Today I visited my daughter Claire’s class to capitalize on yesterday’s, uh, eventful experience.
When I arrived this time, all the kids very calmly said, “Hi, Claire’s dad!” It was pretty clear the teacher had spoken to them after I left yesterday. As we gathered on the carpet, I confirmed this theory by asking them, “So, did you guys talk about me after I left yesterday?” I’m super subversive. They told me that they had all talked about how some people are born with one leg or NO legs or they can’t hear or see, things like that. At one point as we were identifying differences people might have, this little boy shouted, “MY BROTHER IS SEVEN!” “That IS different!” I said, trying not to laugh. He was so earnest and I loved that he identified a difference in his own family. The teacher asked if they remembered what she said about how we should react and this little boy says, “We’re not supposed to say things about other peoples’ dads.” Not quite what she was going for, but it made me laugh. I was overjoyed to hear that she had taken the initiative to talk to her students about the situation and teach them about accepting others.
They had some great questions for me, too, all of them revolving around the same theme: How do you…with one hand? Most of them didn’t even ask specifics, they just wondered how I did ANYTHING at all. I told them that I figure out how to do things just like they do. For instance, I brought a container with two racquet balls in it, so I showed them how I hold it to open it and then took the balls out. “Do you think I can juggle these?” I asked. “YES!” shouted Claire. She was excited about this part all morning. So, I juggled for them and they clapped as their jaws dropped. Pretty amazing stuff.