I attended first through fourth grade at a private Episcopalian school. About half of my classmates attended church with us as well, but for the most part I didn’t know the other half except from school. One day a buddy told me Candice was Jewish.
That meant nothing to me. I knew she didn’t go to church with us, and I knew she sometimes brought food that I had never seen before. But I didn’t make any connection with God’s people we read about in the Bible from time to time, and I certainly didn’t have any concept of a religious and/or ethnic identity, per se.
Most importantly (in the context of this post), it didn’t change who she was for me. She was a quiet, smart, pretty little girl with whom I attended school. I still asked my mom about it later.
“Mom, what’s ‘Jewish'”?
“Why are you asking me that?”
“Because someone said Candice was Jewish.”
“That means that Candice and her family worship God differently from the way we do. God made all kinds of people, remember?”
“Yes ma’am.”
And that was the end of it.
Kid questions about people being different are natural. Children aren’t stupid, and they’re insatiably curious. They can see that his skin is darker, her hair is different, he’s wearing a hat they’ve never seen before, or whatever, and they want to know why.
We’ve not fielded many questions of this nature at all from our boys. I credit a better world for a lot of that, but I also credit Lea and myself. We don’t sit around and talk about such things. On those rare occasions that we do get such questions, we answer them pretty much the same way my mother answered me, 30+ years ago: God made all kinds of people. That’s as far as it goes.
That’s as far as it should go.
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Ditto. That’s how we’re raising HSH. I wish everyone had that view.
Racial and/or ethnic identity is, in terms of how we all relate to one another, deeply uninteresting. Credit to my mom, because she was definitely ahead of the sociocultural curve on this.
I’m hopeful that this approach allows our boys to learn the things that are interesting about a group of people–tradition, heritage, etc.–as those things come, without picking up any of the negatives along the way.
Suspect this will get considerably more challenging when they become old enough to be news consumers and start processing the rantings of the Sharptons and Jacksons of the world, whose livelihoods depend on stoking rage that is, essentially, dead. I hope our approach equips them for that as well.
“Mom, what’s Charlie Sheen?”
Best experience of my college life was playing roomate lottery in Paty Hall and drawing a quiet African-American man from Sardis, AL. We became close to brothers and I credit him for my survival through that first year. I only hope I can pass some of that kinship to my kids and suddenly realize I have email to write to a dear friend.
The summer before Mileena started 2nd grade, she went to daycamp in Oxford. When she got the name of her second grade teacher, her counselor asked her who she’d gotten. The conversation was something like this:
“So, who’s your teacher?”
“Ms. Owen.”
“Oh, well, there are two Ms. Owens. Do you know which one?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Is your Ms. Owen African-American?”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, American, but originally from Africa.”
“No, she’s from Anniston.”
Uh-huh. And just why did you care which Ms. Owen, Marianne? Hmmmm? I think that’s a very important question that may speak to some deep-seated hatred lurking in your foul soul.
Great blog Bo. I also remember Candace and knowing she was Jewish but not really thinking too much about it. I didn’t even notice her eating different food. I know my parents thought the world of her parents and remained friends after I left EDS.
What I find ironic is that 2 kids that started their education in what most would consider an elitist environment would become such open minded adults. But I never recall an elitist attitude at EDS. I, like you, have never encouraged my children to see differences but when we do we discuss them. I feel it’s important for kids to know why people are different so they can see a different perspective of the world. It’s only when we can see someone else’s perspective that we can have compassion for their plight in life. I can never pretend to know how it feels to be that person but I can strive to understand their point of view.
Oh, that’s not really a mystery to you, is it Tonya? That’s no “irony.” We are “open-minded” because we are trying to assuage our inherent guilt from growing up white children of privilege, right? Any interest we have in human relations is arrogant and vaguely haughty. Our interest can’t possibly be sincere.
Wow I must be really feeling guilty since I just moved into house with black neighbors 10 feet away on both sides on purpose. Gasp the horror! Lol