I didn’t know I was poor until 7th grade
I didn’t know I was poor until I went to junior high with students who came from middle class families with both parents working. Their kids had nice clothes, cars later on, and they took vacations.
After my father died, I knew that my mother and I were busy doing crafts and spending time hiking. I read indoors or under the trees. School was important, and in grade school, I was the class clown or the bookworm on alternating days. I loved school and my teachers.
I never gave a moment’s thought about being poor or rich until I began the 7th grade in a large school with students I had never seen before. I watched, studied, and learned. Because my grades were excellent, I rubbed shoulders with smart kids who happened to have wealthy parents. It was too obvious to miss: expensive clothing, shoes, parents’ flashy cars, and their bragging about weekend fun and vacations.
My best friend it turned out was not poor. I had never been to her house in grade school, but my first visit there in junior high was depressing. I was amazed.
Her family had a double car garage with new vehicles; we had a used 1949 Plymouth in the country gravel driveway. They had a television, a huge stereo, and a record player-radio combo. We had a tiny television and a small radio.
That was just the beginning of my feeling of inferiority
Then we looked into her walk-in closet with many shoes and outfits. Suddenly I was not so proud of my brown Buster Brown oxfords and over-washed green wool sweater and shirt.
When I returned to our little cottage, I thought about the contrast. However, I knew I preferred my mother and my home to my friend’s. I was full of gratitude. It came over me, and it was visceral: I was glad to be me. We were as rich as anyone.
However, upon returning to my classes, I now had a new appreciation of who was really who at school based on clothing and chit chat. It was fascinating. Some of the nicest ones were poor like me, and some of the wealthier kids were rude, spoiled snobs.
Ironically, in my advanced classes, I was considered more than equal because my grades topped those of the rich & poor. They ignored my clothing lack of variety and no-style because we all laughed and studied together. My school life was fun.
That realization changed my perspective of people in general. Appearances of wealth and appearances of poverty are false. The richest may be the poorest in spirit; the poorest may be the richest in spirit. All you have to do is look around and see through the trappings.
When I look at these politicians in the Republican extreme right, I see too many spoiled rotten kids. When I look at the extreme left in my Democrat Party, I see some whiners and unhappy kids. Of course, Trump and his minions are haters from another ivory-tower-world I never want to see take power again.
Vote Democrat
This is a great subject, Diane. We all have our own experiences. But I do think many of us who grew up poor experienced that eye-opening moment. I remember learning where I lived, DuPage County, Illinois, (land of Henry Hyde) was something like the 14th wealthiest in the nation. Then learning the "Poverty Line" based on the annual salary for a a family of six kids and we fell beneath it was an eye-opener. We literally grew up on the wrong side of the tracks, in north Elmhurst. But the public schools were fantastic and I'll always be grateful for my education. I'm still friends with several of my teachers. I grew up under my parents' belief system that I called "reverse snobbism" that we were better than the rich people, but I wasn't really sure why. The implication was corruption or something. Anyway, thank you for pointing out that, in the end, there are mostly good people in all walks of life. The really bad ones are a smaller percentage.
Well done, Diane. There's a quote from one of the kids whose family President Johnson visited, I believe in NC or Appalachia, on one of his anti-poverty tours. "I didn't know I was poor until President Johnson told me I was," the kid was quoted as saying. The conservative author of this piece suggested the federal government had no business making kids self-conscious about what they didn't have. But I suspect, like you, sooner or later they found out. Intellect and studying were your ways out of feeling poor in spirit. I still worry about the kids from poor circumstances I had who aren't so book-smart, who feel hopeless and unsuccessful, seeking negative attention by becoming disruptive and even violent. I tried to give them positive energy. Sometimes it worked, a lot of the time it did not.