From the Mouths of Babes: Preschool Perspectives on Human Difference

Scene 1
Among the pile of books four-year-old Claire plops down next to me is a picture book called "Goin' Someplace Special." She asks me to read it whenever she comes over, though her interest in the book has perplexed me. The illustrations are beautiful and compelling, but the storyline seemed beyond the maturity of a pre-schooler. It's about the injustice and humiliation of segregation faced by an African American girl on her way to the library in Nashville in the 1950s. Each time I turn the page, the main character is rejected, snubbed, or sent to the back of the bus. Each time, my niece, Claire, asks incredulously, "Why?" "But why?" "Why?" When I tell her it was because of the color of her skin, she responds indignantly,"That is selfish."

Scene 2
I am babysitting two children from the Marshall Islands. The three-year-old boy doesn't speak any English. We are at my cousin's home where her two, red-headed daughters cheerfully try to make friends with these unexpected visitors. At first, the children stick to themselves. Watching from the sidelines, I sense the awkwardness and wonder what will happen. After about an hour of mingling in the same space, but not much with one another, they gradually become more comfortable.

Three-year-old Evelyn introduces CJ (the three-year-old Marshallese boy) to the wonders of a recliner. As he pushes the magical stick on the side of chair, the foot rest flies out and the back of the chair reclines. He squeals with delight. Back and forth, they take turns sitting on the chair, flying forwards and backwards as the other one pulls the magic stick. Soon the two barefooted children are sitting together on the recliner. CJ chatters something important to Evelyn in Marshallese. She responds in English, her nose wrinkled up as if to say, "I'm not sure what you're talking about, but go ahead and keep talking." Their mutually unintelligible conversation continues for a few minutes. Then, out-of-the-blue, Evelyn carefully lines up her left foot with CJ's right foot. With the air of a very important proclamation, she announces,"Our feet our the same size!" And with that fact established, they carry on with their game.

________

Grown-ups tend to struggle with folks who are different. Little people, on the other hand, have a few things they could teach us on the subject. What we make so complicated, maybe really isn't. As Claire understood, when we reject, push back, avoid, or persecute difference, we are being selfish. Expecting other people to conform to an image of ourselves (or wishing they did) is self-centered in the extreme. Like Evelyn and CJ showed us, the discomfort of difference can be overcome if we just keep rubbing shoulders till we find common ground. Even if we don't understand each other, we'll all be better off if we simply keep talking. It is under these circumstances that precious points of connection rise to the surface -- shared interests, desires, questions, experiences -- and maybe, if you're really lucky, matching feet.

Like sand through my fingers . . .

The post resurrecting a long abandoned blog often begins with an apology for not writing. My excuse rests with the wise words of my aunt, "I can either live my life or document it. I can't do both!" Since Busyness has had a chokehold on my life the past few years, I thought I simply didn't have the time or energy to write about it. But lately I've realized that without writing my life -- at least some of it -- the precious day-to-day lessons, joys, frustrations, miracles, and failures are lost, escaping like sand through my fingers. I used to think journaling was ultimately a way of preserving a life for your posterity. Now I think it's about preserving a life for me.