When Mom tries to enroll the children at Welch Elementary, the Appalachian dialect in which the school’s principal speaks proves to be an obstacle:
The principal looked at Brian and me, with our unwashed hair and our thin desert clothes. His face took on a sour, skeptical expression. He focused on me, pushed his glasses up his nose, and said something that sounded like “Wuts et tahm sebm?”
“Excuse me?” I said.
“Et tahm sebm!” he said louder.
I was completely bewildered. I looked at Mom.
“She doesn’t understand your accent,” Mom told the principal. He frowned.
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