A couple weeks back, I went to my son’s school as a volunteer for his holiday class party. In an attempt to be overly PC they had all the usual non-denominational stuff: snow flake making, a toilet paper snowman contest, and other things related to snow and not Chanukah menorahs or Christmas trees or whatever kwanza has… like, kangaroos. Frankly, I don’t know if there’s a Kwanza Kangaroo, but I like to think there is one.
Every holiday needs a mildly creepy ambassador. I mean, there’s Santa Clause for X-mas. He’s a fat, jolly, old guy that likes to have children on his lap, which is kinda disturbing. There’s a Hanukkah Harry, who sounds like a drunken trench coat wearing uncle who may flash you in front of the menorah, and I assume – there’s a Kwanza Kangaroo, who let’s you feel in his pocket for presents and for pleasure.
Not the Creepy Kangaroo you were picturing, or is it?
I may have just massacred the mascots of three religions at once. And to think I wasn’t a part of the politically incorrect story I’m about to tell.
Moving on. We were in the midst of making snowflakes, which had to have a picture of the student glued on the front. I grabbed some of those tiny 1×2” pictures and started giving them to their respective owners. I can barely tell the girls apart with the feathers in their hair and the Justice accessories, but I managed, then I came across an Asian child. He was one of many Asian children in the class.
Hello, it’s gifted.
I don’t want to say he’s Chinese because I always get that stuff wrong, and then I seem ignorant.
As you can tell from the story thus far, I hate to sound ignorant. Though to be fair, I wouldn’t expect you to know me from a Canadian.
I put the child’s picture at the back of my pile, to be certain I was giving it to the right Asian child.
Not that they all look alike.
I mean, if that’s where your head was going, then I’m quite sure you’re guilty of racial profiling.
Shame on you.
I, on the other hand was concerned that in this cripplingly PC society, that had I given the wrong picture to the wrong child and he happened to be Asian, I would be perceived as being prejudiced myself. Though if I’d given a feather laden girl the wrong pic, we’d have laughed it off.
As I walked over to the child whose picture was last in my pile, I saw him holding another picture in his hand.
Holy shit, I am guilty, I can’t tell them apart. This is horrible, I have to stop being so preachy to other people.
Shame on me!
Then, I looked at the picture in his hand and realized that HE was holding the wrong picture, not I.
OMG the irony.
I tried to hand him his picture, which he was reluctant to trade, sure he had the correct one.
“No, this is you.” I said.
I mean, if you can’t tell yourself from another child of similar decent, than I think the rest of us are in the clear here. Phew, one less PC thing to worry about.
And the best part, I made it out of this scenario somehow unscathed and totally PC
What did I learn: Asian children have trouble telling themselves from other Asian children… It must be the pocket protectors and the ping pong paddles they carry around with them.
Relax, I was just kidding, you can’t play ping pong in school, though they did look like this:
Well, like this but, younger and with black socks and sandals.
May we all be a bit less PC in the New Year.
It’s that time of year again… Time for that timeless Jewish tale that should be read the night before Christmas after eating Chinese and watching whatever movie your kids talk you into.
