Christopher Columbus.

In 1492, Columbus sailed the ocean blue . . . And then what happened? He “discovered” America, which was sitting all pristine and untamed waiting for some white guy connected to wealthy people to conquer the land and colonize the people. I wanted more stories in my history classes of real people, not just the events that shaped their reality. The move toward studying history through more than one genre and more than one voice is growing, thank goodness. Reading history through a single lens objectifies moments of living, shifts in power, and emotional turmoil as just dates on a calendar. 

            

Turner and I were on the way to Kindergarten and it is Columbus day. In all the states we’ve lived in, school is out of session in honor of Columbus. All the states except Arizona. As was usual, the sun was bright as I took Turner to school that morning.

“Do you know what today is?”

“Monday.”

“Yes, but it is also a holiday meant to honor Christopher Columbus. Who is he?” I assumed they had talked a bit about him at school.

“He was a sailor. He came to some islands south of America. He was searching for treasure.”

“What treasure did he find?”

“I don’t know.”

“He found many valuable things. Sugar, gold, and people.”

“People?”

“People. He enslaved people . . .”
He interrupted me, “Why have a holiday named after him?”

“Many people say that Columbus discovered America. Do you think this huge continent was sitting empty waiting on Columbus.”
He thought while we sat through the stop light at Grant and Swan. “Indians have always been here, so he couldn’t have beaten them here.”

“Precisely.” Turner knows the word indigenous, and he knows that it applies to “old” knowledge and to lives that came before any others. But this was not the word he chose first.

“Did Columbus make Indians slaves?”

“Yes. And he, or people with him, killed the natives who refused to be enslaved or who couldn't pay.”

“That’s sad.”

“Yes. And it is really sad that people in our country think of Columbus as this really great guy who made America happen. How different things would be without Columbus.”
“Yeah." He grew quiet. As I turned onto our street he said, "Maybe he was a good guy who did bad things.”

“Maybe.”

“And maybe he started racism.”

“Doubtful. Conflicts between races and tribes and regions and religions. That kind of stuff has been around so long. Some people just need to feel superior.”

“Superior?”

“People don’t always claim to be superior but they might look down on someone else for a choice or something they might do or wear or say.”

“Like being smarter?”

“Yes.”

“But Columbus wasn’t smarter than the other people?”
“No he wasn’t smarter. He just stole power. He colonized.” I paused. How to define colonize. “That means he came in and tried to make this land and these people live in the way he thought was right or best or just served his needs.” 

We sat in silence as he processed things. I dropped him off at school. I picked him up from school. He told me the things that he learned about Columbus, and none of them included slavery or colonialism. The next year, we were in a different state and a new school. First grade.

His teacher is a poised but younger teacher. She emerged from a three-generation legacy of educators. As she invited students to flip through books related to Columbus’s voyage, Turner said out loud to the class, “You know, Columbus was a murderer.” I don't know how long he contained this information, if he said it the moment his butt his the floor or after he flipped through the pages of a book.

“Turner,” his teacher made eye contact. “Let’s focus on the positive history Columbus brought to the Americas,” and she returned to reading a book to a few children sitting below her wooden rocking chair.

A couple of hours after I picked Turner up from school, his teacher called me. “We had a little incident with Turner today.”

News to me. I’m surprised and worried instantly. “Oh really? What happened?”

“Turner shouted out in class today while we were studying Columbus. He was quite disruptive.”

I unintentionally interrupted her, “Oh, is that today? Hm.”

“Yes, he shouted out and said Columbus was a murderer. And later, he told another student that Columbus Day is wrong. “

“Well, Ms. ___, can you blame him?”

Silence. I am constantly confronting my own naïveté about people's innate desire for social justice.

“Columbus did enslave people. He regularly removed the hands of native people when they could not pay him. There are many histories of Columbus.”

“Kids need leaders to look to. . . ”

“Yes, I agree,” I interrupted again, with more intention this time. “And I thank you for calling us. I’ll definitely talk to Turner about shouting out in the classroom. He must be respectful.”

Before bedtime, I asked Turner about his Columbus lesson. He smiled, as though he had forgotten. “I told the class Columbus murdered people. Ms. ___ acted like he was a hero, so, you know.” He leaned off the bed, kissed my lips, and grabbed LaLa Bear.

Feminist interruption.