Very interesting. High school kids and teacher.

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A 17-year-old tried to humiliate me yesterday. He did it in front of a full classroom of his peers.

We were in the middle of a seminar on The Grapes of Wrath, discussing the dignity of the working class and the gap between the haves and the have-nots. The energy in the room was great until a student in the front row—let’s call him Tyler—interrupted me.

"Ms. Holloway... that’s an interesting blazer," he said, his voice dripping with a performative curiosity. "What brand is that? Is it a high-end label?"

The room went dead silent. Thirty pairs of eyes moved from his designer sneakers to my vintage tweed jacket. I could see the smug look on his face; he knew exactly what he was doing.

I didn't blink. I just smiled. "Thank you for noticing, Tyler. Actually, I picked it up at the Salvation Army on Saturday. It cost me four dollars."

The silence shattered. A few students snickered. One girl in the second row made a face and whispered, "Used clothes? That’s kind of gross."

Tyler leaned back, looking satisfied. "Yeah, I don’t think I could ever do the 'hand-me-down' thing. I prefer my clothes new."

I realized then that the lesson on Steinbeck was over, and a much more important lesson had begun. I set my notes aside and leaned against my desk.

"You know," I said, looking directly at him, "it doesn’t matter if a coat comes from a luxury department store or a dusty rack at a charity shop. Once it’s in the laundry, it meets the same soap and the same water. It serves the same purpose."

I let that sink in before continuing. "The 'status' you’re all chasing? Most of those expensive labels are stitched onto fabric made in the same factories as the generic brands. You aren't paying for better quality; you’re paying for the right to feel superior to people you think are beneath you."

I told them about the treasures I’ve found while thrifting—pure silk scarves, leather boots that outlast anything in the mall, and books with histories of their own.

As I spoke, I scanned the room. I saw the kids in their $150 hoodies looking a bit uncomfortable.

But I also saw Elena in the back, who I know carefully mends the same three sweaters she wears all winter. I saw Marcus, who never buys lunch and wears shoes that are clearly a size too small because his family is struggling to keep the lights on.

They were the ones leaning in. They were the ones who finally felt like they could breathe.

Before the bell rang, I addressed the room one last time.

"Listen to me," I said, my voice quiet but firm. "Never let me hear you mock someone for having less than you. There is zero shame in being broke. There is zero shame in wearing thrifted clothes or walking because you can't afford the bus."

I made eye contact with every single one of them.

"The only real shame in this world is believing you are a better human being simply because your parents can afford a certain logo."

I know what it’s like to be on that side of the line. I’ve lived through the months of checking my bank balance before buying a gallon of milk. I’ve known the anxiety of a "Check Engine" light when there was no money to fix it.

Those years didn't ruin me; they built me. They taught me what actually matters. They gave me a sense of gratitude that a spoiled life never could.

Your worth isn't found in a price tag. It’s found in your integrity. It’s found in how you treat people who can do absolutely nothing for you.

To the parents and mentors out there: please, teach your kids about empathy. Teach them that wealth is fleeting and character is permanent.

Life is unpredictable. Things change in an instant. And one day, that secondhand jacket might be the very thing that keeps them warm—and keeps them humble.

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Love For His People Ministry was founded in 2010 by Steve & Laurie Martin. Charlotte, NC USA