At pick-up time today, PP’s teacher told me a little story about PP. She said when they learned about Dr. Martin Luther King last week, she used brown eggs and white eggs to visually illustrate the concept of race — white and brown/black skin colors. During the discussion in class, PP raised his hand and told the teacher that the white egg is Vietnamese and the brown is for Somalia, the country where O came from. He also said to his classmates that love brings people of different skin colors together, just like how his parents fell in love and have him. His teacher told me that he was so articulated and then thanked me for teaching him well. She said, He was like an expert on the topic of discussion that day.
I guess we must have done the right thing to talk openly about all these topics at home. I mean, with an interracial marriage and a multicultural household, it’s a normal thing to have in our daily conversations. I am glad that PP has not only observed and being aware but is also comfortable to voice his knowledge of a topic so close to home.
But here is the funny part, when we came home I jokingly asked him whether he is Vietnamese or Somali. Do you know what he said?
I am neither, because I am Bostonese!
He is so diplomatic.
I guessed he is right about that. One must claim the locality of his birthplace as part of his identity.