by Lisa A. Weaver

Without warning, Pap ripped the book from my hands and tossed it onto the floor. It slid across the dirt, stopping inches from the fire.

"Now go chop wood and make yourself useful!" Pap hollered.

I hopped up abruptly, fearing he’d kick the McGuffey reader, my most precious treasure, into the flames. He grasped my chin between his rough fingers and glared into my eyes.

"Book learnin’ ain’t gonna get you nowhere!" he said. "It takes hard work to make it in this world. Hear me, Boy?"

I pulled away, raced past him and ran out the door, refusing to answer. Furiously, I swung the ax and attacked the logs until the sweat trickled down my back. Hard work hadn’t helped Pap! The Civil War ended 16 years ago in 1865, but he still acted like a slave.

Ever since I could walk, I’d been toiling beside him in the cotton fields. Three years after the war, I’d been born into a free world. So what? Nothing had changed.

A cool hand touched my shoulder. "He’s just tryin’ to do what’s best for you, Micah."

"I know, Mammy," I answered. "But I can’t be like him. I’ve gotta go to school!"

"Micah, never give up," she said. "Keep your dreams alive, and don’t stop praying. I prayed for freedom and it happened." My mother smiled, her eyes glistening. She had a way of lifting my spirits.

That night I bowed my head and even put in some words for Pap.

A few days later, a knock sounded on the door of our one-room shack. I stared at a man with shiny shoes, pressed pants and a starched white shirt.

"Pleased to meet you," the man said, offering his hand. "I’m Booker T. Washington."

I stood with my mouth open. Mammy brushed past and shook his hand.

"I’ve been expecting you," she said. "This man’s starting a school for our people right here in Tuskegee, Micah. I asked him to talk with you."

I couldn’t believe it. A real school in Tuskegee, Alabama? How could my prayers have been answered so fast?

"When can I go?" I blurted.

"School starts July 4, but I understand your father desires your help," Mr. Washington began. "Besides, you’re not quite 14, and we’re only taking students 16 and older."

"But I have to go to school now or I’ll die!" I exclaimed. "How can I wait for two years?"

Mammy set salt pork and cornbread on the table, but I’d lost my appetite.

Familiar Story

Mr. Washington began to tell a story: "Once a small slave boy rode a horse to the mill to pick up grain for his master. Often the sack slid to the ground. Because the boy could not lift it, he sometimes waited until dark for help. Hours passed as he cried and prayed. Somebody always arrived."

I wondered what Mr. Washington’s story had to do with me.

"The little boy carried his owner’s daughter’s books and gazed longingly into her school. He wished with all his heart that he could learn how to read, too, but it was against the law to teach a slave."

I listened more intently and took a bite of cornbread.

"After the Civil War, the boy, who was 9, labored in the salt mines. His freedom from slavery meant he could learn legally. When a school opened, he worked at the mines three hours before classes and two hours after."

"He must’ve wanted it bad, like I do," I interrupted. I wondered if I’d really have that much gumption.

"His stepfather busted his leg, so the boy quit school and became a coal miner. He feared he’d live underground forever and turn into a mole. Even when he lost hope, his mother kept praying."

I found it hard to imagine not breathing a whiff of fresh air or feeling the warmth of sunshine on my skin. Mines had to be much worse than cotton fields.

"Finally, a picky lady hired him as a fix-it man and cleaner. She expected perfection. After he dusted, she’d check every corner and often make him do it over."

"That sounds worse than Pap!" I exclaimed.

"Many times he wanted to quit but later felt grateful he stuck it out. He learned the importance of perseverance, which means never giving up. When he was 15, he heard about the Hampton Institute and journeyed 500 miles, mostly on foot, to reach the college."

"That must’ve taken forever," I said.

Mr. Washington nodded. "He ran out of money in Richmond, Virginia, so he slept under a wooden sidewalk and worked at the shipyard until he earned enough to travel 82 more miles to his destination."

"He sure did have a lot of persever . . . what did you call that?" I asked.

"Perseverance. He needed more, too. Tired and dirty with only 50 cents in his pocket, he approached the assistant principal, Miss Mackie. She took one look at him and almost turned him away, but instead, she told him to clean a room."

"After he was so tired?" Micah asked in disbelief.

"He understood that this was his entrance test," Mr. Washington continued. "Scrubbing vigorously, he cleaned the room top to bottom at least four times. After her inspection, Miss Mackie accepted him into the college and awarded him the job of janitor to pay his tuition."

Perfect Agreement

"Who’s the boy?" I asked.

"That was me, Micah," Mr. Washington said. "I’ve learned that hard work and education fit together like a puzzle. You can’t separate them. Promise me something."

"Anything, as long as I can go to your school," I responded eagerly.

"For the next two years, work hard for your father and give it your best. Then I believe you’ll come to Tuskegee with his blessing."

That seemed hard to imagine, but I shook his hand and agreed.

The following day, I scrambled onto the roof and hammered all the loose wooden shingles. "What can I do next?" I asked Pap.

He eyed me suspiciously. "Do you want something?"

"Nothing, Pap. Just wanting to work." We repaired the pig fence together.

"What now?" I asked.

"Somethin’ wrong with you?" He placed his hand on my forehead, checking for a fever.

"No, Pap, just tryin’ to get some perseverance," I explained. A grin spread across his face.

"Well, Son," he said. "I think the only cure for that disease is to read your book so I can rest."

Booker T. Washington

Booker T. Washington, one of the most influential African-Americans in history, started the Tuskegee Institute in Alabama on July 4, 1881. With limited funds and few supplies, he visited local shacks to recruit his students.

With diligence and determination, Washington transformed his college for African-Americans from a run-down building with 30 students to a school with 100 buildings, 238 staff and more than 1,500 students. The institute taught reading, writing, arithmetic and Bible as well as trades such as carpentry, tailoring and farming.

Washington wrote his autobiography, Up From Slavery, in 1901, advised President Theodore Roosevelt about racial issues and had tea with Queen Victoria in England.

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