In city schools(in India) most children have seen a white person, but this week, for some, I was their first. Fortunately, at this school, none cried at the sight if me (that has happened), but for sure some were hesitant. For one beautiful little girl, the only pictures I was able to take show her looking at me very skeptically - as if checking to see whether I was real.
Often, if I am sitting on the gound with the smallest ones, they will poke my arm or lightly stroke it as if to discover whether it feels the same. Children aren’t the only ones who are curious. Adults, of course, know my skin feels the same - yet a dance of sorts seemed to play out all week as my new hosts and I tried to figure each other out. Sometimes, I felt a like a trophy, paraded to different homes just so I could shake hands with the occupants. Young and old would watch through the gates and ask questions of the teachers or children who were accompanying me.
The smallest little girl in this school was not sure WHAT to think of me. Since she was the shortest she was in the front - first kid in the first row. Her arms were crossed tightly with eyebrows furrowed; she stared at me during the entire morning assembly. If I stepped too close, she'd back away. She was not sure what to make of me but was determined to figure me out. Her demeanor contrasted with most of the children who usually clamor all around in order to shake my hand. Some, I know would shake once and immediately stick it back out to be shaken again. At recess, in order to walk across the school grounds, I sometimes had to refuse to shake any hands for when I shook one - all would come running . After a day or two, the smallest ones followed the lead of the the older students and got over their hesitancy about me but that never happened with this smallest child. Every morning for the entire week, the stare down continued. On my last day, she sat in the doorway of her classroom. No other children were around to notice so I bent to shake her hand....not sure of what to expect. She looked at my hand....gave it a nice looooong stare....and quickly pulled her own hand out from behind her back and touched mine for one second. One second was all she was willing to risk and then shoved it deep into her lap and stared. I congratulated her for her bravery. I was hopeful that since the initial contact had gone smoothly she might try again with less fear. I stuck my hand out again. With her eyes darting between my hand and my face she shook her head no. Once was enough. I am hopeful our brief contact took the edge off her fears and I do give her credit for trying.
Often, if I am sitting on the gound with the smallest ones, they will poke my arm or lightly stroke it as if to discover whether it feels the same. Children aren’t the only ones who are curious. Adults, of course, know my skin feels the same - yet a dance of sorts seemed to play out all week as my new hosts and I tried to figure each other out. Sometimes, I felt a like a trophy, paraded to different homes just so I could shake hands with the occupants. Young and old would watch through the gates and ask questions of the teachers or children who were accompanying me.
The smallest little girl in this school was not sure WHAT to think of me. Since she was the shortest she was in the front - first kid in the first row. Her arms were crossed tightly with eyebrows furrowed; she stared at me during the entire morning assembly. If I stepped too close, she'd back away. She was not sure what to make of me but was determined to figure me out. Her demeanor contrasted with most of the children who usually clamor all around in order to shake my hand. Some, I know would shake once and immediately stick it back out to be shaken again. At recess, in order to walk across the school grounds, I sometimes had to refuse to shake any hands for when I shook one - all would come running . After a day or two, the smallest ones followed the lead of the the older students and got over their hesitancy about me but that never happened with this smallest child. Every morning for the entire week, the stare down continued. On my last day, she sat in the doorway of her classroom. No other children were around to notice so I bent to shake her hand....not sure of what to expect. She looked at my hand....gave it a nice looooong stare....and quickly pulled her own hand out from behind her back and touched mine for one second. One second was all she was willing to risk and then shoved it deep into her lap and stared. I congratulated her for her bravery. I was hopeful that since the initial contact had gone smoothly she might try again with less fear. I stuck my hand out again. With her eyes darting between my hand and my face she shook her head no. Once was enough. I am hopeful our brief contact took the edge off her fears and I do give her credit for trying.
This is such a sweet story!! How neat that you allowed her the freedom of discovery and the freedom to react to you in her own hesitant way.
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