ABSTRACT
All through my elementary school life, I lived in constant terror of one question—what is my place in the class? Do I come first, second, third, fourth, fifth, or last? The answer to that question, from year to year, helped everyone I knew determine my worth. My elementary school had a ceremonious way of putting students in their places. The teachers gave out star stickers as rewards for the three acceptable scores on monthly class tests—a gold star for 100%, a silver star for 90%, and a red star for 80%. Anything below 80% deserved no stars, only shame. This practice of rewarding test performance turned innocent stickers into totems of social class distinction. It was as if the students with the most golden of stars were the upper class, the ones with silver-coloured stars the middle class, the red stars the lowest of classes, and the starless had no class. I got silver and red stars most of the time, and so was firmly placed in the lower middle class. What is more, the students who got golden stars were not merely the best students, but they were also considered to be the best people. Growing up, the stars had quite an adverse effect on me and on many of my classmates. This system of placement or ranking in the class and the way it made us feel formed the foundation on which we constructed our self-image and our future.
