“‘There is here, what is not in the old country. In spite of hard unfamiliar things, there is here—hope. In the old country, a man can be no more than his father, providing he works hard. If his father was a carpenter, he may be a carpenter. He may not be a teacher or a priest. He may rise—but only to his father’s state. In the old country, a man is given to the past. Here he belongs to the future. In this land, he may be what he will, if he has the good heart and the way of working honestly at the right things.’
“‘That is not so. Your children have not done better than you.’
“Mary Rommely sighed. ‘That may be my fault. I knew not how to teach my daughters because I have nothing behind me excepting that for hundreds of years, my family has worked on the land of some overlord. I did not send my first child to the school. I was ignorant and did not know at first that the children of folk like us were allowed the free education of this land. Thus, Sissy had no chance to do better than me. But the other three…you went to school.’
“‘I finished the sixth grade, if that is what is called education.’
“‘And your Yohnny’ (she could not pronounce ‘j’), ‘did too. Don’t you see?’ Excitement came into her voice. ‘Already, it is starting—the getting better.’ She picked up the baby and held it high in her arms. ‘This child was born of parents who can read and write,’ she said simply. ‘To me, this is a great wonder.’”
Betty Smith, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn