(My dad’s given name is “William,” but from the moment he was born everyone called him “Billy.” This ended up causing problems on his first day of kindergarten. My dad was off in a corner.)

Teacher: “William, please sit over here.”

(My dad continued playing. He had no idea the teacher was addressing him.)

Teacher: “William, come over here!”

(Dad continued playing. The teacher walks over to him.)

Teacher: “WILLIAM! Why aren’t you listening to me?”

Dad: “My name’s not William. It’s Billy.”

(The teacher called my grandma to tell her about what happened. When my dad got home from school, he and my grandma had to have a long talk about what his name really was.)

(When I was in kindergarten, we made Thanksgiving placemats by coloring in pictures of a pilgrim, which my teacher then laminated for us. I decided to color my pilgrim green because I didn’t like leaving a lot of white space.)

Teacher: “Why is your pilgrim green?”

Me: “He’s an alien.”

Teacher: “There weren’t any aliens at the first Thanksgiving.”

Me: “Now there is!”

(When I showed it to my dad after school, he pointed out that technically all the pilgrims were aliens because they came from a different continent. We still have that placemat somewhere.)

(My aunt is teaching a group of small children, talking to them about Disney princesses.)

Aunt: “I rather like Belle. Which one is your favorite?”

Little Girl: “I like Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella. I don’t like Tiana.”

Aunt: “Why not?”

Little Girl: “I just don’t like her color.”

Aunt: *feeling uncomfortable* “Um, why not? I think she is very pretty.”

Little Girl: “Yes, but I really don’t like green. I like blue and pink.”

Aunt: “Oh. Well, that’s fine, then!”

(I am a precocious child, and learn how to read and write at a very early age, mainly thanks to my father. I’m about five or six years old and in nursery school (kindergarten). During writing lessons, the teacher has us write the obligatory ‘what we did during vacation’ story. Halfway through the lesson, I raise my hand for the teacher’s attention.)

Me: “Miss, how do you spell ‘rhamphorhynchus’?”

Teacher: “[My Name], there’s no such word.”

Me: “Yes, there is. It’s a type of dinosaur bird.”

Teacher: “No, there isn’t. Now get on with your work.”

(Undeterred, I get off my chair and walk to the school library, pick out a dinosaur book I already know they have (I had the same book at home), and walk back to the class. As I walk up to the teacher’s desk I open the book to the correct page and slide it on to her desk, stabbing my finger down on to the page.)

Me: *victoriously* “RHAMPHORHYNCHUS!”

(As the teacher stared at me in shock, I picked up the book and wandered back to my desk to finish my story. I later learned that my father was called into school a few days after and chastised by the teacher for teaching me how to read and write and making her look bad…)

(I am doing an internship in a local kindergarten. This kindergarten is taking equality and multicultural learning very seriously. The children come from all across the world, so of course some feature darker skin as well. One afternoon, I am dressing all the naked dolls with the help of a Caucasian four-year-old. One of the dolls has dark skin, too.)

Girl: “Okay, now we’ll take the brown sunburnt baby.”

(I was in shock for a few seconds, not knowing how to react. I tried hard not to burst into laughter.)

Me: “Is this what you children always call this doll?”

Girl: “Yes.” *smiles and hums as she chooses the clothes with the doll in her arms*