If you grew up poor...

[Anonymous]

It's hard to comprehend the fact that these stories are actually real things that happened to innocent little children. To all the PPs who have shared parts of their lives here, thank you. Overcoming childhood poverty is pretty significant - there are so many hurdles along the way, even into adulthood. Anyone who has overcome childhood poverty and gone on to help underprivileged kids, even in small ways, should be immensely proud.

I wish more coverage would be given to stories like this in the news - because they are interesting and inspirational, especially at this time of year as we reflect on all we have to be thankful for.

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:I did not grow up poor but my father did. He grew up poor, abused, and neglected. He saved himself by volunteering for the military as soon as they let him; I think he was just 17. After he served, he went to college on the GI Bill and got the hell out of dodge.

The PP who finds it hard to say no to her DC reminded me of one of my favorite stories about my dad:

He never told people about his past. In fact, my sibling and I knew very little about his childhood while growing up. He was stern and quiet. But he would break character at Christmas and was well-known for consistently buying the biggest and most expensive items on the local "Angel Tree" each year. He'd buy children Nintendo systems, walkmans, bikes, etc... He'd wrap it up himself and deliver the goodies to the tree with glee.

Apparently, when he was 6, he was asked at church make out a list for "Santa." His mother took the paper and wrote out that he wanted mittens and a coat. He was angry and threw a fit. Santa, after all, was supposed to bring you toys and that's what he wanted. At the church Christmas celebration that year, he got his coat and mittens, along with a giant robot toy that he had coveted for some time. He said he never felt better in his life than at that moment and he would never let a kid's Christmas wish go unfulfilled, if he could help it.

Brought me to tears. God bless your father. What a wonderful human being.

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:I grew up farm poor like most in my community which had been cash poor for generations. It wasn't the abject poverty many on this thread suffered. But it's a different experience (and mentality) than what is typical on DCUM. Food wasn't usually an issue and most people did not have AC (I actually didn't live in a place with it until I was in my mid 20s and living in DC). It wasn't unusual for people to have unheated bedrooms and most kids I knew shared bedrooms. Ours were unheated and there were 3 of us to a bedroom. Everyone worked from an early age - and a lot of it was hard work. Lots of hand me downs and doing without, taking food to a neighbor who was struggling.

One thing I haven't seen mentioned here is that when people did have birthday parties, gifts were NEVER opened at the party. To do so might embarrass someone who couldn't afford to bring a gift or might invite comparison between gifts. You invited someone to your party because you wanted their company. You wouldn't want them to decline because they couldn't afford a present nor would you want them to have to choose between attending or spending money they didn't have.

I've posted a few times on the 'why don't you open presents at the party?' threads. I'm appalled at at the obliviousness of some of the posters - people who think they know who's poor because they volunteer at the school and know who gets a FARM.

I am another who grew up on a farm and poor. It's a different kind of poor. I never went to any school events either because I went home and worked. I fed animals before I went to school. We were never hungry but we usually ate deer meat. I could skin a squirrel by the time I was six. And then cook it. My grandmother, who lived on the farm next door, baked and cooked on a wood-burning kitchen stove. we all heated the houses with coal we mined ourselves out of an exposed vein on the back 300 acres, with a pick and shovel we'd then dump in the tractor bucket and haul to the shed. In potbellied stoves -- during cold snaps we'd all sleep in the kitchens around the stove in sleeping bags. If I left a glass of water beside my bed in the winter, I could break ice out of it by morning.

my grandma got indoor plumbing in 1986. My grandpa PaPaw was a hunchback and I was pretty scared of him -- he got that when a board fell off the scaffolding and onto him when he was roofing a house. he was 86 at the time.

It's just a different way of life, growing up on a farm in Appalachia. I feel very sorry for a lot of the other posters on this thread, they had it hard. I actually really loved my childhood, it was very different but more like an adventure than a burden. If I could go back I wouldn't change it. I lived in DC for a while with all the benefits city life can confer and hated it. I'm back on a farm, albeit a much nicer one with every modern convenience, and happy again. I can't stand to live around so many people, it's crushing.

