When we are out walking with our four-year-old son, we sometimes encounter an older gentleman in the area. He hasn’t done anything specific that would be cause for alerting authorities, but he gives us a very bad feeling.

The first time we noticed him was when our son was not yet walking but aware of the world around him. The man came up as he was walking in the opposite direction.

Man: “Oh, what a cute little boy! You are so cute!”

At first, we didn’t think much of it other than being a bit awkward as we aren’t very socially outward. But the man kept mentioning our son’s cuteness, to our son, without ever looking in our direction. I tried to think positively, that it was my social difficulties that made a bad feeling about this man grow, and I tried to calm down and smile. However, once I noticed that my son looked terrified, we firmly walked away.

This kept happening. We avoided eye contact and didn’t slow down our walk, yet the man always took whatever seconds he managed to get to talk to our son, even to the point where my husband told him to stop. He didn’t; it was as if we didn’t exist. He never followed us or anything; it was only that creepy behaviour when we happened to walk past each other.

Since then, our son has forgotten his first fright of the man, but he does notice that we don’t like to linger when approached by that man specifically. On an unrelated note, but relevant to the story, this man was not of Scandinavian ethnicity looks-wise.

One day, my son came home from kindergarten.

Son: “Mom, we are bad people.”

Me: “Really? Why?”

Son: “It is bad to avoid someone with darker skin.”

At first, I wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but once I understood he meant that man, I explained to him that, yes, you shouldn’t avoid people because they have darker skin, but that we avoided him because he had scared him when he was little and given Mommy and Daddy bad feelings about it. Since we have friends of different ethnicities, even family members, he seemed to understand that we only avoided that man, not dark-skinned people in general.

Of course, we used much simpler terms, but I tried to explain the difference between avoiding someone with dark skin and avoiding someone BECAUSE they have dark skin.

Later, there was a reminder to all parents sent from kindergarten about their policy that they didn’t accept any discrimination of any kind, among some other policies they mentioned. We did not think much of it until we had a meeting with one of the teachers.

Teacher: “I must say, I am worried about what your son is learning. He has told us that you avoid dark-skinned people because they give us bad feelings.”

Husband: “What? That’s not true!”

Teacher: “Look. I need to remind you that we do not accept discrimination here. Your son has several friends of different ethnicities, and that is a good thing.”

Me: “Is this about that man? My son thought we avoided a man because he had dark skin. Did he get that from kindergarten?”

Teacher: “We teach the children not to discriminate…”

Me: “And so do we.”

Teacher: “Then why are you teaching him to avoid a person with dark skin?”

Me: “We avoid that man because he scared our son on several occasions when he was younger and doesn’t listen when we tell him off.”

Husband: “Why would he think it is because of his skin? I don’t even know why he would get that idea?”

The teacher grew quiet for a moment and then excused herself to make a phone call. Coming back, she explained that there had been a misunderstanding. Apparently, our son mentioned the man once after we had met him, and one of the teachers had asked what he looked like. Then, when our son proceeded to say that we always avoid him, she jumped to the conclusion that we were racists and then had a talk with all the children about how it is bad to avoid someone just because of their skin colour. Unfortunately for our four-year-old, he didn’t quite grasp all the reasoning and took that as us being bad people.

We never found out which teacher it was, and I am sure she had noble intentions. But next time, I hope she talks to us before teaching our son that he is a bad person.

In my kindergarten class, I had a poster displaying my students’ names and the classroom jobs. Some of the listed jobs were for Calendar Helper, Line Leader, Problem Solver, etc.

One day, the line leader for the week was absent. When it came time to line up for music, two of my students rushed toward the door to take advantage of the line leader position being open for the day. Before I could get to the door, the two students began arguing over who got there first. Trying to foster a sense of cooperative reasoning, I asked the two students about their thoughts on the best way to handle this predicament. 

Student #1: “I know. We should ask the Problem Solver to make the decision.”

Me: “That’s a great idea.”

I squinted my eyes to read the poster. Before I could determine who held that particular job for the week, [Student #1] spoke up. 

Student #1: “Okay. Well, I’m the Problem Solver this week, so I’m the line leader. Problem solved.”

She shrugged her shoulders with a confidence uncommon for a kindergartener. [Student #2] was rendered speechless, his mouth a wide “O” while [Student #1] led the line of students to music class that day. She made it look so easy.

I am a kindergarten teacher. Today, I am supposed to be working on the seasons with children. After explaining the four seasons and going through activities where I get kids to describe each of them in their own words, I ask:

Me: “Okay, kids, what’s your favorite season?”

One kid shouts out:

Kid: “KETCHUP!”

Most of the other kids then chime in to say that ketchup is their favorite season. Some of them like mustard or mayonnaise, though they seem to struggle to understand the difference, a small contingent uncertainly chooses chocolate, and one weird little kid’s favorite is salt.

I had been planning to decorate the classroom according to the kid’s favorite season for the next day. I was expecting spring, summer, winter, or fall. As a result of the unexpected result of the vote, I was forced to scramble to decorate the classroom following the theme of “ketchup”. 

I hope that my class, in the years to come, looks back on this and remembers the time they collectively decided their favorite “season” was “ketchup” and the teacher decorated accordingly.

I worked as the head of IT in a municipal office, and part of my job description was help desk things. One day, a kindergarten called and let me know their smartphones didn’t work. They were not willing to elaborate any further. I thought, “Well, I guess I have to drive there and see what’s up myself.”

They’d had a landline phone for the past few decades and had only recently transitioned to smartphones with VOIP so that they didn’t have to leave the children to take calls.

I got there and the teacher who’d called explained the issue to me.

Teacher: “I can receive calls and texts, but I can’t make calls myself.”

I tried everything out, and it worked like a charm.

Me: “Can you show me what you’re doing when you want to call someone?”

Teacher: “Well, I open the number app and type in the number.”

She proceeded to open the calculator app on her phone and type in the telephone number.

Teacher: “Then I put the phone to my ear, but nothing happens.”

I calmly explained that she needed to use the phone app.

Although I can understand the confusion, smartphones have been around since that lady was around thirty years old.

Welp, a twenty-minute drive there and back for nothing, I guess.

I’m a kindergarten teacher in Singapore. My class of five-year-olds is doing an activity where they tell their dream job and why they want to do that job.

We get the usuals: astronauts, movie stars, and racecar drivers…

Girl: “When I grow up I want to become the Prime Minister of Singapore.”

Me: “Ah, that’s a nice dream. Why?”

Girl: “My daddy says that our Prime Minister is the number-one highest-paid politician in the world. He earns more than number two, three, four, and five combined. That’s why I want to be the Prime Minister. I want to earn all that money and become rich.”

Me: “So, it’s just for the money.”

Girl: “Isn’t that the whole point of being a politician?”

Coworker: “She’s not wrong about that.”

Me: “Yeah, at least she’s honest about it.”