Dr. Martin Luther King Jr

My daughter is a sponge, just like most 5 year olds are. She blurts out snippets of what she learns at school all the time, and it's so cool to hear. Last week she caught me by surprise with her little snippet. She started to tell me that black people used to not be able to go to the movies. Using the tools she'd learned, and working hard to recall all the facts, she basically started to tell me about segregation, and that Martin Luther King Jr. had died.

Death is a common theme for her these past few months, whereas she mentions that dinosaurs died, her great grandma died, you get the idea. So the fact that she mentioned that Dr. King died wasn't too big a surprise to me. What got me, though, was that she was sharing with me this snippet from something they'd talked about at school, and it was more than just letters, sight words, and the week's theme. This was the first time she'd talked, with me, about history. How cool, and to me, what a milestone.

I was really impressed at her ability to work through what she was remembering about whatever the discussion was at school. She remembered "King", but not his full name. She knew clearly that there used to be two bathrooms, water fountains, and movie theatres. She expressed clearly that "that's not nice". At this point, she looked to me for some more clarification or at least discussion about the subject, and I don't know that I was fully ready!

See, in August we went to the Illinois State Fair in Springfield, IL. While in Springfield, the State capital, we visited the Abraham Lincoln Memorial Museum. We knew it would be over the kids' heads, but, Dave and I were really anxious to see the museum, and tried to time the visit so that the kids wouldn't be near, or at, meltdown stages at any time during the tour. In the end, it was a great museum, and the exhibits are vibrant and interesting, with some interactive things for all of us to enjoy. The kids liked the exhibit of Mrs. Lincoln's gowns, the cabin Abraham grew up in, and there were some nice spaces where we could let the kids out of their strollers without worry of losing them or having to constantly remind them not to touch stuff. They're good about that kind of thing anyway, but I digress.

In the Lincoln museum, there is an exhibit which depicts a slave trade. A (black) family of three (mother, father, young son) are being torn apart by two slave traders. The mother and father are being held apart by the traders, the son (probably no older than 4) is between them, crying, helpless, and scared. The exhibit has sound, too, reenacting the scene as it likely would have happened in the day. At the time, Ethel was confused and asked a lot of questions about why the little boy was sad. I tried my best to explain to her, in basic terms, what slavery was, and what was happening in the scene before us. The exhibit, like everything else in the museum, is alive with colour and sound, and these life sized figures couldn't have appeared more real. Very impactful, very emotional. She continued to ask why they were selling the daddy, if they were hurting him, and if the little boy was still with his mommy. Her questions ceased by the time we left the museum, and I don't recall that she mentioned that particular exhibit after our trip.

So, here we are and she's now telling me about segregation. She has a classmate and friend that is black, and she told me that she and her friend, C, wouldn't be able to go to the same bathroom, and Dr. King helped the black people use the same bathroom as the white people. Continuing with my factual answers, I confirmed for her that whites and blacks did not get to use the same things, or do things together, at the time of Dr. King. I told her that Dr. King helped many people, and changed the minds and lives of people all over.

I don't know why this struck me like it did, but it did. This was the first time I'd had a conversation with her about such a serious topic. On top of that, she was the one who brought it up, and she remembered so much from what she heard at school! We've focused so much on letters, writing, and beginning to try to read, it was really cool to talk to her about something outside our norm. My little girl is growing up. She's learning about the world around her, and not just today, but, about the past, about history.

I'm slowly being forced to realize that my baby isn't a baby any more. She's growing, learning, and soon will be smarter than I, or at least in her own mind. She is learning about topics in life much earlier than I ever did, even the ABC's. Her world is expanding so fast, and she's an active participant in that world. I only recently got over the fact that she's walking and talking, and now she's going to try to have real conversations with me? Sigh. I guess that means I'm really a mom. Just don't try to tell me that it means I'm an adult, or that I'm growing up. I don't think I'm ready for that reality yet.