The Scholarship jacket

By Marta Salinas - edited version

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 was awarded to 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. My oldest sister, Rosie, had won the jacket a few years back, and I fully expected to also. I was fourteen and in the eighth grade. I had been a straight A student since the first grade and this last year I had looked forward very much to owning that jacket.

My father was a farmer who couldn't earn enough money to feed eight children, so when I was six I was given to my grandparents. 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. This one, the scholarship jacket, was our only option.

In May, close to graduation, I absent-mindedly wandered from my history class to the gym. Another hour of sweating in basketball and displaying my toothpick legs was coming up. Then I remembered my P.E. shorts were still in a bag under my desk. I'd forgotten them!

I had to walk all the way back and get them. Coach Thompson was a real bear if someone wasn't dressed for P.E. I was almost back at my classroom door when I heard voices raised in anger as if in some sort of argument. I stopped. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, I just hesitated, not knowing what to do. I recognized the voices: Mr. Schmidt, my history teacher, and Mr. Boone, my math teacher.

They seemed to be arguing about me!“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.” That was Mr. Schmidt and he sounded very angry. Mr. Boone's voice sounded calm and quiet. “Look. Joann's father is not only on the Board, he owns the only store in town: we could say it was a close tie and—”

The pounding in my ears drowned out the rest of the words, only a word here and there filtered through."...Martha is...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. Shaking, I waited a few minutes and then went in and grabbed my bag. Mr. Boone looked up when I came in but didn't say anything. To this day I don't remember if I got in trouble in P.E. for being late or how I made it through the rest of the afternoon. I went home very sad and cried into my pillow that night so Grandmother wouldn't hear me.

The next day when the principal called me into his office I knew what it would be about. I decided I wasn't going to make it any easier for him, so I looked him straight in the eyes. He looked away and fidgeted with the papers on his desk."Martha,” he said,"there's been a change in policy this year regarding the scholarship jacket. As you know, it has always been free.” He cleared his throat and continued."This year the Board has decided to charge fifteen dollars, which still won't cover the complete cost of the jacket.” A small sound of dismay escaped my throat. I hadn't expected this. He still avoided looking in my eyes."So if you are unable to pay the fifteen dollars for the jacket it will be given to the next one in line.” I didn't need to ask who that was. Standing with all the dignity I could muster, I said,"I'll speak to my grandfather about it, sir, and let you know tomorrow.”

By the time I got home, my eyes were red and puffy from crying all the way. "Where's Grandpa?” I asked Grandma. She was sewing on a quilt as usual and didn't look up. "I think he's out back working in the bean field.” I went outside there he was, hoe in hand. I walked slowly out to him, trying to think how I could best ask him for the money. I knew I had to be honest with Grandpa; it was my only chance. "Grandpa, I have a big favour to ask you.” I said, trembling. He still waited silently. I tried again.

"Grandpa, this year the principal said the scholarship jacket is not going to be free. It's going to cost fifteen dollars, and I have to take the money in tomorrow, otherwise it'll be given to someone else.” The last words came out in an eager rush. Grandpa looked out over the field that was filled with the tiny green bean plants. I waited, desperately hoping he'd say I could have the money.

He turned to me and asked quietly, "What does a scholarship jacket mean?" I answered quickly. "It means you've earned it by having the highest grades for eight years and that's why they're giving it to you." Too late I realized the significance of my words. Grandpa knew that I understood it was not a matter of money. "Then if you pay for it, Marta, it's not a scholarship jacket, is it? Tell your principal I will not pay the fifteen dollars."

It was a very sad and withdrawn girl who dragged into the principal's office the next day. This time he did look me in the eyes. "What did your grandfather say?" "He said to tell you he won't pay the fifteen dollars." The principal muttered something I couldn't understand and walked over to the window. He stood looking out at something outside. I watched the back of his head while I waited for him to speak. "Why?" he finally asked. "Your grandfather has the money. He owns a two-hundred-acre ranch." "I know, sir, but he said if I had to pay for it, then it wouldn't be a scholarship jacket." I stood up to leave. "I guess you'll just have to give it to Joann." I hadn't meant to say that; it had just slipped out. I was almost to the door when he stopped me. "Martha—wait." I turned and looked at him, waiting. What did he want now? I could feel my heart pounding loudly in my chest.

He sighed loudly and went back to his big desk. He watched me, biting his lip. "Okay. We'll make an exception in your case. I'll tell the Board; you'll get your jacket." I could hardly believe my ears. I spoke in a trembling rush. "Oh, thank you, sir! "I wanted to yell, jump, run the mile, do something. I ran out so I could cry in the hall where there was no one to see me. At the end of the day, Mr. Schmidt winked at me and said, "I hear you're getting the scholarship jacket this year." His face looked as happy and innocent as a baby's, but I knew better.