Today I went on a field trip with my daughter’s culturally diverse Pre-Kindergarten Class. These babies are 4-5 years old and of very different backgrounds. BUT, they all have one thing in common. They are all human.
In other words, there are Asian, Indian, Hispanic, Black, White..you get the idea. When I selected the school, there were two others that I visited. All three were top ranked schools in our town. Two of them were private Christian schools and very pricey. Mini-me’s was a cheaper public school.
My first visit to School A, I didn’t actually go in. I drove up and walked around the school grounds. Saw lots of the same types of children. A mom came up to me as I was watching the children play on the playground…and well, let’s just say, she was nice…a little too nice.
School B just got a phone call. It was the school that my co-worker’s children attended, so I thought I’d give it a shot. I was inquiring as to class size/ratio and when I could visit. She asked me about our religious beliefs. Fair question, I guess. It is a Christian school. She then confirmed, over the phone, that my child was White. She literally asked me if my child was White. Who does that?? I didn’t have the heart or the gumption to tell my co-worker the real reason I didn’t put Mini-me there.
So, School C, the cheapest of all…a mile from my office…got a visit from me during their lunch time. I didn’t knock. I didn’t call first. I just showed up. They were cooking and serving the children. The place smelled like you always hope your house will when company comes unexpectedly…cleaning products and food! 🙂 The children were eating a well-balanced meal and enjoying themselves. The teachers all have college degrees and frankly, encouraged me to explore the classrooms. That was the school I chose. I didn’t mind that the majority of the children weren’t white. In fact, there wasn’t a white teacher to be found. I guess that’s where I’m different.
I encourage my child to treat each person she meets as a human being first. We are all the same on the inside. It doesn’t matter what color the apple is…it’s still an apple. Brown “yard egg” or bleached white eggs from Publix…Both have a yellow yolk and clear egg whites on the inside. With me so far? I base my opinions of people on their actions and temperament. Treat me badly? I turn the other cheek. Take advantage of me? Lesson learned, I move on. Hurt me? I won’t give you another opportunity.
So, today, I went with her class to the Pumpkin Patch. Yes, Mini-me was the only “white” child there with the group. There were Asian children, Indian children, and Hispanic children. But Mini-me was the only dirty blonde, fair skinned baby girl running around the place. And she could care less. She honestly doesn’t see color. I’m glad of that. Really.
I took this picture of her and her two BFF’s and posted it on my Facebook page. I also took a class photo showing the entire class and uploaded that as well. 
Immediately after posting, I get a text message from a family member, “Is Mini-me the only white kid in her class?” I text back the honest-to-God’s truth. “No.” Then I get a private message from another family member, “Why is Mini-me the only white kid in her class? Where do you have her going to school?” Then a phone call, “Why is my grandchild the only white baby in that picture? Is this how you want her educated?”
Although I do have patience and tolerance, these qualities are terribly difficult for me to maintain when I’m dealing with family members. So, as I warned you before, this is my ranting place…where I am free to say what I feel…Here we go!
Yes Mother, this is how I want to raise my Mini-me. I want her to be exposed to different types of people, places, and cultures. I want her to learn tolerance, patience, acceptance, and love NOW at four years old, not be a bitter 49 year old consumed with hate for others she doesn’t even know. I don’t want her to judge someone based on how they look, where they’re from, or how much money their parents make. You love people because of what’s inside them..their hearts, minds, and souls.
Her school is teaching her all sorts of things. Would she have learned these things in a different environment? Maybe. Can she count to 100? Yes. Can she write her name and read? Yes. Can she recite some Spanish (that I don’t even know)? Yes. Is she coming out of her shell and dancing/singing in public? Yes.
Those are the important things to me. Not how many other white children she is around all day. Not what my family or co-workers think about Mini-me being a white speck in a photo. The bigger picture here is that she grows to be an intelligent, compassionate, strong woman…no matter the color of the people that help her get there.
Diary of a Dirty Domestic Goddess 