American Triumph: 1939-1945: 4 STORIES IN 1

by Susan Martins Miller, Norma Jean Lutz, Bonnie Hinman

  “After school, I will watch Isabella,” Rosa offered.

  “That is very kind of you, hija,” Mamá said. She smiled at her only daughter. Mamá had a wet rag in one hand and was already wiping dust off the table again.

  Rosa picked up her lunch bucket. She knew that Mamá had made her a bean sandwich, because that was what she ate every day. Rosa walked down the short road in front of their house and began the two-mile walk to school in town. In the first field, she saw Papá and Tío and Téodoro. They picked up dirt and let it run through their fingers.

  “Good morning, Papá!” Rosa called out.

  “Rosita, how are you this morning?”

  “I am fine, Papá.” Rosa slowed and walked along the fence to see what Papá was doing.

  Papá shook his head as the soil blew through his fingers. “The dirt is too thin. It has no topsoil at all anymore.”

  “It will rain soon,” Tío said. Tío always believed that the drought would be over soon. Already, two years had passed with very little rain. Surely the drought would not last another year.

  “We will need a great deal of rain. I do not think there will be enough. We will waste our seed if we try to plant.”

  “But if we do not plant, then we have no hope of a crop,” Tío argued. “If we have no crop, we have no money.”

  “But at least we will have seed to use when the rains come.”

  “It will be too late by then,” Tío insisted. “We are good farmers. We can take care of the crop, and with a good crop we can afford a tractor. Then next year will be even better.”

  Papá smiled at Tío as he shook his head. “José, when I married your sister, I knew you were stubborn. But I did not think you would be this stubborn.”

  “We will plant,” Tío said. “And we will harvest.”

  Papá looked up at the sky, and Rosa followed his gaze. She saw clouds, but they were not rain clouds. They were more dust clouds. Already, the morning air was hazy. The dust clouds would roll through in the afternoon, and it would be too dark to see anything, even with a light.

  “Okay, José. We will wait a few more days, and we will try to plant. Téodoro, make sure the plow is working well, please.”

  “Yes, Papá,” Téodoro said as he started across the field to the barn. Tío followed him.

  Papá turned to Rosa. “Are you going to school, hija?”

  “Yes, Papá.”

  “You love school more than anyone else I know,” Papá said. “You have a good mind.”

  “Papá, do you think school is only for boys?”

  Papá looked thoughtful. “School is not for everyone. We have plenty of work that does not need book learning. But times are changing. If you want to go to school, then you should go.”

  Rosa looked down and dragged one foot slowly through the dirt. “I do want to go to school, Papá. But I want to go to a good school. The Mexican school is not a good school.”

  “We are Mexicans, Rosita. You can learn from the other children in the Mexican school.”

  “No, Papá, I can’t. They don’t want to learn. They only want to play.”

  “It is not so bad to play sometimes.”

  “School is for learning, Papá. I want to learn. I want to go to the white school.”

  Papá looked at her sharply. “Rosa! You do not know what you are asking.”

  “It’s not fair, Papá. At the white school, they have books and paper and four teachers. They even study at home at night.”

  “When do they have time to help with the work at home?” Papá asked.

  Rosa shrugged. “I don’t know. But if they can do it, I can do it. Please talk to the teachers at the white school and ask them to let me go there.”

  Papá shook his head firmly. “No, Rosita, I cannot do that. I cannot put the family in danger just because you want to go to school.”

  “You mean it would make the white people angry if I asked to go to their school, because they think Mexicans are stupid? I am not stupid, Papá. I can learn if someone will teach me.”

  Papá put his hand on Rosa’s head. “Of course you are not stupid. But to go to the white school—you ask for something very big.”

  “Then please talk to la maestra. Maybe she can give me some extra lessons. I will stay inside and do them while the other children play.”

  “That is the job of Señora Gonzalez. She knows what you need to learn much better than I do. You already read better than I do. What more can I ask of her?”

  “Please, Papá.”

