When I was nine or ten years old, I was lucky enough to be enrolled in whatseemed like the last financial literacy class broadly offered in public schoolsHomeEconomics. I just loved that class, could not wait to go, because it was practical and itconnected what I was learning in school with how I soon needed to be living.

One day a banker came into our classroom to teach a financial literacy lesson.The banker was white but he might as well have been orange. He wasn‘t from adifferent race; he was from a different planetthat place where rich people lived, whichI saw so often on television. He was wearing a blue suit, red tie, and white shirt, and hewas speaking a different language from all of us, the language of money.

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