All I had to do for the two dollars was to clean her house for a few hours after school. It was a beautiful house with things that were common in her neighborhood, absent in mine.

Working for her brought me a sense of pride, not only because I could immerse in little luxuries like movies and candy, but also because I contributed half of my earnings to my mother, ensuring they were used for necessities. I was not like the children in folk tales: burdensome mouths to feed, problems so severe that they were abandoned to the forest. I had a status that doing routine chores in my house did not provide —and it earned me a slow smile, an approving nod from an adult and confirmations that I was adult-like, not childlike.

In those days, children were not just loved or liked; they were needed. They could earn money; they could care for children younger than themselves; they could work the farm, take care of the herd, and much more. I suspect that children aren't needed in that way now. They are loved, protected and spoiled.

Little by little, I got better at cleaning her house —good enough to be given more to do. After struggling to move the piano, my limbs ached terribly. Despite wanting to decline or voice my discomfort, I feared losing my job and the independence and respect it afforded me. She began to offer me her clothes, for a price. Impressed by these worn things, which looked simply elegant to a little girl who had only two dresses to wear to school, I bought a few.

Still, I had trouble summoning up(鼓起)the courage to object to the increasing demands she made. Despite feeling overwhelmed, I hesitated to voice my concerns, knowing my mother would urge me to quit. However, one day while alone in the kitchen with my father, I expressed my disappointment. In any case, he put down his cup of coffee and said, "Get your money. Whatever the work is, do it well —not for the boss but for yourself. You make the job; it doesn't make you. You are not the work you do; you are the person you are.

I have worked for all sorts of people since then, geniuses and fools, quick-witted and dull, big-hearted and narrow. I've had many kinds of jobs, but since that conversation with my father, I have never considered the level of labor to be the measure of myself, and I have never placed the security of a job above my self-worth and family value.