It was a busy day for my daughter, "Elizabeth." Today my grandson turned six. My daughter, his mother, paid a visit to his school after work, taking cupcakes for the whole kindergarten class. Of course, she was an instant hit with the kids. Let me pause for a moment to let you know that Elizabeth is black, and she lives in the suburbs.
When the party was over, and it was time for the students to go to gym. My daughter started packing up to go home. The teacher, Ms. Endicott, asked my daughter if she had met the gym teacher. My daughter had not, so the teacher encouraged Elizabeth to walk with the class to the gymnasium.
Along the way, Ms. Endicott asked my daughter if she had any more children. "No," Elizabeth said.
The teacher, now wearing a big smile, said, "Oh, you must meet our gym teacher, Mr. Johnson. He's very nice."
My daughter said, "I'm sure he is, but I'm sure he's very busy. Maybe another time."
Ms. Endicott persisted. "Oh, no! It will only take a moment. Besides, he's really, really nice." By the time my daughter's thinking this is a bit awkward.
One little blond-haired girl overheard the conversation, and cheerfully jumped into the conversation. "Yeah, Mr. Johnson is really nice. He's black!"
By this time, everyone had reached the gym, and my daughter met Mr. Johnson. She said that Ms. Endicott stood back and nodded her head as the gym teacher and my daughter exchanged pleasantries.
"Mom, it was so weird," Elizabeth told me later. She had never had a teacher try to set her up with a guy before.
My response: "Ewwwwe!"