When authors visit schools and it’s Q&A time, we are likely to hear many of the same questions: What inspired you to become a writer? Where do you get your ideas? What’s your favorite book? How much money do you make?
I am generally prepared for this kind of curiosity, and I love the resulting interactions with young readers. But, occasionally, a child (often a very young one) asks something that floors me. This happened recently, while I was at a New Orleans school visiting 2nd graders who had read Small Shoes, Great Strides: How Three Brave Girls Opened Doors to School Equality.
Small Shoes tells of the three 6-year-old girls (Leona Tate, Tessie Prevost, and Gail Etienne) who, in 1960, desegregated New Orleans’ McDonogh 19 Public School amidst angry mobs. About the protesters, one second grader—whom I will call Peggy—asked, “Why are white people so dramatic?”
I couldn’t resist a little laugh at first, but then, I felt a pang in my heart. I took a breath and said, “We all can get dramatic sometimes. I do when I’m upset or even joyful about something that matters to me. I’m sure you do, too. Being dramatic isn’t something that happens only to one group of people. The white people who protested at McDonogh 19 were upset because something was happening they didn’t like. So you can say they got dramatic. Other groups of people sometimes misbehave when things don’t go their way.”
Later, this felt bigger to me than that. I realized Peggy was stereotyping—probably as a result of reading Small Shoes. The thought that my book may have led to something bad broke my heart. I felt a little better when Peggy’s teacher revealed that “dramatic” was on the students’ vocabulary list. The class had been encouraged to practice using the words in their daily speech. This insight helped.
Still, my discomfort lingers. I had witnessed first hand how innocent minds can begin to form assumptions that categorize people based on (in this case) race, or on economics, religion, etc. How, in the bigger picture, these assumptions can divide us and lead to ridicule, contempt or hate.
I love words. I’ve said this many times. I love their power to create beauty and lift up, their power—when put together in marvelous ways—to bring stories to life. But their power to create ugliness and hurt often scares me. I’m mindful of this and try to exercise care. When writing, I have time to think things through, to consider each word carefully, consult a dictionary or thesaurus, and make my best choices. It’s easier to make mistakes with words when I am simply reacting to what is happening around me. I don’t have the luxury of thinking it through or going to a reference book. Maybe that’s all it was with Peggy. Maybe she was just demonstrating she knew how to use “dramatic” in a sentence. Maybe I’m over reacting, being “dramatic.” I hope so.
I appreciate what I can learn from my readers and from children in general. I know after my books are published, they are no longer mine. They have lives of their own. I can’t, and shouldn’t want to, control what reactions may come. Each individual brings personal baggage (good and bad) to the reading experience, and each will come away with something different. All I can do is hope it’s something good.