter.

lessons

IN TEACHING SCHOOL: A Handbook to Education on The Farm, Terry and Julia wrote that if students can’t focus it’s best to work with their energy, to be spontaneous and flexible, to meet them where they are. So, one morning when Lee fidgeted all through the math lesson, I said, “Buddy. Your legs look like they want to move.”

He grinned. “They do! They’re saying, ‘Please, please’!”

The field called to me through the window, wide and green and welcoming.

“How fast can they move?” I asked him. “Can they move faster than my legs?”

“Maybe,” he said shyly.

“Let’s race!”