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paper。 I stood waiting for an answer。

The year was 1956。 I was 9 years old。 By some twist of fate; I attended the same public school where the rich people sent their kids。 We were primarily a sugar plantation town。 The managers of the plantation and the other affluent people of the town; such as doctors; business owners; and bankers; sent their children to this school; grades 1 to 6。 After grade 6; their children were generally sent off to private schools。 Because my family lived on one side of the street; I went to this school。 Had I lived on the other side of the street; I would have gone to a different school; with kids from families more like mine。 After grade 6;these kids and I would go on to the public intermediate and high school。 There was no private school for them or for me。

My dad finally put down the paper。 I could tell he was thinking。

〃Well; son;〃 he began slowly。 〃If you want to be rich; you have to learn to make money。〃

〃How do I make money?〃 I asked。

〃Well; use your head; son;〃 he said; smiling。 Which really meant; 〃That's all I'm going to tell you;〃 or 〃I don't know the answer; so don't embarrass me。〃

A Partnership Is Formed

The next morning; I told my best friend; Mike; what my dad had said。 As best I could tell; Mike and I were the only poor kids in this school。 Mike was like me in that he was in this school by a twist of fate。 Someone had drawn a jog in the line for the school district; and we wound up in s

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