1861

Sixteen-year old Kirsten Larson walked briskly through the tall, dewy grass on her way to school; today was her first day as being a teacher—she would not be late! As she walked she tried to suppress the fears that kept slipping in between the sheets of her thoughts. 'What if they do not respect me?' 'What if I have to punish one of the bigger boys?' no, she could not let these thoughts consume her. The butterflies in her stomach gathered strength. She shook her golden head, trying to shake these thoughts out of the corners of her mind. "I can do this. I can do this." She began whispering to herself in pace with her step, "I can do this."

Approaching the log schoolhouse she let herself into to the building, where, just a few months ago, she was the student. The wooden slabs groaned quietly as Kirsten walked to the front of the abandoned room. She turned slowly to view the rows of split-log benches; for years she had looked forward at one person, now taking in the new perspective, she would be looking out at seventeen young faces, some of whom where her schoolmates just a few short months ago. She breathed in deeply, taking in the familiar smell of burnt wood and chalk dust. Closing her eyes and making two fists she tried to calm her rapidly beating heart. "I can do this" she said to herself with determination.

As she began the tasks of preparing for the first day of school she hummed a lullaby her mother used to coo to her in the cradle. She got water from the well, swept away months' worth of dust from the floor, washed the chalkboard, and placed a slate and a primer on every seat. Once done she carefully held a piece of fresh chalk in her hand, balanced it for a moment before writing her name on the chalkboard: Miss Larson. Smiling as she looked at her graceful script, Kirsten gave herself a pep talk: "I have worked hard for this. I will be a good teacher." She smiled at the letters, and with that, her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of children approaching the school. Turning to greet them, Kirsten smiled to see that the first to arrive were her siblings: Peter, Britta, and five-year-old Hans—excited for his first day of school as well.

"Good morning Miss Larson," Peter said with a devilish grin.

"Good morning Peter." Kirsten smiled back at her tall, lanky brother, "Do you mind ringing the bell and letting everyone know the school day has begun?"

"Mig!" Hans cried.

Kirsten knelt down and looking straight into Hans' crystal blue eyes so as to grab full attention, "No, Hans. We are in school, you must speak English now." Kirsten remembered how difficult she found learning English to be and the embarrassment she had felt about not knowing the language. "Say 'me too.' In school we must speak English."

"Me too." Hans parroted solemnly and went to watch Peter ring the bell. From her seat Britta smiled knowingly at her brother and sister; she had started school the year before and sill found it difficult to separate Swedish from English.

The students filed in, chattering away. With the sight of all these strangers, Hans clung to his brother's legs.

"Welcome, welcome," Kirsten greeted, and the chattering died away. Kirsten gained confidence in the respect her students were displaying. "I am your teacher, Miss Larson. Let us start the day off by organizing our seats. Could everyone line up in the back of the room?" the class rose and walked quietly to the back of the room.

"Good. Could everyone who does not know how to read or write come sit in the first row on the right?" Kirsten ushered the younger children, and a few new older ones as well, to the front of the room and with that Kirsten began to organize her class. Once everyone was seated she went through the mundane chores of the day. Roll call, introductions, and level placement took a good portion of the morning. Many of the students had been her classmates in the last school season with whom she ate lunch with and played games in the yard with. Now these same school friends were treating her with respect deserving of an educator; Kirsten breathed a sigh of relief.

The day passed quickly and before she knew it, her first day as a teacher drew to a close.

"Good job Kirsten! Papa and mama will be proud to hear of your first day." Britta complemented joyfully, "I am glad you are my teacher."

"Me too!" Hans said triumphantly, proud of his English capabilities.

"Yes, fine job. Now let us go home." Peter concluded, grabbing Kirsten's books and placing them atop his own, and with that the Larson siblings walked home to their farm.

Sitting around the large pine dinner table, Mama could not stop beaming with pride at her oldest daughter's accomplishments, "Just a few years ago not a word of English—and now teaching in an American school!'

Papa was glad that she was 'giving back to her community' and helping students just like Miss Winston had done for her. "It is a fine thing you are doing, daughter. I am proud of you."

That night Kirsten fell asleep smiling.