Race Relations according to Ceilidh

Yesterday was Martin Luther King Jr. Day in the States. He had a dream that one day little black boys and little black girls would stand side by side and hold hands with their white counterparts. His dream is still coming to fruition in some parts of the world. In other areas, they've probably never heard of Martin Luther King. But in my little part of the world, I would venture a guess that his dream is becoming a reality.
When I went to grade school, in another city and a lifetime ago (or so it seems), you could count the number of the visibly minority families at my school on one hand. I was subjected to racial taunts and ignorant, if somewhat innocent, questions on the school yard. Like why is my nose flat?  I am still subjected to the random, ignorant questions about my heritage, which is pretty sad considering it's 2011 and I live and work in the GTA, one of the most culturally diverse communities.
Despite my experiences, I am hopeful that my children will not be on the receiving end of such ignorance and intolerance. Our residential neighbourhood is an example of the late Rev. King's dream. One glance at my children's class pictures reveals an array of skin tones amongst the students. Perusing the class list, you'd be hard put to find a boring, "white" surname like Smith, Jones, or Brown. While one may stumble on pronouncing the various names, the exotic list itself is a reminder of the cultural mosaic in which we find reside, work, and strive to achieve dreams of prosperity, health, and peace.
In Ceilidh's class, there are children of every ethnic background, and several of the mixed race variety too. While it may impose challenges to the predominantly white teachers who may need to find examples for class lessons, it's also a great teaching tool in itself. For example, my sister, a high school science teacher, once tried to suggest tomato soup as an example of a homogeneous substance and chicken noodle soup as a heterogeneous mixture. Her class was full of students who hailed from the middle east who looked at her uncomprehending, as they had never heard of, much less tasted tomato soup.
The other night, Ceilidh was pointing out her friends in the class picture to her Grandmother. Halmuhnee was amazed at the ethnic diversity in her class, and pointed to one obviously Asian girl.
"Is she Chinese?" my mother asked.
"Who her? No, she's not."
"Is she Korean?"
"No, she's just regular," was Ceilidh's nonchalant, innocent reply.

If only the entire world viewed its inhabitants through Ceilidh's eyes.