Collection 1: "My Favorite Chaperone" by Jean Davies Okimoto

When Aunt Madina asked us to come to America for the hundredth time, we were running out of things to sell and my parents finally agreed. Aunt Madina sponsored us, and not long after we got here, Papa got a job driving a cab, and Mama worked cleaning people’s houses.

He whispered something to Ms. Coe and she nodded. And then I was stunned because she nodded and pointed to me!

“The school policy on suspension requires that the parent or guardian must have a conference at school within twenty-four hours of the suspension. Can you help us locate your mother or your father?”

I stayed on the line while the dispatcher radioed Papa.

'Course, the school can’t allow fights, and this was no scuffle.

His shoulders are very broad underneath his brown leather jacket, and Papa has a powerful walk, like a large, strong horse that plows fields. He walked briskly, and as he came up the steps of the school, he removed his driver cap.

Then he put his arm across the top of the seat and turned his face to us, craning his neck.

Nurzhan looked glumly at his book.

“Oh, my poor little one!” Mama rushed to Nurzhan and examined his hands. Tenderly, she touched his face where it had been cut.

I could feel that my face was the color of borscht, and I flamed with excitement and embarrassment and couldn’t stop laughing from both joy and nervousness.

Daniel dropped me and I ran to the cab, whimpering and trembling inside like a dog caught stealing a chicken.

“Chaperone.” I said the English word. I knew this word because the parents who help the teachers supervise the kids at school activities are called this. But I hadn’t heard of a little boy being a chaperone.