Happy Birthday, Dr. Lincoln, I mean Washington, I mean King

My boys are at that stage in their education when they're starting to get a lot of facts thrown at them, especially Diego, now in the second grade. They know, for instance, about a president named George Washington. Diego has also learned some things about Abraham Lincoln. And I've seen little readings about Martin Luther King Jr., whose birthday we celebrate today.

The problem is, however, that they're receiving all these facts and are either not being allowed to process them fully, or their brains are not yet at a point of being able to do so.

It leads to some pretty interesting conversations, which remind me of collages of historical figures, glued together in an attempt to make meaning of the interesting stuff they've been learning.

For example, the other day, as I drove them to school, I wanted to see what they knew about Dr. King, since they would be having a day off to celebrate his birth.

"So guys," I said, peering into the rear view mirror, "what can you tell me about Martin Luther King?"

The second grader raised his hand politely, but before I could "call on him," the Kindergartner yelled out, "Maulinlooferking was a very nice man who died a long time ago!"

"Jack-SIN!" Diego whined.

"Okay, Jackson, that was good, but Diego raised his hand."

"And maulinlooferking was the boss of everything," Jackson continued.

"STOP!!" Diego yelled with such urgency that you'd think Jackson was somehow emptying his bank account, bleeding him dry.

Fearing the dreaded "Boy Fight," I informed Jackson that it was Diego's turn to share.

"Martin Luther King freed the slaves," the older boy announced.

"I think you might be thinking of someone else," I said.

"He's on pennies."

"That's Abraham Lincoln."

"And he made the world safe after the Revolutionary War."

I do my best to encapsulate the Civil Rights movement, talking about segregation, and even "personalizing" it for them, suggesting that, had Dr. King never been born, the two of them might never have been born either.

"Why, Daddy?"

I explained that as people of two different racial backgrounds, their mother and I might never have been allowed to marry. There was a pause, and then I heard them both laugh. It wasn't derisive or silly; in fact their laughter made me happy. The laugh suggested that they had thought about what I'd said, looked at each other, and then silently concluded that the notion of a world where their parents were not together was utterly ridiculous.

At that point, they moved on to the next topic of conversation, which was, if I'm not mistaken, whether or not Spider-man could beat up Batman.