Robert Frost [1916] And that made all the difference. Over the years, I have often reflected upon Robert Frost's poem. Choosing not to listen to my highly educated dad's advice and attitude about money was a painful deci- sion, but it was a decision that shaped the rest of my life. Once I made up my mind whom to listen to, my edu- cation about money began. My rich dad taught me over a period of 30 years, until I was age 39. He stopped once he realized that I knew and fully understood what he had been trying to drum into my often thick skull. Money is one form orpower. But what is more power- ful is financial education. Money comes and goes, but if you have the education about how money works, you gain power over it and can begin building wealth. The reason positive thinking alone does not work is because most people went to school and never learned how money works, jo they spend their lives working for money. Because I was only 9 years old when I started, the lessons my rich dad taught me were simple. And when it was all said and done, there were only six main jessons, repeated over 30 years. This book is about those six lessons, put as simply as possible as my rich dad put forth those lessons to me. The lessons are not meant to be an- swers but guideposts. Guideposts that will assist you and your children to grow wealthier no matter what happens in a world of increasing change and uncertainty. CHAPTER TWO Lesson One: The Rich Don t Work for Money Dad, Can You Tell Me How to Get Rich?" My dad put down the evening paper. "Why do you want to get rich, son?" "Because today Jimmy's mom drove up in their new Cadillac, and they were going to their beach house for the weekend. He took three of his friends, but Mike and I weren't invited. They told us we weren't invited because we were 'poor kids.'" "They did?" my dad asked incredulously. "Yeah, they did." I replied in a hurt tone. My dad silently shook his head, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and went back to reading the paper. I stood waiting for an answer. The year was 1956. I was 9 years old. By some twist of fate, I attended the same public school where the rich peo- ple sent their kids. We were primarily a sugar plantation town. The managers of the plantation and the other afflu- ent people of the town, such as doctors, business owners, and bankers, sent their children to this school, grades 1 to 6. After grade 6, their children were generally sent off to private schools. Because my family lived on one side of the street, I went to this school. Had I lived on the other side of the street, I would have gone to a different school, with kids from families more like mine. After grade 6, these kids and I would go on to the public intermediate and high school. There was no private school for them or for me. My dad finally put down the paper. I could tell he was thinking. "Well, son," he began slowly. "If you want to be rich, you have to learn to make money.