Sammy Squirrel moved with his family to Dingly Dell from Alabama when he was in the third grade. Even 
though he talked funny and played different games than his schoolmates, Sammy made friends easily because he was a very friendly little squirrel. Mr. Knucklypaws took extra time to explain things to Sammy, like why in Dingly Dell being able to read does not make a squirrel an uppity Yankee.
After school Sammy often went to his friends’ houses and sometimes they came to his. The only friend he never saw after school was Bobby Duck. All the other kids either walked home together or carpooled with one of the mommies (but not Mrs. Ling Ling Panda, who was a very bad driver).
Sammy didn’t know where Bobby Duck went after school until one day when Sammy saw Bobby standing on the sidewalk around the corner from the playground. He was just standing there, not
playing with anyone, tapping his web, waiting for something. But what could Bobby Duck be waiting for? Sammy wondered. Where was his mommy, Mrs. Duck? And why did he have to wait around the corner all alone instead of right in front of the school?
The next day at recess, Bobby Duck was beating all the other little boys at basketball and Sammy asked him, “Bobby, why were you standing on the sidewalk around the corner after school yesterday?”
“I was waiting on the bus,” Bobby told him.
“What’s that?” asked Sammy.
“It’s the big thing on which the wheels go round and fucking round that takes my feathered
ass home in the afternoon,” said Bobby.
Sammy squinched up his little squirrel face and tilted his tuffly tail. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Why doesn’t your mommy pick you up?”
“Because she’s off wiping rich bottoms at the hospital for a living,” Bobby quacked.
“Well what about your daddy?” asked Sammy.
“Look,” Bobby told him, “don’t go there.”
Then the conversation got kind of snippy.
“Can’t you walk?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I live clear out in East Dingly.”
“Where’s that?”
“Someplace your cracker parents won’t ever let you go to.”
“Well if it’s so far away, why don’t you go to school there?”
“Because I have a scholarship.”
“What’s that?”
Bobby Duck was getting tired of talking to Sammy Squirrel. But since he was a patient duck (and since Sammy was from Alabama and required a thorough explanation) he thought he should take the time to lay out a few facts.
“O.k. kid,” he said. “Here’s how it works. I’m poor and rich, snooty schools like Dingly Elementary think it’s a kind thing to let poor kids like me come here because it will give me a better chance at not being poor when I grow up. Even though I’m the only duck in the whole school, even though I go home to a cold apartment where I have to fend for myself until my mommy comes in at midnight after working her second job, even though I sleep on a used fold-out couch and you sleep in a big fluffy nest, even though I don’t really even like most of you with your new clothes and your lunch money and your MP3 players, my mommy agrees with parents like yours that it’s a good idea for me to come here, particularly since it’s free. It doesn’t matter that I am a very smart duck, if I stayed in East Dingly all day I would get drawn into a lifestyle that would keep me from ever having the sorts of chances you take for granted. That’s what a scholarship is. Got it?”
“Yeah, I got it,” said Sammy. “But why are you poor?”
Bobby’s patience was nearly at an end, but he went on explaining.
“I’m poor,” he said, “because my mommy is raising me on her own. I’m poor because for more than 300 years it was illegal in parts of this country to teach a duck to read. I’m poor because the new laws that are supposed to provide me with an equal webbed-footing actually just perpetuate the same old stereotypical roles for ducks and squirrels. I’m poor because my ancestors had no access to opportunities to build wealth, pass down capital or develop the inter-
generational value system and culture of progress that your duck-owning ancestors have been building upon for 14 generations. I’m poor,” declared Bobby, “Because the Squirrel keeps me down.”
“That’s why you’re poor?” asked Sammy.
Bobby quacked, “Yes motherfucker! That’s why I’m poor.”
“Oh,” said Sammy. “My daddy said it’s because you’re black.”
though he talked funny and played different games than his schoolmates, Sammy made friends easily because he was a very friendly little squirrel. Mr. Knucklypaws took extra time to explain things to Sammy, like why in Dingly Dell being able to read does not make a squirrel an uppity Yankee.After school Sammy often went to his friends’ houses and sometimes they came to his. The only friend he never saw after school was Bobby Duck. All the other kids either walked home together or carpooled with one of the mommies (but not Mrs. Ling Ling Panda, who was a very bad driver).
Sammy didn’t know where Bobby Duck went after school until one day when Sammy saw Bobby standing on the sidewalk around the corner from the playground. He was just standing there, not
playing with anyone, tapping his web, waiting for something. But what could Bobby Duck be waiting for? Sammy wondered. Where was his mommy, Mrs. Duck? And why did he have to wait around the corner all alone instead of right in front of the school?The next day at recess, Bobby Duck was beating all the other little boys at basketball and Sammy asked him, “Bobby, why were you standing on the sidewalk around the corner after school yesterday?”
“I was waiting on the bus,” Bobby told him.
“What’s that?” asked Sammy.
“It’s the big thing on which the wheels go round and fucking round that takes my feathered
ass home in the afternoon,” said Bobby.Sammy squinched up his little squirrel face and tilted his tuffly tail. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Why doesn’t your mommy pick you up?”
“Because she’s off wiping rich bottoms at the hospital for a living,” Bobby quacked.
“Well what about your daddy?” asked Sammy.
“Look,” Bobby told him, “don’t go there.”
Then the conversation got kind of snippy.
“Can’t you walk?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I live clear out in East Dingly.”
“Where’s that?”
“Someplace your cracker parents won’t ever let you go to.”
“Well if it’s so far away, why don’t you go to school there?”
“Because I have a scholarship.”
“What’s that?”
Bobby Duck was getting tired of talking to Sammy Squirrel. But since he was a patient duck (and since Sammy was from Alabama and required a thorough explanation) he thought he should take the time to lay out a few facts.
“O.k. kid,” he said. “Here’s how it works. I’m poor and rich, snooty schools like Dingly Elementary think it’s a kind thing to let poor kids like me come here because it will give me a better chance at not being poor when I grow up. Even though I’m the only duck in the whole school, even though I go home to a cold apartment where I have to fend for myself until my mommy comes in at midnight after working her second job, even though I sleep on a used fold-out couch and you sleep in a big fluffy nest, even though I don’t really even like most of you with your new clothes and your lunch money and your MP3 players, my mommy agrees with parents like yours that it’s a good idea for me to come here, particularly since it’s free. It doesn’t matter that I am a very smart duck, if I stayed in East Dingly all day I would get drawn into a lifestyle that would keep me from ever having the sorts of chances you take for granted. That’s what a scholarship is. Got it?”
“Yeah, I got it,” said Sammy. “But why are you poor?”
Bobby’s patience was nearly at an end, but he went on explaining.
“I’m poor,” he said, “because my mommy is raising me on her own. I’m poor because for more than 300 years it was illegal in parts of this country to teach a duck to read. I’m poor because the new laws that are supposed to provide me with an equal webbed-footing actually just perpetuate the same old stereotypical roles for ducks and squirrels. I’m poor because my ancestors had no access to opportunities to build wealth, pass down capital or develop the inter-
generational value system and culture of progress that your duck-owning ancestors have been building upon for 14 generations. I’m poor,” declared Bobby, “Because the Squirrel keeps me down.”“That’s why you’re poor?” asked Sammy.
Bobby quacked, “Yes motherfucker! That’s why I’m poor.”
“Oh,” said Sammy. “My daddy said it’s because you’re black.”
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