My son, Isaac, is currently in first grade, and this academic year has proven to be one full of self-discovery and -actualization. I always thought hearing his first words was the most breathtaking parenting moment, but witnessing him trying to place himself along the myriad of spectrums of identity, has been nothing short of magic.
The other day, he told me how some boys like to play rough while others liked princesses, and how he was somewhere in the middle. Believe me, that is some pretty insightful analysis from a boy whose favorite YouTube video features a cat hiccuping and farting at the same time.
A few weeks ago, while I was volunteering in his classroom, I came upon a pen pal letter he had written. It went something like this:
Dear Pen Pal,
Hi! How are you? My name is Isaac and I am Korean. Are you Korean too? I am very good at addition and pretty good at subtraction, and I am a good listener. What do you like to do? I hope you write back soon. Bye!
Isaac
Did you see that??? He said he was Korean. Be still my heart! I can die now, my work on earth is done.
So when it came time for this month's show and tell (the assignment was to bring something that symbolizes your family's winter traditions), I asked him if he wanted to bring in his han bok and talk about how Koreans celebrate New Year's, namely how we go to our grandparents' house, bow to them and get money, then eat a huge meal involving soup, fish, and the like. He was keen on the idea, and we rehearsed a few times to make sure he was prepared.
The morning of his presentation, we had another walk-through and I nearly fainted when he said, "My name is Isaac and I am going to talk about New Year's. This is my, uh...my...Hong Kong, which is a kind of Chinese or Japanese thing you wear."
I suppose we are all works in progress, right?
