The winner of the 2010 Hays C. Kirby Memorial Essay Contest is...
Madison Scruggs, from Keller, Texas. Congratulations to Madison, who will be awarded a $5,000 scholarship along with $500 for her school, and $250 for her class!
Here is Madison's winning entry, followed by a brief bio on the man this award was named for, Hays C. Kirby.
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I Pledge Allegiance to the Flag
The hem of my dress fluttered around my ankles as my petticoat began to feel heavier and heavier under the soft weight of my silk skirt. Today was not a very good day to be late to the schoolhouse--after all, it was bad enough that I would be leaving my new associate, Jane, to manage the children on her own, but there was also a very special gift that Headmistress Ann had told me would be waiting on my desk by the time I arrived.
I finally turned down the old road that let to the relatively new structure; the school at which I had been employed for some three or so years. The yellow building loomed above the trees, casting a shadow over my hurried frame as I rushed up the steps and inside the building. One of my students scurried inside after me.
“S’not the best day fo’ us to be late, eh, Mrs. Hope?”
“You know to call me Miss, now. And use your grammar, child,” I scolded. As we entered, the bustling children that decorated the hall limited their conversations to dull murmurs. Jane, looking tried and harried, rushed over to me.
“Where have you been? They’ve been in an uproar trying to decide what’s in the package on your desk.”
My heart leapt in my chest. I did love a good surprise. The triangular, folded package resting atop my wooden desk amidst the children’s assignments made itself clearer and clearer to me as I approached my lectern, settling myself into my chair. It was then when I noticed the excited throngs of babbling children who had now been struck by silence, staring at me with newfound curiosity.
“Goodness me, children, it’s only a package. Rightly so. We’ll see what’s inside, and then we’ll learn about writing letters. All right?”
Many of the children answered back with an enthusiastic, “All right!” I motioned for them to take their seats, and all of them did, jittery and nervous. I laughed to myself, thinking that perhaps these children had never received many packages before. What a shame that would be if it were true.
I peeled back a corner of the thin paper. A white, embroidered star was revealed, nestled onto a silken blue material. My breath caught in my throat in a ball of anxiety. I pulled at the swatch of blue cloth and revealed it to the class in a giant sweep, listening to them gasp as I revealed to them the flag of the United States of America.
“I ain’t never seen a flag look that nice, Miss,” called a young boy from the back, the same that I had run into on my rush inside the school.
“Grammar, Elton,” I scolded him once more.
“It’s the prettiest flag I ever did see.”
“Better.” I extracted the long wooden pole that would be used to hang the flag, nice and tall, above the chalkboard. Several of the children had wandered over to my desk, examining the red, white, and blue colors all arranged on the rectangle of silk, sitting casually on my desk as if it had lived there since its creation. To me, it felt like a stranger. The loud outburst of color made me feel like wadding it up and stuffing it back into the wrapping it had come in. It wasn’t that I didn’t love my country - I was as patriotic as anyone who walked the streets of our small town- but something just didn’t feel right about this showy piece of fabric stealing the children’s attention.
“Shall we hang it, children?” I asked them, and they cheered with agreement. Several of the taller kids helped me attach the wooden pole to the wall with a mount, and after it was holding steady I grabbed the flag. It hung delicately in my hands as I hooked it on, some of its stripes gently brushing the ground.
“Remember this day, children,” I advised them, trying to raise their enthusiasm as much as I was trying to raise my own, “For it’s the first time an American flag will be hung in Saint John’s Elementary School!”
The classroom erupted in cheers. Kids were patting each other on the back, clapping with all the strength in their arms, their laughter overcoming me and making me feel giddy just by listening to them. I had never known a single piece of material could incite so much vigor in a group of children.
I turned back to my desk, peeling the thin jacket off my back and resting it on my swivel chair. I snatched my chalk from my desk drawer, feeling as if I had forgotten something. It was then that I noticed the small white piece of paper resting just where the flag had previously been situated.
“Looks like we have one more surprise, class,” I told them, much to their appeasement. However, the words on the page confused me - it was almost like a poem, but nothing rhymed, and there was no general rhythm to it. It was too short to be a story.
“I think we’re all supposed to read this together,” I finally realized. The class, energetic and full of wonder, was released into an uproar once more.
“Read it!” They called, “Read it aloud!”
“Well, alright.” I cleared my throat and began tentatively. “I pledge allegiance to my flag,” I squinted at the paper, trying to make out the barely legible handwriting scrawled across the page, “And to the Republic for which it stands. One nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.” The room was silent as I finished reading the oration. The children looked at me with wonder in their eyes and curiosity coursing through them.
