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 request they asked the Lord to increase their weekly allowances！
“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 She certainly looked like a southern belle who wore outdated clothes and whose beauty had peaked a decade earlier，only she didn，t know it yet.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 puzzled. 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 you 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 was 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 interest. 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.”
斯万小姐再也受不了主日学校教师的工作了。再多干一个星期天都不行！这一群无礼的青少年会在祈祷的时候 把口香糖嚼得啪啪作响，在学习《圣经》的时候看杂志。最糟糕的是：他们竟然在祈祷时要求上帝增加他们每 周的零花钱！
“我受够你们了，我辞职！”她朝学生们喊道。“酷毙了，”雷克边说边点头表示赞同。他是她曾遇到过的最 没有礼貌的小孩。
花了２个月才为那个主日学校班找到新的老师。贝蒂？雷小姐去见这一群假天使模样的孩子们的时候，教区牧师 亲自为她护驾。她初来乍到这个镇上，对这群孩子赶走老师的名声尚无所闻。从她明显小一号的粉红色衣服，以及一头染得不好的金发上，学生们已经明显感到遇到了一个好对付的目标。很快他们开始打赌贝蒂小姐会待 多久。
贝蒂做了自我介绍，说明自己刚从南方来。她的确看起来像一个穿着过时衣服的南方女人，她最美丽的时候已 经过去10年，只是她自己还不知道而已。当她在那个被当作手袋的大背包里面寻找什么东西的时候，窃笑声开 始在教室里此起彼伏。
“你们中有谁去过其他州吗？”她用友好的语调问道。有几只手举了起来。
“有人到过500英里以外的地方吗？”有一只手举了起来，同时窃笑声逐渐消失。
“有人去过国外吗？”现在没有人举手了。这群安静的青少年们有点儿困惑。这跟某事有关系吗？她是在他们 身上使用心理学呢，还是她本来就是这样毫无章法？
最后，贝蒂瘦削的手终于摸到了她在背包里找的东西。她抽出一个长卷筒，打开了一张世界地图。“你背包里 面还有什么呢？午饭？”有人开玩笑地问道。贝蒂淡淡地笑了一下回答道：“待会儿给大家的小点心。”“酷 毙了。”雷克嘲弄道。
随后她用长长的指甲指向一个样子挺奇怪的陆地。“我出生在这里，”她用手指敲了一下，“我一直长到差不 多你们这么大才离开这儿。”每个人都伸长了脖子去看它到底在哪儿。“是得克萨斯吗？”坐在后面的一个学 生问道。“和得克萨斯一点不沾边，它是印度。”她的眼睛高兴地眨了一下。“你是怎么跑到那里出生的呢？ ”
贝蒂笑了：“我的父母是那里的传教士，那就是我降生的时候母亲待的地方。”
“酷毙了！”雷克仰向椅子的后背，很显然感兴趣了。贝蒂又在背包里摸索了一阵子。这次拿出来的是一叠起 皱的旧照片和一盒巧克力小点心。学生们带着浓厚的兴趣观察着照片，并四处传阅。照片里被时间凝固下来的 黑黑的面孔盯着他们。孩子们一边吃小点心，一边研究。
“你们没有必要非要当传教士——在这个世界上每个人都可以为帮助其他人做些事情。”贝蒂小姐说。她为孩 子们讲述有关远方的故事，以及那里的居民是什么样子，他们是怎么生活的，等等，一小时很快地过去了。
“喔，这简直和电视一样精彩！”一个小女孩告诉她。
一个星期天接着一个星期天，贝蒂来到课堂上，把课程融入学生们的日常生活。她告诉这些青少年们他们怎 样可以现在就做出一些有意义的事情来。学生们渐渐地喜欢上她，连同她染过的金发以及她的一切。他们越是 喜欢她，她就变得越可爱。
贝蒂在那个主日学校班教了20年。尽管她从未结婚，也没有自己的孩子，镇子里的人却认为她是母亲的化身，因为她教了两代小孩。最后，她的头发变成了很自然的灰白色。嘴角和眼角不断增多的皱纹给她那张娃娃脸增 添了个性。她的手随着年龄的增长开始颤抖。时不时地，她会收到以前学生的来信。他们中有医生、科学家、 家庭主妇、商人，也有很多老师。