I have never had to worry about having food/shelter, so I would say that I have never been poor.
This is what I would say as well. My parents were well educated starving artists, though, so we lived "by the freeway." There was just a chain link fence there, and I was forbidden to cross the frontage road. There were drug dealers down at the other end of the road, so I wasn't supposed to go too far that way either, but I pretty much ignored that advice by the time I was about 7. After all, I had to get by them to walk to the park.
All through elementary school most of my friends were in financially dire circumstances. There was not embarrassment about being free lunch: almost everyone was free lunch. Because I was just "the neighbor kid," no one paid attention to me and I saw all kinds of problems. Most of it was neglect because any parents who worked couldn't afford child care. My best friend was an only child and a latch key kid from the time he was 3. My Mom basically took him in during the day when his mom was at work and gave him lunch and a bath sometimes. It was really sad. Another of my friend's Moms, who didn't work, taught us how to "work the system" for aid when we were in 4th grade. Mom started a cub scout pack but couldn't get any of the few local dads to help, so they camped in our back yard and she'd find scrap wood and nails so that could have fun hammering and building stuff. My brother recently told me that only he and one other boy from that pack graduated from high school. That makes me sad too as they were a fun and smart bunch of little boys. As pretty much all of the kids were completely unsupervised most of the time, we'd have fun walking to the park and making up all sorts of games. I had smart, creative friends. Some of them didn't pass every level of school, so I had kids in my class who were a couple of years older than me, but I didn't think much of it.
I never felt poor in elementary school; I always felt like the rich kid because I had two parents and we always had food, and I was aware that some of my friends did not. We had winter coats and not everyone did. One mom stole my brother's coat for her own boy, and when she discovered who had it I got to witness a cat fight (my mom won.)
Once I turned 12 years old in 6th grade I started babysitting, and I babysat for more than one family that had absolutely no food. One place had only a bottle of ketchup in the fridge, and I had to put those boys to bed hungry. Another time they gave us a can of cheese puffs as they headed out to party. There I was, 12, watching a 5 year old and two toddlers, and we had a can of cheese puffs for dinner. That was it. Really I thought we were rich. My mom is a great cook who can make something delicious from practically nothing. We had a car, which not everyone had, and even though it was rusted out and constantly leaked oil we would go to the museums, which were free. My mom taught me to play the piano, and my brother and I were the only children I knew who were privileged enough to be given such a skill as playing an instrument. I knew there were "super-rich" people who lived in other neighborhoods, but they just seemed like a fairy tale. Even though they tried to hide it, I know my parents worried constantly about money. And my mom put on a good show: she'd bake treats and have parties for all the neighbor children for our birthdays and for Halloween.
It was in junior high when I got sent up the hill for 7th grade that I had the epiphany: we were fairly poor, and everyone I knew was poor. I was from the absolute armpit of middle class area, and all of the other kids from the other elementary schools were well off. "Blighted" was the word that I overheard one of the wealthy dads use for my neighborhood. I had to look it up.
Even though my test scores were extremely strong, I did not get initially placed into the Honors classes. Before I went up the hill, my 6th grade teacher told me he had recommended it, but that the jr. high school thought it would be better for me to stay in the lower classes instead. Basically he was apologizing. He had tried, he said. I didn't know what to make of it. I knew I was smart, and at that point I thought I was rich. Why wouldn't I be put in the hardest classes?
Then I got there. Thankfully the math teacher moved me (and two of my best friends) to the higher class in less than a week. It took them a month to move me into the more advanced English class. Basically, they placed me in lower classes than they should of just because I was poor. Nice.
I can go on and on, but this is already long. Suffice it to say that by the time I was 15 I knew the following:
-no matter how bad I have it, there are people who have it worse.
-rich people are not smarter than poor people; they just think they are.
-if you are poor (or look poor), people really do assume you are stupid.
-the circumstances you are born into mean more to your success in life than most people are willing to admit.
-social programs that help children below the poverty line (free lunch, head start, big brothers and sister, etc.) are absolutely critical and must be maintained.
-you don't need much to get by and have a good life.
-when you get a good job, you better save most of that money, because you never know when you'll get a job that good again.
-education is worth more than gold.