  “You will be late for school, Rosa. I will see you this afternoon.” Papá turned and began to walk across the field. He had that look on his face that meant his mind was made up.

  Rosa walked to town. As she got close to the school, she saw the other children playing already. She knew Señora Gonzalez would let them play for a long time before she called them in for lessons.

  “Why should I go to school there?” she asked aloud. “I will go to the white school.”

  Instead of turning toward the Mexican school, Rosa turned and walked in another direction. She knew where the white school was, and that’s where she was going. Swinging her lunch bucket as she walked confidently, Rosa went where she had always wanted to go.

  CHAPTER 3

  New Friends, New Hopes

  All day, Rosa stayed outside Lowell School, where the white children attended. A gray metal fence kept her off the play yard, but she could see through the fence. When the children came outside for recess or lunch, she moved to a corner. She wanted to watch, but she did not want anyone to see her. While they played, the children chattered in English. Rosa listened for any new words and imagined how to spell them.

  When the children went back inside, Rosa looked through an open window. The children had desks and books and pencils. No one played inside the school the way they did at the Mexican school. If she listened carefully, maybe she would be able to hear the teacher talking. Maybe she would hear about a country far away. Maybe she would learn some new math. Most of the time, she could not hear anything, but she kept trying. Rosa imagined what it would be like to go to this school.

  Rosa went back to the school behind the fence two more times. Nothing would make her happier than to be able to go inside one day. If she could look at the books and papers, she was sure she would learn and learn.

  At the end of the third day, Rosa slowly walked home. At home, Mamá and Papá wanted her to help more. She helped Papá plant an acre of potatoes. The air was so full of dirt that they could hardly see each other as they dug holes. Rosa wore a scarf over her nose and mouth the whole time. Mamá needed help on washday because Tía was too weak. Rosa helped scrub the clothes over the washboard to loosen the dirt. Then she dipped them in a kettle of boiling water. Mamá hung them on the line to dry. It seemed to Rosa that the clothes just got dirty all over again before they even got dry. Every day, the air was thick with dust.

  Now the baby was getting sick, too. A cough shook her tiny chest and made her cry. Rosa tried to take care of Isabella. She cleaned the dust out of one room at a time and put the baby in the clean room. She hung a light blanket over Isabella’s basket to keep the dirt out. The little one struggled to breathe, but she seemed better under the blanket. When Tío looked at his baby daughter, Rosa saw his sadness, and she felt even sadder herself.

  While she helped Mamá and Papá, Rosa thought about the school for white children. Mamá and Papá did not know she had stopped going to the school for Mexican children. If Papá found out she did not go to school at all, he would say she should just stay home. There was a lot of work to do. Mamá and Tía needed her help. So Rosa was not sure she could go back to the school behind the fence many more times. What if Señora Gonzalez asked Mamá why Rosa was not in school? She did not even want to imagine what Mamá would say. Papá would be so disappointed Rosa would hardly be able to stand it. She decided she would go just one more time, and then she would return to the Mexican school.

  Rosa arri
ved early the next morning to watch the white children come to the schoolyard and meet their friends. She listened as they played and called to one another. When the bell rang, they got in lines behind their teachers. Four teachers in one school! The younger students had their own classrooms instead of being together with the older students the way they were at Rosa’s school. After the children went inside, Rosa settled in to watch and listen for the morning. She had a favorite place to sit where the dust was not too bad.

  “What are you doing out here, child?”

  Rosa spun around and blushed. She jumped to her feet and furiously beat the dust out of her dress.

  “Never mind your dress. Why are you out here? You should be in school.”

  The young woman speaking to Rosa was well-dressed with nice shoes and a hat. Rosa did not think the woman was rich, but she took very good care of her clothes. Her golden hair was twisted at the sides of her head and pinned under her hat, and her face gleamed through the dust in the air. She did not look like a teacher in the usual plain dress and sensible shoes. No one had ever looked so beautiful to Rosa.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. I will go now.” Rosa turned to walk toward the Mexican school. She hoped her English sounded right.

