In this article, the authors modify and use the metaphor of "a wolf in sheep's clothing" as the theme in uncovering racism aimed at Chicanos in higher education. The authors, who are new to the academic profession, as are many Chicanos in the field, discover that the old wolf, racism, is as active in academia as in their previous educational settings. In elementary and secondary schools the wolf's disguises include educational tracking low expectations, and negative stereotypes. Chicanos who have overcome these obstacles and who are attempting to break into the faculties and administrations of U.S. higher education institutions are finding the wolf in a new wardrobe. The authors identify the various disguises used to hide racism by higher education faculties and administrations.

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I started first grade in 1955, a year after Brown vs. Board. A third-generation American, I went to school along the border. The Mexicans (as we were known then, in spite of our citizenship or length of time we had been in this country) were already 25% of the student body and growing every year. There were few African Americans in our community then, so we were often the target of hostilities from the gringos (as we called them), both teachers and students.One year into forced integration, even the most hateful teachers began to tread lighter than usual. The difference was obvious to us. We no longer suffered the indignities of overt segregation but daily acts of covert discrimination under the guise of "helping us" was common. We were reminded almost daily not to speak Spanish in class and were punished when we slipped.We attended school with the gringos but we didn't mix much at first. An intricate pattern of educational policies, understood by teachers and school administrators and accepted by the community, sustained a subtle status quo and kept the Mexicans and gringos apart in those early years. Even though we played together at home, the "rules" wouldn't allow us to learn in class together! That would change over time, but the change was slow."I don't know why they keep the children apart," my mother would say in her heavily accented Spanish. "They already play together at home!" "Que les cuesta que se junten?" she would ask prophetically. "Un dia de éstos, se juntarán como amigos en todo lugar." Everyone ate in the school cafeteria then. It was too hot outside to eat anywhere else. The huge swamp coolers kept the cafeteria temperature down to a cool, livable, 85 degrees.

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