My daughter wanted to hang a green shamrock on the front door for St. Patrick’s Day. Since we are not the least bit Irish (I’m 100% Polish; my husband is ¾ German; ¼ Slovakian), I never bothered to hang one. When March arrives, I usually search for spring or Easter-themed decorations and enjoy the brightly colored flowers and happy, hopping bunnies. However, my daughter kept insisting we needed a shamrock—she’s very keen on holiday decorations, so my husband brought one home. “It’s for the kids!” he responded with child-like enthusiasm to my blank expression. It didn’t bother me to decorate for St. Patrick’s Day or that money was spent on a sparkly, Kelly green shamrock—it just never occurred to me that the kids may want to celebrate even though we don’t have Irish blood running through our veins.
Come to think of it, they’ve expressed interest in Cinco de Mayo and Chinese New Year, too. They both love examining maps and figuring out where countries are in relation to America and New Jersey. How ridiculous for me not to encourage the kids’ interest in other cultures and taking advantage of what people call a “teaching moment.”
Both my parents’ relatives emigrated from Poland back in the early 1900s, and my mom grew up in a household where Polish was spoken by the grandparents who raised her. She knew all the traditions, a few Polish expressions and occasionally cooked traditional Polish food. My maiden name, which I write under, is a town in southern Poland, and I’ve joked that I’m descended from a Polish line of royalty.
When I was a child, I remember foolishly telling my mom that I wished I were Irish. She looked at me like I’d slapped her and told me never to be ashamed of my heritage. Ironically, I was surprised when I found out I wasn’t Irish. I grew up surrounded in Irish culture, spending time with my half-Irish cousins in an area where several families claimed Irish ancestry including most of the friends I made. Most of my parents’ close friends were Irish, and my mom always cooked a traditional Irish dinner on St. Patrick’s Day of corned beef, boiled potatoes, cabbage and carrots. A loaf of Irish soda bread, baked homemade, sat on the counter, ready to be eaten. I simply assumed we were somehow Irish.
My husband’s family all has Irish-sounding first names, so my mom automatically assumed that B was of Irish descent. Our last name, a very decidedly Slavic name, gets mistaken for Kirkpatrick enough times that we joked about formally changing it or using it as a pseudonym for the Witness Protection Program. When we moved into our apartment, we reserved a U-Haul truck under his last name only to find two trucks, one listed as “Kirkpatrick”, left. We took it.
My husband lived in Louisiana and embraces the culture found there. He keeps talking about visiting, “getting back to his roots” and how much he misses the South (he also lived in Alabama). Meanwhile, he spent most of his life in New Jersey, his parents are from Central Pennsylvania, and his mom engages in Pennsylvania Dutch traditions and uses several hilarious expressions. My husband also embraces the Asian Indian culture and waxes nostalgic about the stories his ex-girlfriend’s father told him about his childhood in India.
My kids aren’t jaded by any of societies’ prejudices—they’re fascinated that people look different, celebrate different holidays and live in diverse environments. This is my opportunity to introduce them to different foods, traditions and people before they fall victim to differences that become prejudices. Learning about other cultures is so important in teaching kids about tolerance, geography and history that I’m missing a valuable “teaching moment” by nonchalantly responding to their request for a holiday decoration. Unless it violates a fundamental, moral value I want to bestow on my children, I could easily teach them about a holiday, whether it’s part of my heritage or not.
Introducing my kids to diversity is as easy as traveling to museums, trying different foods without totally driving them away from the table and reading books about other cultures, religions and languages. Maybe I’ll encourage them to learn a new language. I’ll take advantage of their interest to tell them how wonderful it is to be who they are but emphasizing how valuable other culture’s contributions are in the make-up of the world. When they want to celebrate a holiday not their own…spin a dreidel, hang a shamrock, drink margaritas on May 5th (oh, wait, that’s me!) or celebrate Chinese New Year, I’ll offer information about the holidays and culture instead of dissuading it. It’s a small world after all.
This essay was previously published on Jersey Moms Blog.
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