August 15-17, 1969

Nate and I had pressed our parents hard to agree to a wedding well ahead of when they thought we should marry. Rather than wait until after he had graduated from law school, we insisted we would be just fine if we married while he was still a student. Being separated had worn down both of us, and we’d had our fill of it.

The most important piece of that plan, then, was that I find a way to bring home the bacon while he studied. And the best way to do that would be to teach school.

My former teaching position in Chicago had fallen into my lap with very little effort, despite not having a degree in education. So I mistakenly assumed the same thing would happen in Champaign — teacher shortages were still the norm around the country. It was a shock to hear they wouldn’t hire me there, no matter what my experience, because they knew I wouldn’t stay more than a year or two.

There was still one possibility, though.

If I was willing to clock some significant miles every day, I could teach in an outlying district. Danville, Illinois, 40 miles from Champaign, was on a list indicating they had one opening left at a school named McKinley.

Nate and I went back to the phone booth in front of 7-Eleven, and I called the principal. Talking to him was encouraging. His one opening could be mine, he said, if I wanted it. I was thrilled, and felt God was orchestrating this good fortune for us. But then came the bad news. “I assume you’re qualified to teach 1^st grade,” he said.

“First grade?” The job hadn’t been for kindergarten, as I’d thought.

I knew absolutely nothing about teaching 1^st grade except that it was a critical year in every student’s education. Children needed to be taught the fundamentals of reading and math among other things, and it was mandatory that a 1^st grade teacher prepare them well for the more complicated curriculum of 2^nd grade. I felt that if I took the position I’d be in over my head.

So, when the principal asked if I was interested, I was surprised to hear myself say — with gusto — “Absolutely. I’ll take the job!”

Nate and I drove out to see the school that afternoon, and the custodian let us in. As I stood in front of 25 empty desks in the 1^st grade classroom, I wondered why on earth I’d said yes. But my tenderhearted fiancé put his arm around me and said, “Don’t worry, Meg. It can’t be that much different than kindergarten. And the most important thing is that you’ll love the children, no matter what their age.”

I bought that, and stopped worrying. It would be fun to get acquainted with a roomful of new students and to make friends with the other teachers, one in each grade. Besides, how hard could the job possibly be?

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9)