So many times in my life already I had sat in an auditorium, waiting for my turn on the stage. But this time was different. This time I wasn’t going onstage to perform or entertain through dance. I’d be using only my voice, my words. The last time I’d done that, I’d recited a poem with almost all of my Liberty family onstage behind me. But today? It was just me. Just my voice, and my words. Would they be strong enough alone?
They had to be.
Ms. Tottenham walked onto the stage, clutching her cordless mic. Applause broke out immediately, with more than a few of the seventh and eighth graders calling out, “That’s my favorite teacher!” and, “Ms. T is the best!”
Ms. Tottenham smiled, waiting patiently for the excitement to die down. When at last the auditorium was silent, she said, “Good morning, Kelly scholars, esteemed educators, and parents, guardians, and family. Welcome to the eighth annual Kelly Ambassadors Election Assembly.”
At once another great swell of applause erupted, accompanied by whistles and yells. It took Ms. Tottenham a few minutes more to make it through her short speech. She ended it with a laugh and said, “Kelly enthusiasm is second to none. And now, without further delay, I’d like to introduce our first candidate, sixth grader Darrin Gibbs.”
There was another round of applause and a brief chant of “Darrin, Darrin, Darrin” from the football players scattered throughout the audience until Ms. Tottenham stood and pressed her fingers to her lips.
Darrin cleared his throat and began his speech, his fist slashing through the air as he read. Even though he was talking about double-portion-sized lunches, he said his words with so much conviction, by the time he finished, I found myself wondering if I’d been cheated all these years by only being served one sandwich instead of two.
The twins followed Darrin, and delivered their speech about Kelly’s social life—or lack thereof—without so much as a falter or slip of the tongue. Not even a single giggle or squeal. Everyone was so good, even better than they’d been at the final practice run. They sounded so confident, so professional.
After the applause for the twins died down, Dominique took the stage. I knew each second she spoke into the microphone was one second closer to my turn to do the same.
My heart began to race again. I took a deep breath and then another. Aaliyah leaned over and whispered, “You’ll be fine, Gabby.” Then she squeezed my arm, kind of like how Teagan squeezed my hand whenever she knew I needed an extra boost of confidence. Grateful, I whispered, “Thank you,” then turned my attention back to the stage.
“So vote for me for Sixth-Grade Ambassador if you want to expand our intramural programs to include all the sports we love,” Dominique concluded. Then she raised both fists in the air. The audience cheered, none more loudly than Dominique’s double Dutch team.
“Thank you, Dominique,” Ms. Tottenham said, taking center stage again. “And now for our penultimate sixth-grade speaker, Gabriela McBride.”
Propelled by applause and a “Let’s go, cuz!” from Red, I made my way up the stairs, my speech shaking in my hand.
“Make sure to stand close enough to the mic,” Ms. Tottenham whispered gently. “And best of luck.” And then she was gone, on her way back to her seat, leaving me in the middle of the stage with nothing but a crumpled piece of loose-leaf paper and more than one thousand eyes on me.
G-Good m-morning. My-My n-name is Gabriela McBride, a-and and th-though I may be running for Sixth-Grade Ambass-Ambassador, I’m here to be the v-voice of each and every sssssingle one of you, re-re-regardless of your grade. I’m running because I want to make K-Kelly Middle School the kind of place where all st-students feel www-welcome. Sixth graders, how many of you got hit with water balloons on the first day of school?”
Just like I’d imagined, pretty much all the sixth-grade hands went up.
“Ssssixth, seventh, and eighth-eighth graders—how many people felt unwelcome when those n-n-nicknames were put on the lockers, either this year or the year you first started at K-Kelly?”
Once again, most of the sixth-grade hands went up, but this time some seventh- and eighth-grade hands joined in. My eyes found Isaiah, who sat on the edge of his seat, looking back at me with an encouraging smile on his face.
So far, so good.
“You know from my flyers I want to get rid of Sixth-Grade Initiation—”
“Yeah, what’s that about?” a boy shouted from somewhere in the eighth-grade section. “Traditions are traditions. You can’t just—” A teacher shushed him before he could say anything else.
I took a deep breath.
“Well, I’d like to get rid of Sixth-Grade Initiation and rrrr-replace it with something even better. I imagine an all-day event where seventh and eighth graders host challenges for sixth graders—including a water balloon challenge—”
That got some whoops from the audience. I had their attention now.
“But I don’t want to st-stop there. Mmmm-Making Kelly welcoming and fun for everyone ssshhh-shouldn’t be a once-a-year thing. There should be more events throughout the year that sixth, sssseventh, and eighth graders can do t-t-together. Because everyone brings something different to this school, and the mmm-more we get to know each other, the mmm-more those differences be-become not ssssomething to call out or make fun of, but something to celebrate.”
I found Aaliyah in the crowd, looked right at her, and continued.
“And speaking of differences, you may have noticed I-I’m not-not really all that g-good with sp-speeches. S-So I thought I’d try something d-different instead.”
