SUMMER CAME, and with it the kind of gorgeous weather California is known for. I completed my credential requirements and then found a job for the coming fall, teaching fifth grade at a school just ten minutes away. The days at Williams & Williams got increasingly difficult once I knew something better was just around the bend.

In my spare time I was in the process of reading the whole Bible, cover to cover, and doing a study with my small group. I also borrowed a couple books on theology and Christianity from the library. The others marveled at how much reading I was able to stuff into a week. “It’s all just a matter of motivation,” I explained, and it was. I never would have spent this much time learning how to be a better secretary.

The summer zipped by at light speed, and then suddenly I was stapling up bulletin boards in my classroom and attending first-year teacher training sessions. I had the names of my students now, all thirty of them, and couldn’t wait to put faces to them. I was giddy with excitement; school started in a week, and I was finally going to teach!

In contrast to the blur of summer, the week before school started was slow as molasses in a Chicago January. With the help of the other fifth-grade teachers I’d planned the first three weeks’ worth of lessons. I finished arranging my room, finished decorating, and was now spending my time reviewing my child psychology and teaching methods textbooks from college.

I’d met most of the teachers and hit it off with a couple of them: Gale was a third-grade teacher who dispensed invaluable advice about classroom discipline, and Amie was a new kindergarten teacher I’d gone out with a couple of times after we’d found out we were both new. We hit it off, so I invited her to the next girls’ night, which would be the Friday at the end of the first week of classes. “A fitting time to party,” I’d joked. “We’ll deserve it for making it through the week!”

On Sunday night, Missy and I went out for dessert with a few other women from the Sunday night service. By that time all the excitement had worn off, and I was starting to get really nervous about facing thirty ten-year-olds in two days.

“They’re just as nervous about facing you,” Missy said. “They have no idea who you are. You’re the mysterious new teacher, so they don’t know whether you’ll be a witch or friend or what.”

I chuckled. “Who knows what I’ll be—a panicky mess, if nothing else.”

“We’ll pray like crazy for you on Tuesday,” Taylor assured me.