Okay, as I was typing that last post, my son got up to tell me, "Mama, I've been noticing something. My teacher is the only third grade teacher who's not-"
I stopped him there, way unready to deal with what I knew was coming. "Well, no. Ms. D is Latina."
"That's true," he said, "but my teacher is the only one who's black!"
Wow. I didn't even realize he was thinking about things like this. "What does that mean to you?" I asked.
"I don't know. But I don't feel very good about it." When I pressed him about why he didn't feel good about it, he couldn't articulate it. Instead, he pointed out that the situation was the same in first grade, where there is one black teacher and the one "brown" teacher left "because she had a baby." And then, he said, "And all the music teachers are white! I don't feel very good about that either."
And then he kicked my mattress and went back to bed.
To say that I am stunned is an understatement. Tomorrow evening is going to bring quite the conversation.