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What makes a Narrative?
About the Author
Francisco Jiménez (1943–) was born in Tlaquepaque, Mexico, and grew up
in a family of migrant workers in California. He spent much of his childhood moving around California with no permanent home or regular schooling, yet despite incredible odds he went on to have a distinguished academic career. A graduate of Santa Clara University, he also attended Harvard University and received both a master’s degree and a PhD from Columbia University.
A longtime writer of academic works for adults, Jiménez’s entry into writing for young people came through an award-winning short story, “The Circuit,” based on his childhood.
Short Story
sharecropper: a farmer who farms another person’s property in exchange for a share of the crops or the sale of them
Word CoNNeCTIoNS
Content Connections
A bracero is a Spanish word that means “one who works with his arm.” The word was used to describe Mexicans who were invited to come to the United States to work as laborers during World War II. With so many Americans overseas at war, workers were needed in industries such as agriculture and rail transportation. Braceros often worked under extreme conditions for low pay. The U.S. government Bracero program ended in 1964.
my Notes
Circuit
by Francisco Jiménez
1 It was that time of year again. Ito, the strawberry sharecropper, did not smile. It was natural. The peak of the strawberry season was over and the last few days the workers, most of them braceros, were not picking as many boxes as they had during the months of June and July.
2 As the last days of August disappeared, so did the number of braceros. Sunday, only one—the best picker—came to work. I liked him. Sometimes we talked during our half-hour lunch break. That is how I found out he was from Jalisco, the same state in Mexico my family was from. That Sunday was the last time I saw him.
3 When the sun had tired and sunk behind the mountains, Ito signaled us that it was time to go home. “Ya esora,” he yelled in his broken Spanish. Those were the words I waited for twelve hours a day, every day, seven days a week, week after week. And the thought of not hearing them again saddened me.
4 As we drove home Papá did not say a word. With both hands on the wheel, he stared at the dirt road. My older brother, Roberto, was also silent. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Once in a while he cleared from his throat the dust that blew in from outside.
5 Yes, it was that time of year. When I opened the front door to the shack, I stopped. Everything we owned was neatly packed in cardboard boxes. Suddenly I felt even more the weight of hours, days, weeks, and months of work. I sat down on a box. The thought of having to move to Fresno and knowing what was in store for me there brought tears to my eyes.
6 That night I could not sleep. I lay in bed thinking about how much I hated this move.
The
6 SpringBoard® English Language Arts Grade 6
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