You wrote your answers triumphantly--and you received a low rating, and there was no appeal.
I used to stand in the doorway of my father's store, munching an apple that did not taste good any more, and watch the pupils going home from school in twos and threes; the girls in neat brown dresses and black aprons and little stiff hats, the boys in trim uniforms with many buttons.

They had ever so many books in the satchels on their backs.
They would take them out at home, and read and write, and learn all sorts of interesting things.

They looked to me like beings from another world than mine.

But those whom I envied had their own troubles, as I often heard.

Their school life was one struggle against injustice from instructors, spiteful treatment from fellow students, and insults from everybody.