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Authors: Andrea White
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.”
“ I scrambled in, and rowed back for my companion who… had not apparently realized the dull yellow glare of mortal peril that had so suddenly played around us .”
As a teenager, Winnie had already felt the dull yellow glare of mortal peril. Sam’s twelve, and he’s never felt it. Slipping in the tub doesn’t count. That’s one of the things that he hates most about life in a wheelchair. Winnie took risks. Sam will never face strong currents, land mines or enemy soldiers. Not even a rival basketball team.
I understand, Sam , Winnie interrupts. You just want the right to be brave .
***
On the bus home, Miss Perkins is hunting through her purse for a Kleenex when she spies a crumpled piece of paper. Her hands close on it, and she pulls it out. Imagine that. Her purse is so messy that she hasn’t seen this precious piece of paper for many months. It’s one of the first essays that Sam wrote. She was afraid that she had lost it. Unlike his later ones, it is unsigned and untitled, but she has named it. She calls it the Sam, I Am essay.
She opens it and begins reading the hurried letters that she copied down that day as Sam pointed to them.
MISS PERKINS SAYS THAT I AM A BOY OF MANY GIFTS AND THAT IT IS A GOOD THING THAT I HAVE CP OR OTHERWISE I’D BE VAIN AND PROUD.
SHE SAYS THAT I WAS MEANT TO HAVE CP. WHICH IS GOOD BECAUSE SAM IS ALL I AM.
Miss Perkins kisses the paper, coffee-stained and dirty at the edges. She hunts up her old brown wallet, unzips the slot for change and carefully folds it inside.
___
† Reprinted with permission of Scribner, an imprint of Simon & Schuster Adult Publishing Group, from MY EARLY LIFE: A ROVING COMMISSION by Winston Churchill. Copyright © 1930 by Charles Scribner’s Sons; copyright renewed© 1958 by Winston Churchill. All rights reserved.
___
† Reprinted with permission of Scribner, an imprint of Simon & Schuster Adult Publishing Group, from MY EARLY LIFE: A ROVING COMMISSION by Winston Churchill. Copyright © 1930 by Charles Scribner’s Sons; copyright renewed© 1958 by Winston Churchill. All rights reserved.
___
† Reprinted with permission of Scribner, an imprint of Simon & Schuster Adult Publishing Group, from MY EARLY LIFE: A ROVING COMMISSION by Winston Churchill. Copyright © 1930 by Charles Scribner’s Sons; copyright renewed© 1958 by Winston Churchill. All rights reserved.
Chapter Twelve
This second week, school has slipped into a routine. Sam and Miss Perkins arrive on time each day. With Miss Perkins in a chair at his side, Sam sits in his spot next to the Science table.
Before turning her attention to the other kids, Mrs. Martin greets Sam pleasantly. Although Miss Perkins has tried to tell Mrs. Martin about Sam’s skills, they’ve always been interrupted. Mrs. Martin has promised that she will find a time to meet with them one afternoon after school.
The bell rings. Sam notices that as usual, Mickey is not in his seat. During class, Sam has been trying not to stare at Mickey. This is easy in the mornings, since Mickey is always late.
After the pledge, Mrs. Martin writes on the blackboard, ‘National History Essay Contest.’
For a reason that Sam doesn’t understand, he senses more excitement than usual today in the classroom.
Bodies are squirming in chairs. Necks are craning. Students are whispering. Bobby passes Charlie a note.
As if Mrs. Martin has eyes in her back, she whirls around.
Sam guesses that the unlucky kid is going to be Bobby but instead, Mrs. Martin swoops down on Charlie. Mrs. Martin crumples the note and angrily tosses it into the trashcan.
Under his teacher’s hostile stare, Charlie’s freckled face grows redder over his white button-down shirt.
“They’re good kids,” Miss Perkins mutters.
Although both Sam and Miss Perkins have stayed quiet in class, that hasn’t stopped Miss Perkins from giving Mrs. Martin plenty of advice under her breath.
“What are you doing?” Mrs. Martin demands.