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:

Mixing one can of Cambell's condensed soup with 2 cans of water. I thought that was how you made soup. Now I know that is how you stretch a can of soup to make lunch for 5 kids.

Me too!

We did this with juice. The food pantry donated juice was supposed to get three cans of water to one can of concentrate. My mom always added 4 cans of water to make it stretch. To this day, I prefer the taste of watery juice. Now of course, people water their kids juice because they were afraid of obesity, but I needed the calories and vitamins growing up.

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:I also did the rolled up toilet paper.
When I was 14 I desperately needed Clearasil, and my mom wrapped it up as a Christmas present. I wish she had given it to me when she bought it, as I had to suffer without until I got it.
I had just 3 outfits I could wear to school. I attended a high cost of living area school and everyone noticed. I also only had 4 pairs of dark green underwear that I used to wash by hand very often. My classmates must have thought I only had one pair.
I cleaned peoples houses for money and this one old lady was very nice to me
I did not have close friends, and avoided parties and out of school functions. My dad wanted me to go, I had to explain that I just do not have clothes to out in.
I did not want to go to my prom, but my mom sowed a prom dress for me so I could not get out of it

I also rolled up TP, but it was a summer thing. My mother worked in a school setting and Sept to June, she brought home sanitary napkins for us to use. These were the old style, thick and bulky with a single strip of adhesive. No wings. They each came in a crinkly paper wrapper. I'd unwrap 2-3 at home and fold them as flat as I could then secure each with a rubber band. As much as I hated them, I hated wadding up toilet paper more. I didn't get to try a tampon until college.

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:Thank you to everyone who has shared their stories. They are heartbreaking. I'm curious how you all were able yo break the cycle? How were you able to make better choices?

Being in poverty isn't just about making better choices. Often the poor must choose between rotten choice A and horrible choice B because they have no access to halfway decent Choice C let alone Great Choice D and Best Choice E. My mom's dad died when she was in ES. Schools were she grew up were segregated by law (not just defacto) and she worked from the time she was 12. When she became very sick and her marriage fell apart, she did not have family money to fall back on to tide her over through cancer treatments and a long marital separation. She lost our house and with it all her savings. What choices was her life supposed to teach me to make better?

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:Thank you to everyone who has shared their stories. They are heartbreaking. I'm curious how you all were able yo break the cycle? How were you able to make better choices?

Being in poverty isn't just about making better choices. Often the poor must choose between rotten choice A and horrible choice B because they have no access to halfway decent Choice C let alone Great Choice D and Best Choice E. My mom's dad died when she was in ES. Schools were she grew up were segregated by law (not just defacto) and she worked from the time she was 12. When she became very sick and her marriage fell apart, she did not have family money to fall back on to tide her over through cancer treatments and a long marital separation. She lost our house and with it all her savings. What choices was her life supposed to teach me to make better?

+100000000000000000000

Oh, if life were all about personal accountability and choice.

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:Thank you to everyone who has shared their stories. They are heartbreaking. I'm curious how you all were able yo break the cycle? How were you able to make better choices?

Being in poverty isn't just about making better choices. Often the poor must choose between rotten choice A and horrible choice B because they have no access to halfway decent Choice C let alone Great Choice D and Best Choice E. My mom's dad died when she was in ES. Schools were she grew up were segregated by law (not just defacto) and she worked from the time she was 12. When she became very sick and her marriage fell apart, she did not have family money to fall back on to tide her over through cancer treatments and a long marital separation. She lost our house and with it all her savings. What choices was her life supposed to teach me to make better?

+100000000000000000000

Oh, if life were all about personal accountability and choice.

Exactly. What I'd like to hear, rather than what "better choices" folks made, was who gave them a hand up? Who was there for them? For me it was a HS teacher who took the time to help me navigate the college admissions process, since no one in my family had gone past high school. The time he put into helping me figure out the process, come up with a system for organizing my applications (this was before the Common App or online applications) and apply for a admissions fee waiver was such an investment in my future.

