Sitting in my first grade classroom when the bell rings so loudly to alert all children that it is finally the best time of the day, it is recess. I stand up so fast while kicking the heels off my indoor shoes to make getting into my outside shoes faster. I whip to my cubby where my bag is and grab the package of Scooby-Doo gummies that my mom had packed specifically for me. I head out to the yard and see the swings, I see the sandbox and the play structure. The air is blowing, but it is warm. It feels so refreshing to take a deep breath of fresh air. I reach into my pocket and grab my gummies while heading to the trash can. I carefully tear off the top of my gummies, smelling that lovely artificial smell. Trying to hide my snack, walking with my back to my friends. I start to hear the gravel crumbling like there are children walking towards me. I turn around to see two boys from my class. I look down at their hands held out in a bowl shape. “Can I have one?” I look down to my half pack of gummies, and do not want to share. “My mom packed these for me, not you, sorry.” I say to the boy on the left. “Please, we just want one each.” the boy on the right says to me. They do this everyday so I do not want to give in. I tell them “You need to bring your own snack.” The boy on the right immediately turned from pleading to angry shouting at me “What am I supposed to bring?? A tomato?” and they both stormed off. Both of these boys are Indigenous.
After this day in first grade, It made me realize that they came to me because they did not have the same home life I did and that they recognized it. To this day, I remember this was a turning point for my understanding of lower and middle class families. With the boy’s final comment, It clicked in my little first grader mind that he came to me for food not because he just wanted my treat but because that would probably be one of his only opportunities to have a treat. This was the point in my life where I started to recognize differences in skin colours, family dynamics, and what the poverty line is.
2 Comments
Megan Sharp
Hi Christa!
Again, like your last story, I absolutely love how you describe things. It doesn’t feel like TOO much detail, but it’s enough to almost feel like you’re watching a movie. I can picture myself in your shoes. The detail is just amazing!
But I think the meaning of your story is really eye opening. As kids, it’s difficult to consider lives outside of our own homes to no fault of our own, we just aren’t aware yet. I also think it’s super interesting how most of our experiences where we distinctly remember learning such big concepts happen when we’re so young. Young minds can absorb so much and can stick with us for the rest our lives which I think is a great thing, and is probably an underlying factor of why we decided to become educators. If there is anything I wish there was more of, maybe the feeling you experienced once you came to the realization of the differences of skin colours, etc. However you still did a great job explaining how it was such a turning point in your life so that’s just me grasping at straws!! Really great read and I can’t wait for the next one 🙂
laikyn schmalz
hey christa!
this is a cool story and i love that you remember it from first grade! Your story has some great details that i love such as the smells from the gummies and the description of the warm air on your face when you were out for recess. It made me think of my experiences of the summer recesses when I was in grade 1. I initially, as even a third year university student began thinking “those boys… always wanting and taking food, I remember that happening to me too when I was in elementary school”. But when you explain that these boys are indigenous and that they come from a different families with different classes, it makes complete sense as to exactly why these boys so desperately wanted that small treasure that we as more priviliged members of society take for granted sometimes. Its crazy to think that at such a young age we can remember these experiences and in those moments we truly do not know the greater meaning behind them, yet now that we know more and are older and wiser, we can look back and be able acknowledge and understand the behaviors of others regarding their race, ethnicity or religion. The one critical comment i will give is just that i wanted more of the story after the fact, what were you feeling after they became aggressive? where did the boys go? did you finish your gummies?
Other then that I really enjoyed reading your story and I think it was a great connection 🙂