Celebrating President's day

Wednesday morning came and I walked out of the house with both kids in tow. I got to school and the lesson began. On Wednesdays we do social studies, today we talked about President’s day.

On our little newspaper the proud picture of Abe Lincoln and George Washington looked solemnly at the kids while Mrs. First Grade went over why they were so memorable.

She asked if everyone knew why Washington was popular and a flurry of little hands went into the air ready with the answer. Then she asked why Abe Lincoln was a memorable president and less hands shot into the air and it was mainly suggested that he may have been another “cool-number” president. We established that while sixteen wasn’t a very cool number, we remembered Lincoln because of what he did, not because of his place on the presidents list.

I looked around uncomfortably and wondered how she was going to explain slavery to a room-full of first graders. Thank God for Mrs. First Grade.

She explained that back in the times of Lincoln they did not have the machines that we have now. That in order for food to be grown and buildings to be built, they needed a lot of people to do the jobs of the machines. She explained that back then some people were brought to the states in order to work in those projects and that they were known as slaves. She told the kids that Mr. Lincoln did not agree with the way the workers of those fields and projects were treated because he believed in the constitution and that he thought EVERYONE was created equal.

I thought she had done fantastically; she had told the kids everything and yet not caused any ripples or questions in their little minds. I congratulated her mentally and admired her style in diplomatically explaining one of the lowest moments in humanity.

Everyone was listening to her talk and you could see that they were listening but that this information did not touch them personally. In an environment where you cannot offend nor defend any position, such as in a school, it is difficult to tip-toe the line.

Considering that we had safely avoided the whole slavery situation I started walking towards the work table to hand out the assignments. As I make my way through the classroom, Mrs. First Grade tells the class, “You know, if it wouldn’t have been for Abe Lincoln, President Obama would never have made it to the White House”

Screeeecchhh!!!! Oh Boy! I thought we were going to leave it alone!

By presenting them with something so relevant, they were forced to think about it and to make the information personal. Well, not many of them said much. I was thanking all the little angels that had helped us avoid that whole conversation, when Mrs. First Grade said, “As a matter of fact boys and girls, if it wasn’t for Abe Lincoln, some of our friends in this class would not be allowed to be here with us.”

Now she had done it.

All of their little faces lit up in attention and she had them all. Even the ones that normally count the tiles on the ceiling were totally focused on her. I could not believe she had brought herself into this conversation, on purpose.

All of my internal bells were going off. This is a danger zone. The chances that you may offend or become politically incorrect are so great; we just avoid the whole field.

Mrs. First Grade had jumped in with both feet.

Unbelievably enough as Mrs. First Grade explained slavery and racism to a room full of six and seven-year-olds, you could see the confusion in their faces, you could see that they could not understand the concept of what she was explaining.

Mrs. First Grade asked everyone to look around and notice the different shades that we all were. There were some African Americans, some Hispanics and the rest were Caucasians. She then asked them to imagine that some of their friends would not be able to join us in the classroom. Everyone looked around, everyone looked at those of us who were darker and one of the little girls shot up her hand and said, “Mrs. First Grader that would hurt our friends’ feelings!!!” Everyone else started saying the same.

My eyes filled with tears, these children do not recognize the basis for racism. They see nothing different in you and me, in the color of our skin, in the accent in our voices. They have been brought up in a world where those differences no longer exist. Racism continues to live in the hearts of the older generations who have been jaded and teach our children to watch out for the man, therefore perpetuating the existence of our greatest foe. Racism is learned.
In the heart of these six year olds, the world is wide and inclusive, it is vast and loving and full of friends. They do not see differences, they see only people….

The bell rings and they get ready to go home. They have completed another day of school, off they go and as they walk away, they say “Bye Mrs. Garlo” and I get 28 hugs good bye. Love is color blind.