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:Thank you to everyone who has shared their stories. They are heartbreaking. I'm curious how you all were able yo break the cycle? How were you able to make better choices?

Being in poverty isn't just about making better choices. Often the poor must choose between rotten choice A and horrible choice B because they have no access to halfway decent Choice C let alone Great Choice D and Best Choice E. My mom's dad died when she was in ES. Schools were she grew up were segregated by law (not just defacto) and she worked from the time she was 12. When she became very sick and her marriage fell apart, she did not have family money to fall back on to tide her over through cancer treatments and a long marital separation. She lost our house and with it all her savings. What choices was her life supposed to teach me to make better?

+100000000000000000000

Oh, if life were all about personal accountability and choice.

Exactly. What I'd like to hear, rather than what "better choices" folks made, was who gave them a hand up? Who was there for them? For me it was a HS teacher who took the time to help me navigate the college admissions process, since no one in my family had gone past high school. The time he put into helping me figure out the process, come up with a system for organizing my applications (this was before the Common App or online applications) and apply for a admissions fee waiver was such an investment in my future.

I posted earlier about being poor, neglected and abused and running away. I had no family. After I turned 18 and got out of foster care I stayed with an estranged family member who turned out to be a drug addict, kicked me out, and left me homeless my senior year of h.s. At a new school in a new town. My vice principal found out and took me home. I lived with her until I left for college. She pushed me to apply for school, took me to the bank to apply for loans, put me in touch with scholarship opportunities. I was determined to make it but honestly don't know that I would have without her mentoring. I hope one day to make that kind of difference in somebody's life.

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:Thank you to everyone who has shared their stories. They are heartbreaking. I'm curious how you all were able yo break the cycle? How were you able to make better choices?

Being in poverty isn't just about making better choices. Often the poor must choose between rotten choice A and horrible choice B because they have no access to halfway decent Choice C let alone Great Choice D and Best Choice E. My mom's dad died when she was in ES. Schools were she grew up were segregated by law (not just defacto) and she worked from the time she was 12. When she became very sick and her marriage fell apart, she did not have family money to fall back on to tide her over through cancer treatments and a long marital separation. She lost our house and with it all her savings. What choices was her life supposed to teach me to make better?

+100000000000000000000

Oh, if life were all about personal accountability and choice.

Exactly. What I'd like to hear, rather than what "better choices" folks made, was who gave them a hand up? Who was there for them? For me it was a HS teacher who took the time to help me navigate the college admissions process, since no one in my family had gone past high school. The time he put into helping me figure out the process, come up with a system for organizing my applications (this was before the Common App or online applications) and apply for a admissions fee waiver was such an investment in my future.

I'm not the person you quoted, but I agree wholeheartedly. I became a teacher because I feel like I owe "karma." The elementary school secretary begged my mom to not send me to the neighborhood junior high. She pulled strings at the last minute to get me into a magnet middle school across town. My middle school counselor refused to send off my applications to the vocational school that was essentially a last resort for juvenile offenders. Behind the scenes, she got all of my teachers to give recommendations for me to go to a really good magnet high school. In high school I nearly dropped out to work full time. Various teachers donated money, food, clothes, and put up with my sh*t. By that time I had a huge chip on my shoulder from all of the stress in my home life, but they helped me nonetheless. I'm so far from where most of my friends and family ended up. I've found a few of my teachers on Facebook and sent them detailed thank you notes.

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:Thank you to everyone who has shared their stories. They are heartbreaking. I'm curious how you all were able yo break the cycle? How were you able to make better choices?

Being in poverty isn't just about making better choices. Often the poor must choose between rotten choice A and horrible choice B because they have no access to halfway decent Choice C let alone Great Choice D and Best Choice E. My mom's dad died when she was in ES. Schools were she grew up were segregated by law (not just defacto) and she worked from the time she was 12. When she became very sick and her marriage fell apart, she did not have family money to fall back on to tide her over through cancer treatments and a long marital separation. She lost our house and with it all her savings. What choices was her life supposed to teach me to make better?

