One great article I recently read was “Gender in the Fast Lane” by Jennifer Holladay, (accessed from the web on 23 September 2009). In this brief article, Holladay bemoans the now common practice of fast food restaurants asking if the kid’s meal is for a girl or a boy. I was interested because I was just having this discussion with someone the other day. The author mentions that the current Burger King children’s campaign is based on The Dangerous Book For Boys and The Daring Book For Girls; the correlating toys being a “Dangerous Space” stencil set for boys, versus a “Sea Animals” stencil set for girls. Who says girls aren’t into space? Or is the message here that space is “too dangerous” for girls? I think Valentina Tereshkova, Sally Ride, and even Judith Resnick (who perished in the Challenger disaster), would beg to differ.

I completlely agree with the viewpoint expressed in this article. I personally always wanted the Hot Wheels toy, not the Barbie. But that’s just me. My best friend and her brother always wanted the Barbie, or the Polly Pocket, or whatever. Why is the American fast food industry allowed to be so publicly sexist in its treatment of our children? I’m sure the same sexism just wouldn’t fly if it were aimed at the same companies’ employees, or even the adult population of customers.

I really like the exercise recommended at the end of the article (also found on www.tolerance.org). It goes something like this: The children are given different scenarios demonstrating gender bias. At the end of each scenario, the teacher can say: “What do we say to that person?”  And the answer, in each case, is: “That’s weird! Being boys and girls doesn’t matter here!” I don’t imagine I’ll use that exact phrase with the children in my care, but the principle works. We give children scripted responses to other situations: “I don’t like it when you hit me,” “This is my body. Don’t touch me like that,” and on and on and on. Why not equip them with words to stand up against bias, gender or otherwise? After a discussion on the subject of gender and fairness, I’m sure my kids can come up with their own “scripted responses.”

What, you don’t know? You don’t go into a panic when you realize that you’re out of Cream of Tartar, because you simply cannot make Play-Dough without Cream of Tartar? Hmm. Come to think of it, I don’t know why it’s so vital, either.

You’ve never added peppermint extract to paint or glue just to see if the scent sticks around in the finished art project? Well, have you ever tried to keep a stern, authoritative face as a tiny voice singing “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds” wafts through the otherwise peaceful Rest Time atmosphere? Have you ever cried for some little person who smacks his head on a table just as you’re saying: “That’s not safe?”

If you have, then maybe you know Preschool. It’s a magical place where nothing is too big. Chairs, tables, scissors, toilets, sinks… all things useful are tiny and low. In Preschool, it’s adults who are challenged by the height, width, and breadth of things. It’s the perfect place to be a kid–The perfect place to work and play. Welcome to heaven!

Early one cold, wintry, morning Sierra woke up and realized that it was Monday. She closed her eyes again and wished for it to be another stay-home day. When she opened them again, she thought it might still be Monday, but she couldn’t be sure.

She went downstairs to look for her mom.

Mom was drinking coffee. Sierra peeked at her from the hallway. “Hmmm…” she thought, “Mom is all dressed to go to work. She is wearing her working suit. She wouldn’t be wearing that if it were a stay home day.”

Clarissa thought it must be Monday. But still, she couldn’t be sure.

“Oh! You’re up early today, Sierra,” her mom said. “I was going to let you sleep for ten more minutes.”