Ch 4 The Math Lesson
The math teacher, a stern but kind-hearted woman named Miss Whitfield, looked at Sara with a mixture of patience and firmness. She had seen many students struggle with their sense of worth, especially those who had faced hardships like Sara had.
Putting Sara back in school was not a decision that Mr. Carrisford made lightly. Sara had been through so much, but she loved to learn. He had found another girls’ school across town but Sara did not board there, she was only a day student and came home each evening. It had only been a few months since Sara had been finally found, and she was struggling with adapting to her new life.
During one of their evening chats, she had told him, “Papa George, I do so want to go back to school. It is my fondest pretend. It’s just that…” her voice trailed off and she stared into the fire.
“What is it, Sara dear?” Mr. Carrisford asked, his voice gentle.
“I am so far behind. The other girls have had two years more learning than I have. I will be so very far behind.”
“Education is not a race, sweet one. You will proceed at your own pace and I will find you the finest teachers in all of Europe.” He had indeed been about to hire an army of tutors for Sara, exacting and overwhelming, when Mrs. Large had suggested a different way.
“Perhaps let the child take just one or two classes to begin again. The math teacher at my daughter’s school is a lovely woman. What Sara needs now, I believe, is reassurance and to build her confidence back before she re-enters the demanding world of academic study. She is not the same as she was before. She will be strong again, but perhaps she needs a bit more time to accept her new life. Remember, she did not ever know if her life would be better again, she had accepted that she would always be stuck in servitude to that woman.”
“That woman!” Mr. Carrisford’s color heightened just thinking of all his adopted daughter had suffered at her hands.
He had returned to Sara after his chat with Mrs. Large and she had liked The Plan very much, to get caught up on her math which had fallen behind, and re-enter school gradually.
“Sara,” Miss Whitfield interrupted her daydream gently but firmly, “Are you ready for today’s lesson?”
Sara nodded, but her face was anxious.
Mrs. Whitfield sat down beside her for a moment. “You’ve been through more hardship than most of my students, and yet you’ve come out of it with your kindness and grace intact. That in itself is remarkable.”
“I do not feel like I belong here.”
“You must learn to accept the good things as they come. They are not rewards, just as the bad things were not punishments.”
Sara looked down at her hands, twisting them nervously. “Life was hard, yes, but no more than so many others. Now it feels like I’ve taken more than my share of kindness. What if I haven’t earned it?”
Miss Whitfield smiled softly, leaning forward. “Do you think you can only accept what you’ve earned’? That’s not how life works. The people around you—your friends, your guardian—they care for you because they love you, not because they expect something in return. And you give of yourself freely to others, don’t you?”
Sara nodded slowly. “I suppose so.”
“Then think of it this way,” Miss Whitfield continued, “kindness is like a circle. It flows from one person to another, and sometimes it comes back to you. It’s not about deserving or earning. It’s about giving and receiving with an open heart.”
“But how do I... let go of this feeling of undeserving?” Sara asked, her voice small.
“It takes time,” Miss Whitfield admitted. “But start by believing that you are worthy of the good things in your life. Accept them as gifts, not as something you’ve taken from someone else. And when you feel overwhelmed by the kindness you receive, remember that the best way to honor it is to continue passing it on, as you’ve always done.”
Sara’s eyes filled with unshed tears as she listened. “I’ll try,” she whispered. “It’s just... hard. Every time I am back in the classroom, I remember the longing I felt, and the anger.”
Miss Whitfield reached out and placed a hand on Sara’s shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. “It is hard, but you’re stronger than you think. You’ve already come so far, and you will continue to grow. Allow yourself to be happy, Sara. You’ve earned that, if nothing else.”
Sara looked up, a small, tentative smile forming on her lips. “Thank you, Miss Whitfield. I’ll do my best.”
“That’s all anyone can ask,” Miss Whitfield said, returning the smile. “Now, shall we have a math lesson perhaps? We have some lovely equations to work on. And who knows, you might just find that math has a way of solving more than just equations.”
Sara smiled and turned her attention back to the lesson. The path to accepting her happiness might be more difficult than she had imagined, but with support and guidance, she knew she could face it. Sara noticed a book on Mrs. Whitfield’s desk. “May I see that book?”
Mrs. Whitfield passed her the worn, leather-bound book with a fond look. The book was very old, its pages yellowed with age, and the cover bore the marks of many years of use.
“Ah, that book,” Mrs. Whitfield said softly. “It belonged to my father. He was a schoolteacher in a small village, far from here. This was his favorite book—filled with puzzles, riddles, and mathematical problems. He used to say that math was like a key, one that could unlock so many mysteries in the world.”
Sara carefully turned the pages, noticing the neat, handwritten notes in the margins. “It must be very special to you.”
“It is,” Mrs. Whitfield agreed. “When I was a little girl, he would sit me on his knee and read from it, showing me how numbers could dance on a page. He had a way of making even the most difficult problems seem like a grand adventure.”
Sara looked up at her teacher, intrigued. “So, you’ve loved math since you were a child?”
Mrs. Whitfield chuckled, shaking her head. “Not at first, no. I actually found it quite frustrating. I was more interested in reading stories and playing outside. But my father was patient. He taught me that math wasn’t just about numbers and equations—it was about patterns, logic, and even a bit of creativity. Over time, I began to see the beauty in it, and that’s when I truly fell in love with the subject.”
Sara smiled, understanding. “It sounds like your father was a wonderful teacher.”
“He was,” Mrs. Whitfield said, her voice tinged with fondness. “He believed that education was the greatest gift you could give someone. When he passed away, I decided to follow in his footsteps. I wanted to inspire others the way he inspired me.”
“Do you ever miss your village?” Sara asked, curious.
“Sometimes,” Mrs. Whitfield admitted. “Life there was simpler, quieter. But London has its own charm, and I’ve come to love teaching here. The students, like yourself, make it worthwhile.”
Sara blushed slightly, feeling honored by the compliment. “I think you’re a wonderful teacher too, Mrs. Whitfield.”
Mrs. Whitfield’s smile widened. “Thank you, Sara. That means a great deal to me.”
Sara hesitated for a moment, then asked, “Do you think I could ever learn to love math like you do?”
Mrs. Whitfield’s eyes sparkled with encouragement. “I believe you can, Sara. You have a keen mind and a curious spirit—two things that are essential for understanding mathematics. And remember, it’s not about loving math for the sake of it. It’s about finding the wonder in it, just as you would in a good book or a beautiful piece of music.”
Sara nodded thoughtfully, feeling a new sense of determination. “I’ll try, Mrs. Whitfield. I’ll try to see math as an adventure.”
“That’s the spirit,” Mrs. Whitfield said warmly. “And I’ll be here to guide you every step of the way. Would you like to borrow my father's book?"
Sara nodded.
"Now, let's get back to our lesson, shall we?”
With a renewed sense of purpose, Sara lovingly placed the book in her satchel and turned her attention to the chalkboard. As Mrs. Whitfield began to explain the next problem, Sara found heeself settling in and enjoying it more than she had before.
"I still don't understand all of it, and I feel so very far behind, but I love Mrs. Whitfield. I'm so glad you thought a slow start would be best." Sara laid her head on Mr. Carrisford's shoulder as they sat together by the fire later that day. "Oh thank you so much!"
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