“It feels like hell round here, I swear. We need angels.”

– Tobe Nwigwe 🎶 Listen here

Flashback to 3rd grade.

Mrs. Kiefner’s classroom.

The dreaded moment came—reading aloud. I froze, stumbling over words, tripping on sounds that never seemed to come together. My cheeks burned. I prayed for the earth to swallow me whole.

Mrs. Kiefner had a philosophy: if a child couldn’t read by 3rd grade, they shouldn’t move on. She believed they’d spend the rest of their lives playing catch-up. I was that child. I couldn’t read in the 3rd grade.

To give you some context, I’m a child of the 1960s. Back then, there was no IDEA. No Rehabilitation Act. No IEPs or 504 Plans. Kids like me were labeled, left behind, or pushed forward without help.

I remember sitting at my desk, whispering a prayer: God, make me normal. Please send me an angel.

Hebrews 1:14 says: “Are not all angels ministering spirits sent to serve those who will inherit salvation?”

And God did send one—through Mrs. Kiefner.

Instead of letting me drown in shame, she gave me books for silent reading. Not heavy chapter books, but Roman mythology stories with pictures on every page. They were magical, filled with gods, battles, and heroes. She knew I needed more than words. I needed images. I needed hope.

That’s how I learned to visualize. Pictures gave meaning where my eyes failed me. Slowly, comprehension followed.

Two years later, I was reading silently on my own. I still skipped words I didn’t know, sliding over them like potholes on a familiar road. But here’s the thing—I understood the story anyway. For the first time, reading didn’t feel like punishment.

Still, my struggle didn’t vanish. The truth is, I carried that wound with me all the way to college. That’s where skipping words finally caught up with me. Professors didn’t care if I could “get the gist.” They wanted precision, analysis, and fluency. It’s another story…

But looking back now, I see the thread. God sent angels into my life at the right time—through teachers, mentors, and loved ones. Mrs. Kiefner was the first. Her kindness didn’t erase my struggle, but it gave me the courage to keep walking through the fire.

Because sometimes, the answer to a desperate child’s prayer isn’t a miracle. Sometimes it’s a teacher sliding a book across your desk and saying, “This is for you.”

Amen

Copyright © 2025 by Edna Brown. All Rights Reserved.