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Authors: Sally Warner
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why
you
chose me,’ I add, my voicegetting stronger. “I mean, why you chose me and Kevin to take the envelope to Principal James’s office. You could have chosen anyone! A girl would have begged to take it. She would have been
honored.
”
Emma. Annie Pat. Fiona. Kry. Cynthia.
Ms. Sanchez looks up, as if the answer might be written on the ceiling. “I can’t honestly remember why I chose you that day,” she finally says.
And I believe her. I really do.
15
BEING SINGLED OUT
I take a deep breath before speaking again. “But you do know why the principal wanted Kevin or me to be the emcee, don’t you?” I say, daring to look her in the eye.
“I’m not sure—” she begins, protesting.
“It’s because we have brown skin, right?” I say, interrupting Ms. Sanchez for the first time in my life. “I mean, I think the
principal’s
the one who came up with the idea of maybe calling the assembly Diversity Day,” I add, my heart pounding. “You know, at the P.T.A. meeting. My dad told me. And me and Kevin are just about the only diversity the principal’s got. In the third grade, anyway.”
“It just happened to work out that way this year,” Ms. Sanchez says, shaking her head. “But maybe skin color
was
on his mind when he chose you,” she tells me. “I don’t know, EllRay. I honestly don’tthink it was, but I can’t speak for Principal James. You could always ask him. But would it be such a bad thing if it was true? Principal James wants more diversity at Oak Glen. And he knows you’ll do a fine job. So why
not
you?”
“You don’t know what it’s like,” I say, looking away.
“I don’t know what it’s like?” she asks. “EllRay, please, I, Yvette Carolina Angela Sanchez Verdugo, don’t know what it’s like being singled out because of the color of my skin?”
OOPS . Big-time. “Verdugo?” I ask, just for something to say.
“Verdugo was my mother’s maiden name,” she explains. “And that’s the traditional way to say it. But I go by Sanchez, to make things easier for people.”
“Oh. But you’re barely even brown,” I say, trying too late to defend myself.
“And you’re not as brown as Kevin,” Ms. Sanchez says. “And Kevin’s not as brown as Mrs. Jenkins in the office. It’s not a contest, EllRay.”
“Did kids used to pick on you when you were little?” I ask, afraid of what her answer might be.Because we all really like Ms. Sanchez. Who would ever have wanted to be mean to her?
They wouldn’t dare!
Ms. Sanchez frowns, scaring me for a second. “Are kids picking on
you
, EllRay? Because of your skin color, I mean?”
“No,” I say. “If they yell at me, it’s for other reasons. Like, maybe I get on someone’s nerves. Or I hog the kickball. Or I step on their foot.”
Or I hurt their feelings in front of other kids.
“Well, they’d better not
not
pick on you,” she says, looking kind of fierce for the prettiest teacher at Oak Glen Primary School.
“But they picked on
you
?” I ask again.
And she nods. “I was born in the nineteen eighties, EllRay, and things had changed for the better by then, at least a little. But there were still plenty of bad times,” she tells me. “I think things are better now, though. Not perfect, but better.”
“That’s good, I guess,” I mumble.
“So, yes, children did pick on me,” Ms. Sanchez says, a faraway look in her eyes. “
Un poquito
. A little. My older brothers came in for more of it, I’msure. But there were a couple of bad names kids still used, even then,” she tells me. “And once, an adult told me to go back where I came from.”
“Why? Where did you come from?” I ask, curious.
San Diego? Pasadena?
Cucamonga
?
Ms. Sanchez laughs. “Well, Los Angeles, as it happens. In fact, my mother’s side of the family were landowners here in California long before it was even a state,” she says. “Only she brought us up never to boast. Not that the man trying to insult me would have known
you
chose me,’ I add, my voicegetting stronger. “I mean, why you chose me and Kevin to take the envelope to Principal James’s office. You could have chosen anyone! A girl would have begged to take it. She would have been
honored.
”
Emma. Annie Pat. Fiona. Kry. Cynthia.
Ms. Sanchez looks up, as if the answer might be written on the ceiling. “I can’t honestly remember why I chose you that day,” she finally says.
And I believe her. I really do.
15
BEING SINGLED OUT
I take a deep breath before speaking again. “But you do know why the principal wanted Kevin or me to be the emcee, don’t you?” I say, daring to look her in the eye.
“I’m not sure—” she begins, protesting.
“It’s because we have brown skin, right?” I say, interrupting Ms. Sanchez for the first time in my life. “I mean, I think the
principal’s
the one who came up with the idea of maybe calling the assembly Diversity Day,” I add, my heart pounding. “You know, at the P.T.A. meeting. My dad told me. And me and Kevin are just about the only diversity the principal’s got. In the third grade, anyway.”
“It just happened to work out that way this year,” Ms. Sanchez says, shaking her head. “But maybe skin color
was
on his mind when he chose you,” she tells me. “I don’t know, EllRay. I honestly don’tthink it was, but I can’t speak for Principal James. You could always ask him. But would it be such a bad thing if it was true? Principal James wants more diversity at Oak Glen. And he knows you’ll do a fine job. So why
not
you?”
“You don’t know what it’s like,” I say, looking away.
“I don’t know what it’s like?” she asks. “EllRay, please, I, Yvette Carolina Angela Sanchez Verdugo, don’t know what it’s like being singled out because of the color of my skin?”
OOPS . Big-time. “Verdugo?” I ask, just for something to say.
“Verdugo was my mother’s maiden name,” she explains. “And that’s the traditional way to say it. But I go by Sanchez, to make things easier for people.”
“Oh. But you’re barely even brown,” I say, trying too late to defend myself.
“And you’re not as brown as Kevin,” Ms. Sanchez says. “And Kevin’s not as brown as Mrs. Jenkins in the office. It’s not a contest, EllRay.”
“Did kids used to pick on you when you were little?” I ask, afraid of what her answer might be.Because we all really like Ms. Sanchez. Who would ever have wanted to be mean to her?
They wouldn’t dare!
Ms. Sanchez frowns, scaring me for a second. “Are kids picking on
you
, EllRay? Because of your skin color, I mean?”
“No,” I say. “If they yell at me, it’s for other reasons. Like, maybe I get on someone’s nerves. Or I hog the kickball. Or I step on their foot.”
Or I hurt their feelings in front of other kids.
“Well, they’d better not
not
pick on you,” she says, looking kind of fierce for the prettiest teacher at Oak Glen Primary School.
“But they picked on
you
?” I ask again.
And she nods. “I was born in the nineteen eighties, EllRay, and things had changed for the better by then, at least a little. But there were still plenty of bad times,” she tells me. “I think things are better now, though. Not perfect, but better.”
“That’s good, I guess,” I mumble.
“So, yes, children did pick on me,” Ms. Sanchez says, a faraway look in her eyes. “
Un poquito
. A little. My older brothers came in for more of it, I’msure. But there were a couple of bad names kids still used, even then,” she tells me. “And once, an adult told me to go back where I came from.”
“Why? Where did you come from?” I ask, curious.
San Diego? Pasadena?
Cucamonga
?
Ms. Sanchez laughs. “Well, Los Angeles, as it happens. In fact, my mother’s side of the family were landowners here in California long before it was even a state,” she says. “Only she brought us up never to boast. Not that the man trying to insult me would have known
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