+100000000000000000000

Oh, if life were all about personal accountability and choice.

Exactly. What I'd like to hear, rather than what "better choices" folks made, was who gave them a hand up? Who was there for them? For me it was a HS teacher who took the time to help me navigate the college admissions process, since no one in my family had gone past high school. The time he put into helping me figure out the process, come up with a system for organizing my applications (this was before the Common App or online applications) and apply for a admissions fee waiver was such an investment in my future.

I posted earlier about being poor, neglected and abused and running away. I had no family. After I turned 18 and got out of foster care I stayed with an estranged family member who turned out to be a drug addict, kicked me out, and left me homeless my senior year of h.s. At a new school in a new town. My vice principal found out and took me home. I lived with her until I left for college. She pushed me to apply for school, took me to the bank to apply for loans, put me in touch with scholarship opportunities. I was determined to make it but honestly don't know that I would have without her mentoring. I hope one day to make that kind of difference in somebody's life.

In a lot of ways, it sounds like you saved your life and put you on a good path. Do you still keep in touch with her? Send her birthday and holiday cards and presents? Would you start a scholarship in her honor?

[Anonymous]

I'm 17:52. The two things that made a difference for me were the desegregation of schools (de jure and defacto) and a senior year teacher who discovered I was desperately poor. I was able to go to a good university on partial scholarship (the rest loans) and then full-ride grad school for two degrees.
I changed careers 15 years ago and now teach myself. Every year during preservice, my principal makes these paper t-shirts that say "____ is my superpower." I wish everyone's would say "spotting the secretly poor kids". There are countless in DCUMland's best schools. They need our help.

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:I grew up poor but that is because my parents lived way beyond their means. If we lived in a cheaper area we would have lived more comfortably, but they had to live in a certain community. We didn't exactly go without but we lived on credit so my memories are of how stressful life is when you are deep in debt. Maxed out credit cards, struggling to make the house and car payment etc. It's all they could ever talk about and it created a lot of anxiety for me.

Believe me, more people should be eating beans and rice until pay day. You would never know a person's financial situation because so many people live on credit

This my situation too. And all my neighbors/school friends had a lot more money, which was hard.

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:We were homeless 3 times. I can remember sleeping in our car in my grandmothers driveway. I still have fears of being homeless. Honestly my worst experience was from church. I rode the church bus every Sunday and Wednesday. One Sunday when I was 9 I was pulled aside and told I couldn't come back to church unless I wore a dress. I remember crying because Ive never owned a dress and just knew we couldn't afford one. The next Wednesday was supposed to be a special event with a magician and ice cream party for awanas. I sat on my porch and the bus never came. I cried and sat there for hours thinking about that ice cream party To this day I refuse to ever go to another church. Im crying just thinking about the cruelty that was shown toward me as a child.

That's heartbreaking.

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:putting things back at the grocery store b/c we did not have enough money for the bill

Crap. I do this today a lot, but I have to believe that my DH and I are on the right path. I lost my job, but I'm looking at going back to school for something better.

DH grew up very poor. He and his 2 older brothers grew up in a shit hole. There is no other way to put it. Today CPS would have taken all 3 of them out of there. My husband got straight A's through out school, which is a interesting thing,because neither of his parents have more than a HS diploma. He joined the military as soon as he possibly could. Went to military college and went on to complete his masters degree. He loves the military, because of it saving his life. He and his brothers had to share baths and beds. He remembers his brothers clothes coming from Good Will and he had to wear the hand me downs after them. Sadly, he is a lot taller than his brothers and hated how they did't fit. He remembers that almost all of his socks had holes and his Christmas presents were all hand me downs from his brothers. When they got their own mattresses they were from the side of the road. He also grew up in Chicago, so he remembers ALWAYS being cold. They also never really had fresh vegetables and always the real old bread.

He is now a little crazy about his socks and is weird when it comes to having warm meals with vegetables. He is always worried about losing his job and is now worried that I lost mine.

I have to say he's a bit of a survivor. As soon as I lost my job, he started looking for a second. I know he'll do whatever it takes for us to not go without.