Last night, after I’d practiced my speech for the millionth time, I’d read Aaliyah’s letter again, and her words about how I had a talent for speaking from my heart through poetry gave me an idea. I had pulled out the mint-green flyer. Nope. It didn’t say anywhere I couldn’t do a poem for my speech.
A shout came from the audience. “Good on you, my lady!”
Isaiah. He must have figured out by now what I was up to. This is for you, Fakespeare, I thought.
The audience laughed, and the glacier inside me melted. I took in the sea of faces before me, including Red, Isaiah, Bria, Alejandro. Aaliyah and Ms. Tottenham. I thought of the way Kelly looked to me on that first day—exciting, but big and scary, too. The way it felt when I thought I wasn’t welcome, and the way it must have felt for kids who still believed they weren’t. I thought about all of that and began to speak, quiet and hesitant at first, louder and with more conviction as I went on.
“There s-sits a place on K-Kelly Dr-Drive
An or-or-ordinary b-building
Colossal in its size
The wwwalls themselves hold nothing
Neither promise nor demise
Until twelve hundred st-students
Excited
Scared
Make their way inside
The old and new together
Best friends and frenemies
That one quirky
That one bold
That one with star-shaped cheese.”
I chanced another look out at Isaiah when a few people laughed. He was beaming. With another deep breath, I continued.
“It’s then we make a choice
About how we live this year
Do we stand together?
Or do we tease
Taunt
Jeer?
Imagine if we changed all that
Flung doors all open wide
Beckoned to each and every kid:
‘Come in.
You’re welcome inside.’
Oh, Kelly, let’s begin
To fix the ties that broke
Let’s start anew and clear the air
Of bullies
Boos
And jokes
Let’s instead reach out our hands
Build bridges in between
Let’s listen to all voices
Let everyone be seen
Quirky
Bold
Ex
cited
Scared
Frenemies into friends
That’s my dream, all laid out
It’s how I hope this ends
If you agree
Stand with me—
Check the box next to Gabby McBride
And together
Tomorrow
We’ll do this thing—
We’ll welcome everyone inside.”
The sparks were flying off my words, I could tell, but as soon as I finished …
Silence.
Heat rose in my face. Maybe it was a mistake to do the poem. Now I just looked foolish. Now I—
The applause was sudden. And thunderous. Isaiah was on his feet. Then Red, Alejandro, and Bria. Aaliyah, too. A few more people stood, and then a few more until there were just as many people standing as sitting.
Ms. Tottenham came to stand beside me. “I knew you could do it,” she said to me, shouting over the sounds of clapping and cheering.
With a smile so big I thought it would break my face, I found my way back down the stairs and to my seat.
“Great job,” Aaliyah whispered as the audience quieted down. “That was amazing.”
“And now for our final sixth-grade speaker, Aaliyah Reade-Johnson.”
I gave Aaliyah’s arm a quick squeeze as she got up and walked toward the stage, empty-handed. She stood before the mic and looked right out at the audience. Then she began her speech from memory, just as she had in Ms. Tottenham’s classroom. Her voice rang out, flawless and smooth, each word a call to action. All around the auditorium, people were nodding in agreement with what Aaliyah had to say, and by the time she finished, almost the whole auditorium was on their feet.
She returned to her seat, breathless and smiling.
“That was awesome,” I whispered to her as Ms. Tottenham took to the stage to introduce the seventh-grade speakers.
Aaliyah beamed at me.
I didn’t know if either of us would win in the end, but we were friends now. And that made both of us victorious.
The rest of the day flew by in a blur. That afternoon Ms. Tottenham handed out paper ballots to everyone in social studies. We checked off our choices for the three grades’ ambassadors and then handed the ballots back.
“Results will be tallied sometime tomorrow afternoon, at which point I will personally notify each winner,” Ms. Tottenham called as we packed up for the end of the day.
Mama, Daddy, Red, and I met up for ice cream that night with Teagan and Mr. Harmon to celebrate my speech.
“Heard you knocked their socks off,” Mr. Harmon said, grinning wide beneath his bushy gray mustache.
“You know it, Mr. Harmon,” Red replied, piling his spoon high with a mess of chocolate ice cream covered with chocolate syrup and sprinkles.
“I wish I could’ve been there,” Teagan said, disappointment in her voice.
“Us, too,” Mama said. Neither she nor Daddy could make it to the assembly today. “But not to worry.” She pulled out her phone. “A certain speech therapist who was extremely proud of her student may have sent me some video.”
“Mama, come on,” I said, my face growing hot. But Mama had already hit PLAY and held it up so everyone could see. I covered my face as my voice erupted from the phone.
“Awesome sauce!” Teagan declared. “I told you it would be a piece of cake.” She pretended to brush her shoulders off.
“Hey, that’s my move!” Red cried. Chocolate ice cream exploded from his mouth and dribbled down the front of his shirt.
Teagan and I laughed until I thought my face and heart would burst.
The next morning, I sat in my first-period language arts class, trying as hard as I could to focus on the questions my teacher was asking about The Giver. But all I could think about was the result of the election. Three more periods until lunch, and then it was officially afternoon, right?
