As I entered seventh grade we had again had a new teacher. She had been a teacher for years at a special needs school and wanted to have the experience of being a teacher at a regular school. The only problem was she wasn't qualified to teach grammar.
The school board made quite a few visits to our house and Mom and Daddy would spend hours visiting with them while we children tried to be quiet in another room. We wondered what they wanted but since we didn't get into trouble after they left we were kept wondering.
Finally one evening after we had our evening devotions Daddy announced that after a lot of thought and consideration they decided to tell the school board that Mom would teach grammar classes several afternoons each week for the next school term.
John, David, and I sat there speechless. Mom wasn't supposed to be our school teacher. She was supposed to be at home sewing, baking, and taking care of customers in our store, and everything else that mother's do, but certainly not be a school teacher. I jumped up and ran upstairs to my room and lay on bed and cried. I had no doubts that Mom would be a great teacher. I really loved her and I wanted to keep her for myself, not share her with a lot of other children.
Daddy came upstairs to see what was troubling me, but I couldn't seem to find a way to tell him. It sounded too silly to put into words. He sat on the side of my bed for a while and talked to me assuring me that we would all work together. Mom would need a lot more help around the house since she had to make lessons for school, and that the afternoons that she came to teach would soon be my favorite times at school.
Daddy was right. The afternoons when grammar classes were taught became the highlights of the school weeks. Everyone loved having Mom as teacher and some how everything was fine even if a lot of other children learned to love her too.