I was the child of immigrants and we didn’t have lots of money when I was a child. And I lived in the poor section of an affluent town. At school there were always events, requirements, projects, trips that I either couldn’t participate in fully. You know the old meme about Crayola crayons vs, Rose Art? That was my life, but we didn’t even have Rose Art quality crayons.
One school I taught at had a blanket field trip form so the teachers/advisors could take their classes to a nearby coffee house/bakery. My kids were always begging me to take them. I never did, because I knew what it felt like to drink only water while everyone else had sodas or ice cream or lunch.
As an adult I’ve never had to worry about any of this. My kids got Crayola crayons and wore clothes that fit them (don’t get me started on hand-me-downs when I was taller than most of the older kids we knew), but I have never forgotten what it feels like not to fit in.
Here’s another perspective on this topic. When Elite Parents Dominate Volunteers
Books I’m reading now:
All Beautiful Things by Nicki Salcedo
Shadow of Night by Deborah Harkness
Prodigal Mage by Karen Miller