Russian Lessons…in Preschool?

A four-year-old girl named Enga moved from Russia to our town very late in the school year. Every day at drop-off time the other kids, who’d had six months of practice, would file into school calmly, waving good-bye. I felt so bad for this girl and her mom as Enga would erupt into tears, screaming and clinging every morning for over two weeks.

“Why don’t you try to be her friend?” I asked my kids. They told me they couldn’t because she didn’t speak any English.

“Well, try to teach her. You can wave and say, ‘hi.’ Or show her your necklace and say, ‘necklace.’” (The female bond of accessorizing is universal, I’m sure.)

One day my daughter came home and reported back: “I said something to Enga and she said something back.”

“That’s great. What did you talk about?”

“I don’t know, she was talking in Russian.”

The next day my daughter came home and proudly declared, “Momma, Enga said her first English word today and it was all because of me...”

“Awesome,” I said, expecting something profound—the kind of sentiment that brings nations together or fosters world peace. . .something like “necklace” or “hello” or “friend.”

“Well, Mom, she was running around the corner and she bumped right into my head....When I picked her up off the floor she said ‘Ouch!’!”

“Ouch.” Well, it’s not world peace, but I’ll take it.