It’s 1970 and I’m a big shot

I’m in ninth grade and about to participate in my first sit-in. Why not? The whole country is protesting something – women’s rights, the Vietnam War, President Nixon. I’m nervous, though. I don’t want to get kicked out of school.

The sit-in was planned yesterday when we were told that us girls could no longer wear short skirts. Instead, they had to be no more than an inch above the knee. How stupid is that?

Before school starts, about 50 of us sit on the front lawn. The bell rings to begin the day. We look at each other. We don’t get up. Man, are we feeling triumphant.

Until the principal shows up and says, “Get to class. Now!”

One by one, we stand and sulk our way through the school doors and to class.

I guess we need more practice at this protesting thing.

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