Polly Sits Tight

By Ethel M. Caution

Polly held her breath and sat firm. For the third time the teacher had asked the question and the last time he had looked directly at her. She knew the answer too! It was an accepted fact in Room 11, that anytime there came a question no one else could answer, a little black girl with stubborn hair and a voice like a lively melody would be sure to know. Polly was the star scholar in the class and although she seemed unaware of her brilliancy, her teacher and her classmates were not.

So now that the question had been asked for the third time and Polly's hand had not been raised, all the boys and girls turned to look at her in genuine surprise.

And Polly's heart was beating rapidly within her because she did know the answer. She had worked until late and had gone to bed determined to rise early in the morning and tackle the problem again. But about two o'clock she found herself sitting bolt upright in bed saying to the darkness, “Of course that is the way it goes," and she lay back into untroubled sleep.

Now it happened that Polly's mother was painfully poor and also that shoes had an annoying habit of wearing out beyond repair. Today Polly had worn her mother's shoes and would probably have to wear them several days, perhaps weeks, until someone gave her a pair or until she could save up enough to buy her own. That meant a long wait for there was food, rent, fuel, and insurance, and her mother's health was breaking so that Polly herself worked afternoons to help out.

Polly thought of her report card and the row of A’s and had come to be proud of her record and of the pride her class had in her. She knew the solution but it meant going to the board to demonstrate. That would expose her shoes

The teacher was still looking at her expectantly. She dropped her eyes to her desk and her glance fell on her paper covered books much marked after the manner of school girls and boys. These words met her gaze: "Sit tight, little girl, sit tight." That was her motto. Her dad had given it to her unconsciously and it had always come to her rescue.

When she was a very little girl, she had been playing with some children in the barn. Tiring of the usual games, one boy had suggested riding horseback. As fate would have it the most uneasy horse appealed to them and Polly was victim. From frequent pulling against his strap it had weakened, and, frightened by the children boosting Polly to his back, the horse gave two or three vicious tugs and the strap broke.

Before anyone realized what was happening he backed out of the stall and out of the barn and started away on a fast gallop. Polly's father was working in a field near by and sensing what had happened, cupped his hands and called through them:

"Sit tight, little girl, sit tight!"

And Polly sat tight until her father on a swift horse overtook her and brought her back to safety. Polly remembered little else of her father. He died soon after. But that command from her father in a time of danger had always stayed with her. It didn't take the tiniest fraction of a second for all these things to flash through her mind. False pride was galloping away with her. What was a pair of over-large shoes against the faith the twenty odd persons in that room had in her? And what of her mother's faith in her and her own? Would they laugh at her feet? Then let them! Like an electric flash her hand went up. The tension in the room was broken.

"All right, Polly. I knew you could. Come to the board, please."

And not one person saw her shoes! They just saw a black girl with a beaming face, mouth tightly shut, head held high, go to the board and quietly, but quickly and thoroughly demonstrate the solution of the problem that had confused them all.

But Polly saw her father yelling through his hands: "Sit tight, little girl, sit tight."

End of Reading 1

Malala Yousafzai: A Normal Yet Powerful Girl

By NPR Staff

A year after being shot, Malala Yousafzai is clear about her goal. “I speak for education of every child, in every corner of the world,” Malala says. “There has been a discrimination in our society,” which she believes must be defeated. “We women are going to bring change. We are speaking up for girls’ rights, but we must not behave like men, like they have done in the past.”

Perhaps she has learned from her father’s experience. When asked what gave him a passion for girls’ education, Yousafzai points out that he was “born in a society where girls are ignored.” Living with five sisters, he was sensitive to discrimination from an early age. “In the morning, I was used to milk and cream, and my sisters were given only tea,” he says.

Malala’s father felt the injustice, or the unfairness, even more when Malala was born. He later opened a school that Malala attended in the Swat Valley. At the time, the Taliban’s influence was gaining power and they were highly aware of both Yousafzais. The Taliban is an Islamic militant group based in Afghanistan and western Pakistan, known around the world for their cruel punishment of citizens, their harsh treatment of women, and for their involvement in acts of terrorism “But we thought that even terrorists might have some ethics,” Yousafzai says. “Because they destroyed some 1,500 schools but they never injured a child. And she was a child.”

Malala says that the shooting has taken away her fear. “I have already seen death and I know that death is supporting me in my cause of education. Death does not want to kill me,” she says. “Before this attack, I might have been a little bit afraid how death would be. Now I’m not, because I have experienced it.”

When asked if she is having any fun now with all her campaigning, Malala laughs, “It’s a very nice question. I miss those days.” But she also says that there is another side to her than what is shown in the media. “Outside of my home, I look like a very obedient, very serious, very good kind of girl, but nobody knows what happens inside the house.”

There, she says, she’s not naughty, but she has to stand up to her brothers. “It’s good to fight with your brothers and it’s good to tease them, and to give them advice.”

She says her little brother doesn’t really understand why his sister has so much attention. “He said, ‘Malala ... I can’t understand why people are giving you prizes, and everywhere you go people say, ‘This is Malala’ and they give you awards, what have you done?’” she says.

Malala knows the Taliban would still like to kill her, but she says she hopes to return to Pakistan one day. “First, I need to empower myself with knowledge, with education. I need to work hard,” she says. “And when I [am] powerful, then I will go back to Pakistan, inshallah [God willing].”

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