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girls”—the same, whether we were rich or poor, Anglo or Mexican, smart or utterly lacking in any talent whatsoever. She was firm without being stern, never raised her voice or lost her temper, but it would have been unthinkable for any of us to disobey her. She would have made a fine horsewoman, but that wasn’t her Purpose.
    I also really liked the academy. A lot of the girls moped around feeling homesick at first, but not me. I had never had it so easy in my life, even though we rose before dawn, washed our faces in cold water, attended chapel and classes, ate corn gruel, practiced piano and singing, mended our uniforms, swept the dorms, cleaned the dishes and privies, and attended chapel again before going to bed. Since there were no barn chores, life at the academy felt like one long vacation.
    I won a gold medal for my high scores in math and another for overall scholarship. I also read every book I could get my hands on, tutored other girls who were having problems, and even helped some of the sisters grade papers and do their lesson plans. Most of the other girls came from rich ranch families. Whereas I was used to hollering like a horse trainer, they had whispery voices and ladylike manners and matching luggage. Some of the girls complained about the gray uniforms we had to wear, but I liked the way they leveled out the differences between those who could afford fancy store-bought clothes and those of us, like me, who had only home-dyed beechnut brown dresses. I did make friends, however, trying to follow Dad’s advice to figure out what someone wanted and help her get it, though it was hard, when you saw someone doing something wrong, to resist the temptation to correct her. Especially if that someone acted hoity-toity.
    About halfway into the school year, Mother Albertina called me into her study for a talk. She told me I was doing well at Sisters of Loretto. “A lot of parents send their girls here for finishing,” she went on, “so they’ll be more marriageable. But you don’t have to get married, you know.”
    I’d never thought much about that before. Mom and Dad always talked as if it was a matter of course that Helen and I would marry and Buster would inherit the property, though I had to admit I’d never actually met a boy I liked, not to mention felt like marrying. On the other hand, women who didn’t marry became old maids, spinsters who slept in the attic, sat in a corner peeling potatoes all day, and were a burden on their families, like our neighbor Old Man Pucket’s sister, Louella.
    I wasn’t too young to start thinking about my future, Mother Albertina continued. It was just around the bend and coming at me fast. Some girls only a year or two older than me got married, she said, while others started working. Even women who got married should be capable of doing something, since men had such a habit of dying on you and, from time to time, running off.
    In this day and age, she went on, there were really only three careers available. A woman could become a nurse, a secretary, or a teacher.
    “Or a nun,” I said.
    “Or a nun,” Mother Albertina said with a smile. “But you need to have the calling. Do you think you have the calling?”
    I had to admit I wasn’t sure.
    “You have time to reflect on it,” she said. “But whether or not you become a nun, I think you’d make a wonderful teacher. You have a strong personality. The women I know with strong personalities, the ones who might have become generals or the heads of companies if they were men, become teachers.”
    “Like you,” I said.
    “Like me.” She paused for a moment. “Teaching is a calling, too. And I’ve always thought that teachers in their way are holy—angels leading their flocks out of the darkness.”
    For the next couple of months, I thought about what Mother Albertina had said. I didn’t want to be a nurse, not because I was bothered by the sight of blood but because sick people irritated me. I