The Sunday School Teacher

Miss Swan couldn't take being a Sunday school teacher any longer. Not for another Sunday。This handful of disrespectful teenagers snapped their gum during prayer time and read magazines during Bible study. But most awful of all，at prayer re-quest they asked the Lord to increase their weekly allowance

"I have had it with you. I quit。"she screamed at the students. "Cool，"Rick said nodding in approval. He was the rudest kid she'd ever met.

It took two months to find a new replacement for that Sunday school class. The pastor escorted Miss Betty Ray in to meet the pseudo-angelic-looking group. New in town，she hadn't heard of their reputation for chasing off teachers. By the look of her pink dress，one size too small，and her bad blonde bleach job，the students obviously felt they had an easy mark. Soon bets were taken as to how long Miss Betty would last



Betty introduced herself，stating that she recently came from the South. She certainly looked like a southern belle who wore outdated clothes and whose beauty had peaked a decade earlier，only she didn't know it yet. Snickers rip pled in the room as she rummaged through the huge shoulder bag she carried for a purse



"Have any of you ever been out of state？"she asked in a friendly tone. A few hands went up. 　

　"Anyone travel beyond five hundred miles？"One hand went up as the snickering diminished



"Anyone visited outside the country？"No hands went up now. The silent teens were puz-zled. What did this have to do with anything？Was she using psychology on them，or was she just plain clueless？

Finally，Betty's bony hand struck on what she had been searching for in her handbag. Pulling up a long tube，she unrolled a map of the world. "What else do you have in there？Lunch？"Someone cracked. Betty smiled lightly and answered，"Cookies for later. ""Cool，"Rick quipped.

Then she pointed with a long fingernail to an odd-shaped continent. "I was born here，"she tapped with her finger. "And I lived here until I was about your age. "Everyone craned their neck to see where it was. "Is that Texas？"Someone sitting in the back asked. "Not even close. It is India. "Her eyes twinkled with joy.



"How did you get way over there to be born？"Betty laughed. "My parents were missionaries there，and that is where my mother was when I came into the world. "

"Cool!"Rick leaned back in his chair duly impressed. Betty fumbled again in her purse，this time pulling out a handful of old wrinkled pictures along with a tin of chocolate chip cookies. They passed the pictures around，viewing each with great in terest. Dark faces stared up from the photos，frozen in time. The kids studied them as they bit into the sweets



　"You don't have to be a missionary--everyone can do something in this world to help another，"Miss Betty said. The hour quickly slid by as she told them her stories about faraway places and what the people were like there and how they lived.

"Wow，this is as exciting as TV。"one young girl told her.



Sunday after Sunday，Betty came to class，tying her lessons to their everyday lives. She told the teens how they could make a difference right now. The students grew to love her，bleached blonde hair and all. The more they liked her，the lovelier she became.



Betty taught that Sunday school class for twenty years. Though she never married，or had children of her own，the town came to think of her as a surrogate parent since she taught two generations of children. At last，her hair grew into a natural gray. Increasing wrinkles about her mouth and eyes added character to her cherub face. Her hands began to shake with age. Every now and then，she received a letter from a former student. There was a doctor，a research scientist，a homemaker，a businessman，and many teachers among them.

One day she reached into her mailbox and pulled out a blue envelope with a familiar foreign stamp in the upper right-hand corner. In the left corner was the name of a boy in that very first Sunday school class，years ago. She recalled how he'd always liked her cookies and seemed so interested in her lessons. A picture slid out of the envelope and onto her lap. Squinting her eyes，she smiled at the man in the photo，still seeing the teenage boy in him. Standing in the rubble，in the city of Delhi，India，he stood with other volunteers who had come to help the earthquake victims.

The caption read，"Because of you，I am here now. "
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