The Gold Star

I remember Sister Genevieve
opening her little red and white box
of gold stars and carefully taking one,

poised carefully on her fingertips,
to her lips to lick it then placing
it on a chart with fifty names.

Only thirteen got that gold star
for a 100% on their spelling test
but they were the same ones who
had a row of stars earned week after week.

At least sixteen in the class of fifty
had no stars since September and probably
wouldn’t get one the rest of the year.

What I know now, is the gold star
was an indicator of wealth and privilege.
Every so often there was an anomaly, like Eliza,

whose father was a migrant worker.
She broke the bell curve and earned that star
every week, but she never got the status,
never became the teacher’s favorite

relegated instead to work with those
of her ethnicity in order to lift
them up to equalize the gap.