by Kay Moser
Just think of it! Six whole weeks surrounded by other teachers and the Rocky Mountains. But then what? Sarah had no teaching job to return to in the fall. Even though Riverford High School currently needed a classics teacher, the school board had not offered her the position. I won’t just come home and get married. I will teach! Somewhere …
Sarah glanced at Lee Logan. Her keen awareness of his fine qualities included his willingness to wait for her to finish her education. In spite of his obvious desire to marry, he had actively supported her dreams. She worried, however, that his patience was coming to an end. Why, oh why, does society insist that a married woman cannot—no, may not—teach? Surely until she has children—
Applause interrupted Sarah’s thoughts, and she realized that the speaker had introduced the graduates and that they were rising from their seats. She leapt to her feet.
President Wiseman and the dean of education took their positions and readied themselves to hand out the diplomas. As each graduate stepped forward and received the coveted parchment scroll, polite applause followed. From one corner of the hall or another, a more vigorous applause broke out for the occasional graduate.
Sarah waited her turn, her nerves growing skittery. When President Wiseman called out “Sarah Novak,” she stepped forward, received her diploma, and watched with amazement as Maude sprang to her feet, applauding vigorously. The rest of the front row quickly followed suit, and Sarah felt her heart would burst with gratitude. Three years ago she had been a poor farm girl destined for a life of repetitive drudgery as wife to an immigrant sharecropper, but because of the generosity of these people, she was now a teacher. I will make them proud, dear God. I promise You I will. I will never forget how the love of strangers elevated my life, and I will extend the same support to the others You put in my path.
Sarah focused on her mother, who beamed up at her. I will never forget where I came from, Mother. She placed her fingers to her lips and extended them to the woman who had possessed the courage to cross an ocean in search of a better life for her future children. And I will never forget Rose! Sarah fought back a wave of tears as she remembered the birth and death of her infant sister, the tiny girl who had been given no chance to aspire to great heights or to fulfilling love.
Sarah returned to her seat and slipped her hand down her hip until, in her skirt pocket, she felt the precious handkerchief containing a bit of soil from Rose’s grave. Lee had created the memento and placed it in her hand as they had stood at her sister’s grave two years ago. In the face of her crippling grief and guilt, he had persuaded her to return to town to take the college entrance exam. Lee had translated her grief into a determination to help other poor and outcast children. She met his eyes. He is reading my mind. He remembers.
Sarah hardly heard the names of the other graduates, but when President Wiseman announced that he would confer the prizes for science, mathematics, literature, and the classics, she forced her attention back to the program. Sarah knew better than to hope. Women were not granted prizes; even though they had earned degrees, it was assumed that they would marry soon and leave behind their intellectual pursuits. The faculty was certain that the prestige of a prize would be lost on a woman.
As each male winner’s name was called out, he stepped forward, and with great ceremony the president looped the ribbon of the appropriate medal over the recipient’s head as the audience applauded. Finally, only the classics prize remained, but President Wiseman stopped, returned to the podium, and shuffled several papers in front of him. A hum of whispers swept across the auditorium.
President Wiseman cleared his throat, waited for quiet, then announced, “The 1898 prize for classics goes to Horace Bellows.” The audience broke into applause, but he held up his hand to quiet them. “And to Sarah Novak,” he added. The audience gasped. “Yes.” The president’s voice strengthened. “My conscience will not allow me to skip over the strongest classics scholar because she is a young woman. There will be two classics medals awarded this year.” He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a medal with ribbon attached, turned, and placed it on the table.
When the audience remained silent, President Wiseman stepped closer to the edge of the stage and addressed them. “I have given this matter long, serious thought and have come to the conclusion that this action must be taken for the good of our country as well as the integrity of Travis College. A nation which willfully continues to disregard half of its intellectual prowess on the basis of gender is not a wise nation. It is folly to continue in our bias against women. The United States of America is two years away from a new century—a century which will propel it onto the international stage. If one has any doubt of this prediction, let him remember that at this very moment the United States is at war with Spain. Commodore Dewey and his Asiatic Squadron have defeated the Spanish fleet at Manila Bay in the Philippines. There can be no doubt that the United States will soon land troops in Cuba.”
