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When school was out, I hurried to find my sister and get out of the schoolyard before seeing anybody in my class. But Barbara and her friends, had beaten us to the playground entrance and they seemed to be waiting for us. Barbara said, So now youre in the A class.
She sounded impressed.
Whats the A class? I asked.
Everybody made superior yet faintly envious giggling sounds. Well, why did you think the teacher moved you to the front of the room, dopey? Didnt you know you were in the C class before, way in the back of the room?
Of course I hadnt known. 『The Wenatchee fifth grade was bigger than my whole school which had been in North Dakota, and the idea of subdivisions within a grade had never occurred to me.』① The subdividing for the first marking period had been done before I came to the school, and l had never, in the six weeks Id been there, talked to anyone long enough to find out about the A, B, and C classes.
I still could not understand why that had made such a difference to Barbara and her friends. I didnt yet know that it was shameful and dirty to be a transient laborer and ridiculous to be from North Dakota. I thought living in a tent was more fun than living in a house.
I didnt know that we were gypsies, really , and that we were regarded with the suspicion felt by those who plant toward those who do not plant. It didnt occur to me that we were all looked upon as one more of the untrustworthy natural phenomena, drifting here and there like mists or winds, I didnt know that I was the only child who had camped on the Baumanns land ever to get out of the C class. I didnt know that school administrators and civic leaders held conferences to talk about the problem of transient laborers.
