Smart Chick

Hannah is getting used to school again. It's a little difficult. Organization is not her strong suit (not that I'm a great role model for her. My room looks like a yarn store exploded.) But she's starting to make friends, and she is getting her homework (mostly) done. Still, there's a few things she's getting used to. There are cliques that we never had to deal with before that seem to have sprung up in fourth grade. She's not always the most socially adept--she speaks her mind too freely for everyone's comfort sometimes.

A friend of Hannah's stopped by the other day. She just got a rocking cool haircut. Kind of punk. Kind of retro. She's eleven and if this is how she wants to express herself, good for her.

"I didn't recognize her!" Hannah said laughing at the memory and rolling her eyes at her inability to recognize someone who she has known for years. "Then she walked up to me and gave me a hug at recess. Who else would do that? That's how I recognized her. It's a really cool haircut."

Her friend's face fell. "I really needed a hug. I got called two really bad names today. Someone called me Lesbo, and someone else called me Faggot."

Hannah looked confused. "What does that mean?"

Her friend shook her head. "You don't want to know."

"They're mean names for people who are gay," I explained to Hannah who needs answers for things. Half answers don't work for her mind. She'll keep asking questions until she gets to the bottom of things.

This was still not a good explanation for Hannah. "But...what's wrong with people?" she asked looking confused. "Why would they try to make you feel bad that way? It's not like there's something wrong with being gay. Why would people use mean names to talk about nice people?"

Hannah was leafing through her math book as she recalled her summer. "I mean, my Auntie Becky has a girlfriend, and they're really nice. And there's Rosie and Michelle. They're cool too. And Cassidy's Moms. What are their names again, Mom, I can't remember." Suddenly the subject changed. "Hey, Did you use this math book last year?"

"Yeah, I know that math book!" her friend said, relaxing finally. "You know, next year, you'll do your math all differently."

"Great," Hannah griped. "I'm just getting used to it this way...."

I know that the kids at school have to go through anti-bullying classes. But I think that Hannah took away a lot of the power of these bullies just through her incomprehension of their mean-spirited attempt to belittle someone. Her normal is much more inclusive and understanding and kind and open than many other kids that she is exposed to...

...and I'm proud of that. I'm proud of her. She's a smart little chick(en.)

 

Hannah's favorite t-shirt. Mine too. She looks a lot like the chicken on the front
Her nickname is Chicken.

Learning to Debate, and the Invincible Dilema

"I don't understand why. You said that if you get a cut on your head, it bleeds a lot, right?" Hannah asked.
"Yes," I replied, recalling bringing Caleb to the hospital when he cut his head, my own stitches as a child, other head wounds I've seen.
"Well, why don't we have scales or something to make our heads not bleed so much. Why did we develop this way?"
"I don't know. Humans are an imperfect design."
Hannah sighed. "If I designed people, heads would be better."
"If I designed people, we'd be invincible," Caleb informed us, supremely confident in his assessment of what would solve all of our head-bleeding problems.
"That wouldn't be fun," Hannah opined. "If we were invincible...where would the conflicts be? Conflicts make life interesting."
"Sometimes...." I began.
"I don't mean wars," she said, obviously sensing "mom lecture mode" coming on. "I mean like if you were invincible, you wouldn't be afraid of car accidents or plane crashes, or anything so you'd never have conflict."
"I can see that," I admitted.
Caleb sounded hurt when he said, "Well, I guess I won't say anything else, since you both agree. Invincibility is bad I guess."
"No," I disagreed. "I never said that. Now you tell me what is so great about being invincible."
"Oh." Caleb warmed to his subject quickly. "You could do anything, you wouldn't worry about dying."
Hannah interrupted. "Then we'd have overpopulation," she said primly.
"Hannah, let Caleb have his turn," I said sternly. "Go on, Cay."
"No, people would die," he informed us. "But only of old age. Not from being sick, or accidents. We could climb mountains and not worry about falling off. We could survive crashes and we could do things that we don't do because we're afraid."
"Well, if I knew I wouldn't die from a fall, I might actually take up mountain climbing."
The kids laughed. They know I fear heights like nothing else.
"But if there's no danger, there's no conflict," Hannah said after a minute. "That wouldn't be interesting. You couldn't tell stories. Everyone would be the same. There wouldn't be any heroes."
"But people wouldn't die too young," Caleb countered. "You wouldn't need heroes. Everyone would be doing interesting things."
"Then no one would want to hear about it," Hannah stated. "Like a two year old could climb Mount Everest. It's just not interesting anymore."
Caleb laughed. "Or a grandma could jump out of planes."
"Not interesting."
"But safe. People could live longer."

I could see the points both were making.

I wonder if the presidential debates will be this interesting...or this civil.