It was a test on toast. I remember it very distinctly. It was in the first grade and the teacher was testing our knowledge of the toast making process. There were four pictures and we were to put them in order; put the bread in the toaster, push the bread down, toast pops up, butter the toast.
There were two facts that made this unfair: She hadn't actually taught us about toast AND I didn't own a toaster! For whatever reason, my parents were both fry-pan toasters. Butter, fry, eat. (personally I still prefer my toast this way.) But I got the test horribly wrong and my college scholarships were in jeopardy because I wanted to butter my bread bfore putting it in the toaster.
Ever since that very traumatic experience, I've been rather sensitive to cultural biases in society and interactions. Those little things where your upbringing has really shaped the way that you think and approach life. Sometimes we automatically assume that all people should pretty much think/behave in similar ways. And sometimes it really smacks you in the face that people from different backgrounds really see the world from different perspectives.
Yesterday, as Carol and I drove through a somewhat questionable neighborhood, we both saw something lying on the side of the road.
Carol: Haha, did you see that wig on the road? Can you imagine the story behind that getting there?
Me: Oh. I thought it was a cat.
Apparently, where I grew up, cats were the roadkill. Where Carol grew up, weaves were the roadkill.
Either way, it's an uncomfortable conversation to have with the owners once you've gotten out of the car.