By math class, I still hadn’t heard from Ms. Tottenham. I wondered if that meant I hadn’t won.
But maybe Aaliyah had. My spirits lifted a little at the thought. When the bell rang, I ran to social studies to find out.
“Have you heard yet?”
Aaliyah shook her head.
“Do you know if anyone else has—?”
She shook her head again, so hard I thought her bun might come loose. And then I remembered who I was talking to. I chuckled to myself.
I plopped down in my chair and tried to concentrate as Ms. Tottenham continued our unit on Leaders in Women’s History. Once, when she was talking about how suffragist Carrie Chapman Catt had been elected president of the National American Woman Suffrage Association, I thought she winked at me, but it could have just as easily been Aaliyah.
Remember, I reminded myself. If your platform got through to just one person, you’re already a winner.
It turned out that that one person—who I hoped was actually just one of many—sat to the left of me. We were partnering up and I tapped Aaliyah on the shoulder just as Zuri asked if she wanted to be her partner. After an awkward moment, I said I’d work with Josiah, who must have thought I was crazy, I was smiling so big.
My nerves calmed a bit as we worked. That is, until Ms. Tottenham called me and Aaliyah up to her desk. We shared a look.
The Tiny Tots were tapping in my belly again. This was it.
“Well, Gabriela, Aaliyah,” Ms. Tottenham said once she’d sat down behind her desk. She looked back and forth between us. “Something unusual happened. Something that’s only ever happened once before.”
I did a sideways glance toward Aaliyah. She shrugged.
Ms. Tottenham continued. “We tallied the votes for Sixth-Grade Ambassador and … you two were tied for first place. You should both be proud!”
The Tiny Tots lost it in my belly, like when Mama let them “free dance” and they banged the floor as hard and as fast as they could. I’d actually gotten as many votes as Aaliyah Reade-Johnson. How was that for unexpected?
“Normally, in this situation, it’s Kelly Ambassador policy to have the two of you write and deliver new speeches and have the student body vote again. That would happen next week.” She paused. “Are you both prepared to do that?”
I blinked. A whole other speech. For a brief moment, I considered conceding to Aaliyah—I’d already seen my platform at work, after all. But I’d come so far. I imagined the change I could make as ambassador—ideas for more mixed-grade events were already swirling around in my brain. I didn’t want to give that up.
But I didn’t want Aaliyah to have to give that up, either.
I looked over at Aaliyah. Her face was hard to read, but that was nothing new. It was different somehow, though. Shy, I realized. She turned to me.
“Gabby,” she said, her eyes glancing from the floor up to me and then back down again. “I liked what you had to say about building a community, and I’d like to see that happen, too, so … I was thinking, if it’s okay with Ms. Tottenham, that maybe we could just, um, share the role and be Sixth-Grade Ambassadors together?”
I didn’t so much as pause or hesitate. “I think I’d like that very much.”
“Excellent!” Ms. Tottenham said. “That’s an even better idea than a runoff election. I think you two will be perfect together, two natural leaders.”
A warm rush of pride engulfed me at the sound of being called a natural leader like Aaliyah.
The next day, Isaiah was just opening his lunchbox when Aaliyah approached our table.
“Can I sit with you?”
For the second time in two days, I didn’t hesitate.
“Of course.”
After she took out a composition notebook, she followed my gaze to the front, where she’d written both of our names with the words Sixth-Grade Ambassadors beneath them.
“Who would’ve thought you two would be sitting here like this together now,” Isaiah said, looking from Aaliyah to me and back again. “Guess my parents were right after all: This year should be about branching out.”
“Yeah, like making changes,” Isaiah replied, plucking a tater tot from his tray and shoving it in his mouth. Immediately, he made a face like he’d just tasted battery acid. “Though there are some things I’d like to change back, like bringing lunch from home again.”
Aaliyah and I laughed, as I began to think about all the changes that had happened that school year so far. I’d started sixth grade without my best friend, and was now giggling at lunch with my mortal enemy. And now the two of us were going to work together to change Kelly for the better, for everyone.
“Anything you’d like to change back if you could?” Isaiah asked, poking at a slightly singed chicken nugget with his fork.
I glanced across the table at Aaliyah, who had already turned to a blank page in the notebook and written Community Building Action Plan.
“No,” I said, grinning. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”
Teresa E. Harris earned her bachelor’s degree in English from Columbia University and an MFA in Writing for Children from Vermont College, where she won numerous awards, including the Flying Pig Grade-A, Number-One Ham Humor Award. She is a high school English teacher in New Jersey, where she lives with three very bossy cats. She spends most of her time grading papers and writing novels, and though she was never an ambassador like Gabby when she was in sixth grade, Teresa was the president of her high school’s National Honor Society.
With gratitude to Leana Barbosa, M.S. CCC-SLP, for contributing her knowledge of speech therapies and language pathology; to Fatima Goss Graves, Senior Vice President for Program, National Women’s Law Center, for her insights into the experiences and perspectives of modern African American children; and Sofia Snow, program director at Urban Word NYC, for guiding Gabriela’s poetic journey.
Gabriela Speaks Out Page 10