“We’re just
“ I scrambled in, and rowed back for my companion who… had not apparently realized the dull yellow glare of mortal peril that had so suddenly played around us .”
As a teenager, Winnie had already felt the dull yellow glare of mortal peril. Sam’s twelve, and he’s never felt it. Slipping in the tub doesn’t count. That’s one of the things that he hates most about life in a wheelchair. Winnie took risks. Sam will never face strong currents, land mines or enemy soldiers. Not even a rival basketball team.
I understand, Sam , Winnie interrupts. You just want the right to be brave .
***
On the bus home, Miss Perkins is hunting through her purse for a Kleenex when she spies a crumpled piece of paper. Her hands close on it, and she pulls it out. Imagine that. Her purse is so messy that she hasn’t seen this precious piece of paper for many months. It’s one of the first essays that Sam wrote. She was afraid that she had lost it. Unlike his later ones, it is unsigned and untitled, but she has named it. She calls it the Sam, I Am essay.
She opens it and begins reading the hurried letters that she copied down that day as Sam pointed to them.
MISS PERKINS SAYS THAT I AM A BOY OF MANY GIFTS AND THAT IT IS A GOOD THING THAT I HAVE CP OR OTHERWISE I’D BE VAIN AND PROUD.
SHE SAYS THAT I WAS MEANT TO HAVE CP. WHICH IS GOOD BECAUSE SAM IS ALL I AM.
Miss Perkins kisses the paper, coffee-stained and dirty at the edges. She hunts up her old brown wallet, unzips the slot for change and carefully folds it inside.
___
† Reprinted with permission of Scribner, an imprint of Simon & Schuster Adult Publishing Group, from MY EARLY LIFE: A ROVING COMMISSION by Winston Churchill. Copyright © 1930 by Charles Scribner’s Sons; copyright renewed© 1958 by Winston Churchill. All rights reserved.
___
† Reprinted with permission of Scribner, an imprint of Simon & Schuster Adult Publishing Group, from MY EARLY LIFE: A ROVING COMMISSION by Winston Churchill. Copyright © 1930 by Charles Scribner’s Sons; copyright renewed© 1958 by Winston Churchill. All rights reserved.
___
† Reprinted with permission of Scribner, an imprint of Simon & Schuster Adult Publishing Group, from MY EARLY LIFE: A ROVING COMMISSION by Winston Churchill. Copyright © 1930 by Charles Scribner’s Sons; copyright renewed© 1958 by Winston Churchill. All rights reserved.
Chapter Twelve
This second week, school has slipped into a routine. Sam and Miss Perkins arrive on time each day. With Miss Perkins in a chair at his side, Sam sits in his spot next to the Science table.
Before turning her attention to the other kids, Mrs. Martin greets Sam pleasantly. Although Miss Perkins has tried to tell Mrs. Martin about Sam’s skills, they’ve always been interrupted. Mrs. Martin has promised that she will find a time to meet with them one afternoon after school.
The bell rings. Sam notices that as usual, Mickey is not in his seat. During class, Sam has been trying not to stare at Mickey. This is easy in the mornings, since Mickey is always late.
After the pledge, Mrs. Martin writes on the blackboard, ‘National History Essay Contest.’
For a reason that Sam doesn’t understand, he senses more excitement than usual today in the classroom.
Bodies are squirming in chairs. Necks are craning. Students are whispering. Bobby passes Charlie a note.
As if Mrs. Martin has eyes in her back, she whirls around.
Sam guesses that the unlucky kid is going to be Bobby but instead, Mrs. Martin swoops down on Charlie. Mrs. Martin crumples the note and angrily tosses it into the trashcan.
Under his teacher’s hostile stare, Charlie’s freckled face grows redder over his white button-down shirt.
“They’re good kids,” Miss Perkins mutters.
Although both Sam and Miss Perkins have stayed quiet in class, that hasn’t stopped Miss Perkins from giving Mrs. Martin plenty of advice under her breath.
“What are you doing?” Mrs. Martin demands.
“We’re just
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