In March, I went to my eight year old granddaughter's third grade class to tell them about my trip to India and to show them some of my Indian purchases. Shelby introduced me to her class and when she finished the introduction, I asked her in a whisper if she would like to stay up in front of the class and help me. She politely said no, and added, “I would rather sit at my desk.” I said that was fine, and began telling the class about India.

The children seem mesmerized by the pictures demonstrating a life very different than theirs. They were taken with the fact that almost all the objects I brought, including my silk carpet, had been made by hand and that these objects took anywhere from a day to a year to create. They were also fascinated by the picture of four children I had given some lollipops to, and the third graders were shocked when I told them how I had to demonstrate to these children how to eat them. All in all, I had a wonderful time sharing another part of the world with my granddaughter and her third grade class.

On the way home, my granddaughter told me how much she enjoyed the class and she added: “You know what Gram, I think you were nervous!” I chuckled and thought to myself, 'I, who am a national trainer, should be nervous speaking to eighteen third graders about an incredible journey!' But I was curious, and asked her how she could tell I was nervous.

My granddaughter said, “Grandma, you must have been nervous. Why else would you have asked me to stay up in front of the class with you?” Again, I chuckled to myself, realizing all I had wanted to do by inviting her assistance was to accord her some special attention. But her interpretation of my gesture was entirely different from my intentions. I thought to myself, 'how interesting and how easy it is to misinterpret, misperceive … even with children; and even more so, how easy it is to be completely unaware of it!'

About two weeks after my classroom visit, Shelby brought me a pile of thank you notes from them. In the evening I read through their notes. While each child distinctly reflected something unique they liked or disliked about what they had learned, I quickly realized how each and every child had specifically thanked me for letting them 'touch the photographs.' Note after note reflected, in their own words, how grateful they were to be able to touch everything: the silk carpet, the items made from sandalwood, my pachmina (shawl) and most of all …the photographs!

Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with my own memory as a parent, instructing my children 'not to touch' this or that … just to look! And interestingly, as a grandparent, my first instinct was to truly share these articles, photographs included, with the children. Why not? What difference would a finger smudge make on any of my pictures? Would it be better for me to tuck the pictures away in my trunk, clean and free of finger marks; or would it enrich me more to know that children held these pictures, intrigued and curious with a world quite different than their own.

I went to my granddaughter's class to share and teach the children about India. I did not expect that they would teach me … and yet they did. I am just glad I was conscious enough to realize what I had learned from my little third grade friends. Children have their own set of perceptions. Let us take care not to dismiss, but instead to explore them. And secondly, children learn a great deal through touch …let's not lose a special moment to a finger smudge!

Copyright © 2001 Elaine K. Williams. All rights reserved worldwide.