The truth is, I would love to do a giant "Hunger Banquet," where guests come in, pick a country, and get their seating arrangements and food accordingly (First world countries have like a 3 or 4 course meal and sit at tables with tablecloths while the third world countries are on the floor eating beans and rice).
However, the thought of trying to pull something like that off with 34 nine-year-olds in the middle of the school day has thus far proved much too daunting to even begin to attempt it. Therefore, I have decided to go with my own version of it in a way kids (hopefully) understand.
I feel very strongly about it--especially in an area where they have lived such privileged lives. They, for the most part, live in very nice and stable homes. They go to golf and horseback riding lessons, gymnastic meets and dance lessons. They tell me about their new iPod touches and how they are asking Santa for an iPad.
While my idea in choosing this over a party has always been a deep desire to open their eyes to the world beyond themselves and their bubbles that they think are most people's realities, I have been surprised at how much my own eyes have been opened in the process. If you want to learn why the world is the way it is, just watch a group of nine-year-olds.
This year, I have a fairly calm, well-behaved class. I anticipated they would be much more generous than last year's class and we would have a great after activity discussion on giving.
I began by having everyone be "born." They randomly drew a card with a continent on it. They understood that they did not get to choose where they would go, they would just get what was dealt them.
We went out to the hall where we had divided up continents with masking tape on the floor. They went to their areas and waited. I let them know we'd be having a party, which got them pretty excited. I said they would each get a bag of cookies and could eat them and talk for a few minutes, and then we'd go back to class. I began to give them each their bag of cookies and it didn't take long to realize that Africa was sharing a couple little Keebler elf cookies and North America had...uh...ten, twelve, fourteen (?) giant pumpkin chocolate chip cookies for the two of them. I had to tell one boy he couldn't "move to North America," and settle a few kids down, and then we went back in the room.
As we were going in, my upset students kept saying, "It's not fair! How come they got a whole bag just for them?" I calmly responded that they were probably just better and smarter than everyone else and they deserved them. Outraged they said, "That's not true! That's mean!"
"No it's not," I replied. "They deserved it."
We then began talking about whether or not they had liked our class party. Before long, I heard some of the most interesting things I've heard this year.
The most shocking was when I talked to the kids representing North America and Europe.
Me: "Why didn't you share your cookies?"
North America: "I don't know. Because they were ours. They belonged to us."
Me: "But couldn't you see that they had less?"
North America: "Yes..."
Me: "And you still chose not to share?"
North America: "Well, they were our cookies..."
Boy in Asia: "We started a war."
Me: "You started a war?"
Boy in Asia: "Yes, because we wanted their cookies. So we started a war."
Me: "And how did that make you feel, Europe?"
Boy in Europe: "Well, it made me kind of mad. I mean, if they had just asked nicely, I would have maybe given them some. But they were just trying to take our stuff. They didn't even ask. They were just taking."
Boy in Asia: "Yeah, but we wanted some cookies!"
Boy in Europe: "I know, but you were just trying to grab them out of my hands!"
Kid in class: "So, do we all get cookies now?"
Me: "No, the cookies are gone."
Kids: "What?! They're gone? I only got one bite?!"
Me: "Well, when we started, believe it or not, there were 34 cookies. There were enough that every single kid in the class could have one. Everyone could have had a cookie."
Kids: "WHAT?! No! There couldn't have been. There were enough cookies? Then why didn't we get one?"
Me: "Because some of the continents had more cookies."
Me: "You may not realize it because you haven't had a chance to visit a lot of other countries, but many people do not live the way we do. When I lived in Guatemala, there were a lot of people living in boxes, or in cinderblock houses with a tin roof."
Boy: "That's really funny."
Rest of class: "That's NOT funny."
And I think in the end, that was the most insightful comment of all. She nearly made me cry. Because in the midst of all the wars and the people trying to take what is "just" and the people who feel it is not deserved or taken in the right way, those who don't know the reality of life in the world or are so far removed it seems funny, in the end, it comes down to us--each of us--and the way we choose to see beyond ourselves, or if we see at all.
It seems only appropriate that the girl who summed it up best was named Gracie. In this season of Grace, when we think about the only person who perfectly loved, who gave everything selflessly, that we spend a little time worrying less about ourselves and more about other people.
So, the lesson, as always, didn't go exactly as planned. I was surprised once again, and saddened to see that after all our talking and everything we felt, the little girl who was North America asked if she could go put "her" cookies in her backpack and took them home, ignoring her begging classmates who asked if now, after the lesson, she would share. Someone asked if I would make them share. No. That would defeat the whole purpose. Because in this life, the only way anything changes is when we ourselves choose to give. "North America" may not have been changed that day in class, but I know the things I felt as I watched, and I was. I know I can't fix everything, but I am committed to look around beyond my own little life and do something. Because anyone can do that.