“Does anybody want to tell me what this means?” I asked the crowd, half-wanting to hear for my own sake of understanding. A little girl with a pink bow threaded through her long braid, seated in the front, raised her hand tentatively. “Yes, Harriet?”
“It means that you are dedicated to the Republic,” she said shyly, “A-and justice for all.”
“Very good,” I praised, “Does anyone else have an interpretation?”
“Miss Hope,” another small girl seated towards the back raised her hand. “Does this mean all of the races are going to be equal?”
I knew just who she was thinking of. Ava was a small girl whose family was extremely well off, living in a beautiful country mansion off a private road built just for them. She often told me of a girl with whom she was great friends - one of their African American slaves’ daughter; a girl named Ellie.
“Maybe not right now,” I told her, trying to stay positive, “but someday. I know it will happen someday.”
Ava sunk back into her chair, her curly brown tendrils forming a frame of frustration around her face.
“Now, if no one has anything else to say about this, I think we’re supposed to recite it together.” The children fidgeted in their seats, not knowing whether to be excited about this exercised show of patriotism or reveal their laziness and disinterest in the drawn-out surprise of the package.
“Repeat after me.”
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The next morning, I arrived at the schoolhouse early; the sun peeking through the clouds to greet me as I disappeared into the shadow of the building. I walked through the long classroom past desks perfectly in lines, with stray papers or leftover snacks hiding in the shelves inside.
The room looked empty and, to be honest, quite a bit eerie. Shadows danced across the hardwood as the sunlight began to shift in its early morning daze. I looked behind my desk, at the new addition to our class. The grand flag hung from the wooden pole, its corner tickling the ground as a stray draft mussed it about. It reminded me of a retired war veteran- proud, full of that old, great American spirit. I took off one of my gloves and set it on the lectern, grazing the silky cloth with my bare fingers. It meant something different to me now, hanging here with all of its unsaid symbols and lessons.
“I pledge allegiance to my flag,” I said towards it, “And to the republic for which it stands.” My voice cracked and I crumpled to the floor. My hand, once grappling onto the flag, had pulled the long piece of cloth down with me, so that it fell into my lap like a blanket.
All of this new nationalistic nostalgia had pushed me over the edge; I couldn’t help but think of my late husband, Walter. I remembered him telling me just how much he loved the United States of America. How it was a country where anything could happen. He used to say that everything was better in America, that it washed away your sorrows and helped you start anew. The United States was a place where you could be whoever you wanted in the blink of an eye.
Whoever you wanted.
I blinked, and tears collected in a pool on my chin, finally dripping down onto one of the red stripes of the flag. I dragged a hand across it once more, sobbing hysterically. Oh, how I was thankful that my coworkers or children were not here to see me. I would surely be a disgrace to my good family name if I were caught suffering from hysterics in public.
An overwhelming sense of sadness washed over me like a tsunami. Yet, I held the words of my late husband delicately in my brain, repeating them over and over in my mind. America washed away your sorrows and helped you start anew.
Grasping the flag tightly, I stood carefully and hooked it back onto the wooden pole so it draped down elegantly once more.
“I pledge allegiance to my flag,” I said with booming confidence.
And everything felt all right.
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About Hays C. Kirby
The contest Madison won was named in honor of Hays C. Kirby. The great-grandson of Houston oil and timber baron John Henry Kirby, Hays Kirby shared a college dormitory room with the son of World War II fighter ace Joe Foss. Over the years, Joe mentored Hays, helped shape his character and world view, and eventually became his surrogate father.
Major General Philip Killey, former Air National Guard director, who knew Kirby almost 40 years, said “He loved his country. He would do anything for his country. He was absolutely a patriot. Hays inherited a lot of Joe's values.”
Mr. Kirby served in the United States Air Force and distinguished himself flying F100s, F104s, F16s, and F105s. He assisted in accomplishing the largest aircraft modernization effort in the Guard and Reserve history. He was an exceptional aviator and flew fighters for the Air Force Reserves' famous 301st Fighter Wing "the SPADS". Mr. Kirby was also awarded the Defense Meritorious Service Medal for his assistance to the USMC during the Haitian political crisis in 1997. He received an appointment to the Pentagon, and retired a Lt. Colonel having won the Airman's Medal in 1995.
Hays Corbett Kirby died on December 13, 2009, in a single-car accident in Wyoming. America grieves for a true patriot, but his name will live on through this annual scholarship contest.
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