  “Where are you going, young lady?”

  “To my school.”

  “Isn’t this your school?”

  “No, ma’am.” Couldn’t the lady see that Rosa was Mexican? Everyone knew that Mexican children did not go to school with white children.

  “Why aren’t you at your school already?” the lady asked. “Aren’t they having class today?”

  Rosa looked down at the ground. She was not sure what to say. Papá did not like it when she talked to strangers, especially white strangers.

  “Don’t be shy,” the lady said. Her voice was softer now. “Tell me why you are here.”

  Rosa could not hold in her words any longer. “I am here because I want to learn! At my school, we play too much. No one cares if we learn! I want a school with a real teacher, and books, and maps.”

  “I have heard that the Mexican children play more than they study.” The lady looked thoughtful for a moment. Then she put out her hand to shake Rosa’s. “My name is Mrs. Madden. I used to be a teacher.”

  Rosa shook Mrs. Madden’s hand shyly. “I’m sorry. I should not have spoken like that.”

  “There is nothing wrong with the way you spoke. Clearly, you have strong opinions. Now, tell me your name.”

  “My name is Rosa, ma’am.”

  “Don’t you have a last name?”

  “Sanchez. My name is Rosa Margarita Sanchez.”

  “Well, Rosa Margarita Sanchez, I am very glad to meet you. I would like to talk more about your school.” She pointed down the road. “My husband is the minister at that church right over there, and we live next door. Would you like to come to my house for milk and cookies?”

  Cookies! Mamá never had extra flour for cookies. But Rosa shook her head. “I do not think Mamá and Papá would like that.”

  Mrs. Madden swatted herself in the forehead. “Of course not. I am a stranger. But I don’t have to remain a stranger. Why don’t you introduce me to your parents?”

  “You want to meet Mamá and Papá?”

  “I certainly do.”

  “I am very sorry. I did not mean to cause trouble. I will go to my own school right away.” Rosa turned to leave again and began to run.

  “Rosa!” Mrs. Madden called. “Rosa, please come back. You don’t understand.”

  Rosa stopped running and turned around, but she did not go close to Mrs. Madden.

  “I do not want to get you in trouble, Rosa,” Mrs. Madden said. “I want to help you.”

  “Help me?”

  “Yes. You want to learn. And I used to be a teacher. Perhaps we can help each other.”

  “Papá will say no.” Papá never spoke to white people except about ranch business. He did not like to try to speak English.

  “We will ask and see what he says.”

  “But we have no money. There are no crops, and there aren’t many animals left.”

  “I understand,” Mrs. Madden said. “The drought has hurt everyone. I am not asking you to pay me. But if you’d like, you could help me take care of my little boy.”

  Rosa’s eyes lit up. “You have a little boy?”

  “Yes. His name is Henry.”

  “I help take care of my little cousin. Her name is Isabella.”

  “Then I am sure you will be a wonderful help to me. Now, tell me how to find your house, and I will come after school.”

  “I’m not sure. I don’t think Papá will like this.”

  “I will talk to your papá. I will explain that this is my idea.”

  “Papá does not know I have not been going to my own school,” Rosa said quietly.

  Mrs. Madden nodded. “I understand your problem. I will take care of that, as well.”

  “But you do not know my papá,” Rosa answered.

  “I assure you I can be extraordinarily persuasive.”

  Rosa looked down at her dusty shoes. “I am sorry. I do not know these words.”

  Mrs. Madden smiled. “It means I will explain to your father, and he will understand and give his permission. Just tell me where you live.”

  Rosa was so nervous she was shaking. She explained to Mrs. Madden how to find her family’s home. When Mrs. Madden left, Rosa scampered off to her own school for the rest of the day. After school, she rushed home instead of walking slowly. She wanted to be there before Mrs. Madden arrived.

  Rosa was afraid Papá would be far away in one of the fields. But he was in the barn. She peeked in a window to make sure he stayed there.