He paused, wisely giving the audience time to assimilate his words before he continued. “We Americans have chosen our destiny, and having done so, we must be prepared to lead in the world. To do so, we must abandon our prejudiced attitude that women are intellectual inferiors and open our institutions to them. The United States of America will need every brain, every talent that Almighty God has given His children if it is to lead the world. The torch of learning, of leadership, must be lit for all our young people! It is my intention today to make Travis College one of the first academic institutions to light that torch. Join me in congratulating Mr. Horace Bellows and Miss Sarah Novak, winners of the classics award.”
For a moment the audience sat stunned and silent. Then Victoria Hodges sprang from her seat, held her hands in the air, and applauded vigorously. Seconds later, the entire first row joined her. Eventually, small groups in various parts of the auditorium rose to their feet and applauded, but many remained seated and silent. Sarah canvased the audience, and she was not surprised to find that a large circle around Mrs. Bellows wore angry expressions as they refused to budge from their seats.
President Wiseman raised his hands to quiet the audience, then turned and beckoned Horace and Sarah forward. Sarah hurried to the president’s side. Horace, his face scarlet with anger, sat a moment longer, making Sarah the first recipient of the classics award. As she felt the ribbon settle on the back of her neck and the weight of the medal on her chest, the responsibility she had undertaken to lift young people to a higher plane became tangible. Her mission was no longer a dream; it was a reality which required even more commitment and hard work than ever. The president’s words had catapulted her sense of responsibility far beyond Riverford, Texas. She now realized that her efforts had national, and perhaps even international, significance. Just as her mother had taken risks and shouldered burdens to elevate Sarah’s status, Sarah must now create a path of upward movement for other young people. She had gained the credentials to make her shoulders a stair step for youth. Overwhelmed with gratitude, Sarah felt anxious to perform the mission God had given her.
The president extended his hand to her, and Sarah eagerly shook it as some of the audience continued to applaud. When she turned back to her seat, her legs shook beneath her.
Horace Bellows, his face smeared with contempt, nonchalantly stepped forward to receive his medal. President Wiseman tried to shake hands with him, but the young man turned on his heel and stalked back to his chair.
Undaunted, President Wiseman addressed the audience. “Before the recessional music begins and our graduates march out into the world, I want to thank each of you for coming today. Please join us in the Founders’ Quadrangle for a reception honoring our graduates. As always, I thank you for your continued support of Travis College. It is my hope that we may continue to serve Riverford and the great state of Texas throughout the upcoming century.”
Polite applause rippled across the auditorium. The new pastor of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, the Reverend John Neville, stood and presented a bene
diction, and the string quintet struck up the recessional march.
When Sarah reached the top of the steps that led down to the main aisle of the auditorium, she paused in the flood of amber light and gazed out across the audience. Her spirits soared. She was returning to the same Riverford society she had left that morning, but she was returning as a victor. The dynamics of the town had not changed; there were those who supported her upward movement and those who disdained the very thought of her social and intellectual ascent. Nevertheless, she had changed, and she knew from watching Victoria Hodges for the last three years that a person’s thoughts were the main molders of her reality. Thanks to the loving assistance of others, Sarah finally thought well of herself. She was God’s beloved child; she had been given extraordinary opportunities; she had done the hard work required to succeed. She had seized her God-given chance, and now she was prepared to enable others to do the same.
Sarah’s eyes flitted across the joyful faces on the first row and settled on her mother’s tear-stained cheeks. I would have done it just for you, Mother. I would have. Even if I had not wanted it. Sarah’s lips quivered as she smiled down at her mother. As she did so, Lee Logan handed his white handkerchief to Mrs. Novak, and Sarah silently thanked God for him.
Head held high and keenly aware of the weight of the medal she wore, she descended the steps and recessed up the aisle, through the dusky foyer, and out into the sunshine. Her new life had begun.
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