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Jewell Georgia is a tiny place, on Highway 16, on the fault line, east of Atlanta and runs clean through the Ogeechee River. In Jewell, my mother and I lived with my grandparents along with my auntie, and uncle. My grandfather built a house that seemed to always need fixing. When it rained, the water would run through our living room. When I heard thunder, I knew to run and get the buckets. He would always promise that he would fix it, but 15 years later my cousins are the ones to get the buckets. Another thing that was wrong with the house was central heat and air. It was non-existent. In hindsight, I realize that the heat never really bothered me. We would all sit together in front of one air …show more content…
Something that I have grown to admire about her. She was never afraid of animals or of hard work. In “Dancing Skeleton’s”, Dettwyler writes about a conversation she had while visiting a village. “Yes, your hands are not like the hands of a Malian. Your hands are soft. They don’t have any rough spots or calluses because you don 't have to to do any hard work”. My mother emphasized her disdain for working on the dairy farm (my family owned a farm from 1970-1988). Which is why she put a great importance on education. She describes education as the ticket out of poverty. In Education in the Rural South:Policy Issues and Research Needs, Mulkey writes: “ a number of sources stress the importance of an educated, skilled workforce to the future of the South and call for increased development of the region’s human capital”(Mulkey,1). Similar to the Malians, my grandmother talked about my soft hands. Hand that never had to do hard labor. Living in a mostly rural area. My grandmother was accustomed to hard labor jobs. As a teenager she picked cotton for money. She was not afforded the privileges of the average American to have a career rather than a job. Attending a school in a poor community gave her little room to create a “successful” career by the U.S standards. Both of my grandparents still work despite being over 70 years old. The community where both of my grandparents attended was Hancock County. This became the community where I spent most of my time, since my church was located there. When I was younger, I felt like an outsider at church. For one, majority of the people grew up together and were family. I only lived ten minutes away, but we lived totally different lives. Even though my church family or kinship created a new environment to build relationships, I still felt as an outsider. Second, I never understood why the kids at church could not read. My first realization that the kids at my church could not read was