  Mrs. Madden arrived in a car. On the seat beside her was a little boy with shiny white hair. That’s Henry, Rosa thought. Henry was older than Isabella. He was old enough to pull himself up in the seat and lean against his mother. Soon he would learn to walk. Rosa thought she would like taking care of Henry.

  Rosa watched from behind the barn as Mrs. Madden lifted Henry out of the car and walked to the front door. She knocked, and Mamá opened the door. Mamá and Mrs. Madden talked for a few minutes. Rosa was not sure Mamá understood everything Mrs. Madden said. Mamá led Mrs. Madden inside the house, then came back out and went to the barn. Papá followed Mamá back to the house with a puzzled look on his face.

  Rosa’s stomach lurched and tumbled. She had never been this nervous in her whole life. A few minutes felt like days as she waited.

  Finally, Mrs. Madden came out, smiling. Papá was looking around for Rosa, so Rosa stepped out from behind the barn. Mrs. Madden walked straight toward her.

  “Your papá has agreed, Rosa.”

  “He has?”

  “Yes, and your mamá as well. You may come to my house every day after school. First we will have a lesson, and then you will take care of Henry while I prepare supper for my husband.”

  “Yes, ma’am!” Rosa grinned at Mamá and Papá.

  “Here is my address.” Mrs. Madden handed Rosa a small piece of paper. “I will expect you tomorrow right after school. Be prompt!”

  “Yes, ma’am!”

  Rosa thought she must be dreaming. Could this really be happening? She was going to get private lessons from a real teacher!

  The next day, Rosa watched the clock carefully. A few times, she thought the hands of the clock might be stopped. She stared and stared until they moved. Rosa stayed inside, watching the clock while the other children played outside in the afternoon. In only one more hour, she would begin learning, really learning!

  Suddenly all the children rushed back inside, coughing and covering their faces. Oh no! A dust storm! Rosa looked out the window at the billowing dark clouds. This was going to be a big one, she could tell. Already she could barely see anything out of the window. The school building had many cracks and holes. Nothing would keep the dust out.

  La maestra dampened some clean rags in a bucket of water and be
gan to hand them out to the children. Rosa put the damp rag over her face like all the other children did. As the storm blew closer, Rosa’s heart sank. She held the rag over her face with one hand and put the other hand in the pocket of her dress. The little piece of paper with Mrs. Madden’s address was there. Rosa had touched it so many times during the day that it was getting worn out. She did not even need the paper because she had memorized the address.

  But she would never be able to go to Mrs. Madden’s house today. Señora Gonzalez would not let her leave in the middle of the dust storm. Everyone knew that in a dust storm, the air was so dark you could not see where you were going. Even if you had a light, it did not matter very much. The air was too dark to see through and too dusty to breathe. Dust storms could last for hours—or even days. One time, the children stayed at school all night, waiting for the storm to pass.

  Rosa pulled the rag up over her eyes so no one would see the tears sliding down her cheeks.

  CHAPTER 4

  Hurry Home

  Rosa moved the wet cloth off her face to look at the clock. If the dust storm had not come, she would be at Mrs. Madden’s house right now. She would be finished with her first lesson, and she would be playing with little Henry while his mother cooked supper.

  Rosa wondered what her first lesson would be. Perhaps Mrs. Madden had some books for her to read or an atlas to look at. Rosa also wondered what Mrs. Madden’s home would be like. Would she have pretty curtains and tablecloths? Would her plates and cups have flowers on them? Did she sew the quilts for the beds herself?

  But Rosa was stuck at the school. It was no use asking Señora Gonzalez if she could leave. The storm was not so bad, but it was still too dangerous to go outside.

  Rosa could not help worrying about Mamá and Tía and baby Isabella. Were they inside the house with wet rags over their faces? Had Mamá used the extra sheets to cover the furniture? This storm would make Tía cough all night. Isabella would cry because she did not want to stay in her basket under the blanket. She wanted someone to hold her. Papá and the boys might be out in the pastures, crouching to the ground and trying to keep the wind out of their faces.