During my college orientation tour, my guide asked what dorm I’d be staying in. “Hart Hall,” I said. It was the cheapest option available on campus, at an already expensive school, and I needed to save every penny of my scholarship money to afford books, groceries, and supplies.
With a look on her face like she’d just sucked on a lemon, the guide blurted out, “Hart Hall? That’s where all the poor kids stay.” My face went hot as the blood rushed to my cheeks — out of embarrassment, anger, both. I couldn’t stop staring at my shoes. “Thanks,” I said, quietly. “I guess I’m one of the poor kids.” We didn’t talk much for the rest of the tour.
