Fish & Chips: Kindergarten equality

During this familiar morning walk, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I might be the only woman for blocks with my head uncovered. As my iPod pumps tunes into my headphones, a veiled Muslim woman on the opposite side of the road walks the same direction as me. She is pushing one child in a stroller. Another bounces around her knees, chasing pigeons on the sidewalk. Soon, we both reach a colorful building with a sign reading “Berridge Infant School” in both English and Arabic. She delivers her bouncy preschooler for the day. I sign in as a volunteer and duck behind a tall green curtain into a cramped, carpeted classroom. The faces of 30 six-year-old students glance at me. Some give a jolt, wave and enthusiastically whisper “Hi, Miss Emily!” as they sit cross-legged on the floor with identical posture, facing their teacher.

I’ve been volunteering at Berridge nearly six hours each week since October, shushing them during the lessons, leading activities in small groups, reading with them individually and playing games. But the students at Berridge all differ from my own elementary school classmates. With immigrant parents from places like Pakistan, India and Poland, most of the children are Muslim, some have parents who do not speak English and very few are Caucasian. During a religious education lesson in November, Miss McShane was able to illustrate how people of different religions can get along by pointing out the religious diversity of their class.

Miss McShane explained the Reformation in six-year-old terms. “Here, today, we all get along even though we have different religions. Rahil is Muslim; Eisha is Sikh; Hasna is Hindu; Piotrik is Christian...”

One confused girl quickly shouted out, “No, Piotrik is Polish!” earning chuckles from a few teachers and another explanation about the difference between nationality and religion.

Since I grew up in a school where “religious diversity” meant Lutherans, Methodists and Catholics, I found it interesting that children with such a wide range of religions can quickly forget their differences. Once, as I colored with a table full of girls, they started asking me about my American boyfriend. I quickly informed them that I didn’t have a boyfriend back home and that I hadn’t been to America for five months. They had trouble grasping this concept, so I teased them by asking them if they had American boyfriends. Most of them got the joke and giggled at the thought, but one girl told us all with a bit of attitude, “I can’t have a boyfriend because I’m Muslim.” Her pride showed in her face, and the other girls shrugged off this difference and carried on coloring. Though a difference had been exposed, it’s a minor difference at their age as none of them are really in the market for a boyfriend.

I figure I just add an extra level of diversity to their classroom. My differences, too, have been accepted with only curiosity, and the kids have finally stopped asking me why I talk so strangely or if I talked this way when I was a baby. Plus, I’ve learned to avoid sniggers by asking them if they want a “bah-nah-nah” instead of “banana” at snack time.