SB Unit 1- "The Scholarship Jacket"

The small Texas school that I went to had a tradition carried out every year during the eighth-grade graduation: a beautiful gold and green jacket (the school colors) was awarded to the class valedictorian, the student who had maintained the highest grades for eight years.

The scholarship jacket had a big gold S on the left front side and your name written in gold letters on the pocket.

The small Texas school that I went to had a tradition carried out every year during the eighth-grade graduation: a beautiful gold and green jacket (the school colors) was awarded to the class valedictorian, the student who had maintained the highest grades for eight years.

I still remember the feeling of shock that rooted me flat against the wall as if I were trying to blend in with the graffiti written there.

I could see him walking between the rows, his body bent over the little plants, hoe in hand.

I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, I just hesitated, not knowing what to do.

“I refuse to do it! I don’t care who her father is, her grades don’t even begin to compare to Martha’s. I won’t lie or falsify records. Martha has a straight A-plus average and you know it.”

I kicked at a dirt clod.

“. . . Martha is Mexican . . . resign . . . won’t do it . . . . ” Mr. Schmidt came rushing out and luckily for me went down the opposite way toward the auditorium, so he didn’t see me.

We couldn’t participate in sports at school because there were registration fees, uniform costs, and trips out of town; so, even though our family was quite agile and athletic there would never be a school sports jacket for us.

We couldn’t participate in sports at school because there were registration fees, uniform costs, and trips out of town; so, even though our family was quite agile and athletic there would never be a school sports jacket for us.

He looked bigger than usual when he stood up; he was a tall, gaunt man with gray hair, and I watched the back of his head while I waited for him to speak. f “Why?” he finally asked.

It seemed a cruel coincidence that I had overheard that conversation. b The next day when the principal called me into his office I knew what it would be about.

Standing with all the dignity I could muster, I said, “I’ll speak to my grandfather about it, sir, and let you know tomorrow.”

It was a very sad and withdrawn girl who dragged into the principal’s office the next day.

Something bitter and vile tasting was coming up in my mouth; I was afraid I was going to be sick.

I still remember the feeling of shock that rooted me flat against the wall as if I were trying to blend in with the graffiti written there.

I stared at him in shock, and a small sound of dismay escaped my throat.

“Okay. We’ll make an exception in your case. I’ll tell the Board, you’ll get your jacket.” g I could hardly believe my ears.

He pulled out the crumpled red handkerchief that he always carried in his back pocket and wiped the sweat off his forehead.