41- An American

There are many culturally confused students in our school. Lots of children are from biracial families. Our school is a true Melting Pot community. This is wonderful because the students have the opportunity to learn about and respect other cultures.
The cultural diversity can also be trouble because not all students know what race they are. Every kid wants to feel a sense of belonging to a specific culture, yet somewhere down the line, their culture has been lost. Today Gaby came up to me and literally asked, “Teacher, what color am I?”
What color is she? What kind of question is that? At first, I did not understand what she was asking. I figured it out when Kramer hollered out, “You white, Gaby!”
“No she isn’t. She’s black, like me.” objected Kathleen.
I took a close look at the girl. I had no idea what race Gaby was. Her skin had an olive brown glow to it, her eyes were greenish-brown, and her hair was a wiry, jet black. She could be any race. I didn’t know how to answer.
“What race are your parents?” I asked. Unless I went to her permanent records, I would have no idea what Gaby’s race was.
“My momma looks like me.”
Helpful.
“What country were you born in?”
“America.” Gaby replied.
“Okay, then, sweetie- you’re an American. Now, go sit down.” I held my breath, waiting for Gaby to ask me another tricky question.
Luckily, she did go sit down and on the way to her seat, Gaby glanced proudly examined her skin tone and exclaimed, “I’m an American!”