In Lareau’s words, the middle-class children learn a sense of “entitlement.” That word, of course, has negative connotations these days. But Lareau means it in the best sense of the term: “They acted as though they had a right to pursue their own individual preferences and to actively manage interactions in institutional settings….“

[…]

In one telling scene, Lareau describes a visit to the doctor by Alex Williams, a nine-year-old boy, and his mother, Christina. The Williamses are wealthy professionals. “Alex, you should be thinking of questions you might want to ask the doctor,” Christina says in the car on the way to the doctor’s office. “You can ask him anything you want. Don’t be shy. You can ask anything.”

Alex thinks for a minute, then says, “I have some bumps under my arms from my deodorant.” Christina: “Really? You mean from your new deodorant?” Alex: “Yes.” Christina: “Well, you should ask the doctor.” Alex’s mother, Lareau writes, “is teaching that he has the right to speak up”— that even though he’s going to be in a room with an older person and authority figure, it’s perfectly all right for him to assert himself.

They meet the doctor, a genial man in his early forties. He tells Alex that he is in the ninety-fifth percentile in height. Alex then interrupts:

ALEX: I’m in the what?
DOCTOR: It means that you’re taller than more than ninety-five out of a hundred young men when they’re, uh, ten years old.
ALEX: I’m not ten.
DOCTOR: Well, they graphed you at ten. You’re— nine years and ten months. They— they usually take the closest year to that graph.

Look at how easily Alex interrupts the doctor—“ I’m not ten.” That’s entitlement: his mother permits that casual incivility because she wants him to learn to assert himself with people in positions of authority.

[…]

This kind of interaction simply doesn’t happen with lower-class children, Lareau says. They would be quiet and submissive, with eyes turned away.