“Two black men walk down the street in tennis shorts, shirts, and shoes and with tennis rackets in hand. A child walks past and remarks to his father, ‘Look, dad, they are going to play basketball,’” an African American professor of Chemical Engineering spoke during his stand-up routine. “How delightfully racist young children can be,” he remarked after the sombre anecdote. Until now, I’d forgotten the tale.

Today, I spent time in an elementary school in an affluent suburb. The teachers there had a habit of posting their students’ creative projects on bulletin boards for all to see. Normally, I’d pay little attention to the displays, but I had free time at recess and decided to read some comics from second graders. The topic was immigration. The content was horrifying.

“I hate Muslim,” said stick figure of ambiguous origin number one. “I don’t have money. I can’t go to school. I can’t find work.”

“It’s so crowded here. There is no food,” protested Italian stickmen.

“We have to escape the famine. There is food in Ohio,” cried the thin Irish sticks.

Ah, the Promised American land with plentiful crops and jobs! Would things get better for the stick people? You bet!

“When do the voting booths open?” inquires a German stick immigrant, happy and free on U.S. soil at last. “Yay, Christmas trees!” his family rejoices. “We are having a baby.”

“I have a job!” the citizen of the mysterious land of Muslim smiles.

The stickmen are happy in America. In fact, everyone is happy, well-fed, and free. Stable employment is readily available. Who would want to live in Germany, Italy, Ireland, or “Muslim”? Ohio rocks! The U.S. rules!

Must I elaborate on the trouble with these comics?

Even if "Muslim" was a nation, and the Irish famine happened recently, and Germany had neither voting booths nor Christmas trees, the thought that children are indoctrinated with the idea that America is the only great place to live is horrible. One could argue that even the idea of making comics about the harsh immigrant experience is flawed in itself. But the most heinous part of the assignment? The teacher endorsed it. She posted it in the hallway, thus allowing the world to see “I hate Muslim.”

As I write this, I may cry.

I cannot put a precise word to the offense, not and -ism nor a -ity. I am an immigrant myself. I came to the U.S. for opportunities, but I did not descend from a primitive culture. I was not miserable in my country. I did not suddenly become a patriot by discovering the joys of voting and Christmas trees. We are not richer here, nor are we better fed. And this is coming from a citizen of one of the poorest countries in the world!

And yes, I love it here. I really do. I am incredibly grateful for the opportunities and options and freedoms. But some actions still frustrate me. I don’t understand why Davy Crockett, who killed a great number of “Injuns” and boasted without shame, is glorified and studied in elementary school. I can’t understand the joys of Columbus Day. I don’t approve of simplistic books that glorify the founding fathers and “Injun killers” while omitting their faults and racist ways.

Our society begins with the children, and they are the first to whom we must direct solutions to social issues. Yet the education system is still entrenched in outdated methods and ideas. One of the first lessons preschoolers internalize is still the difference between “Miss” and “Mrs.” That makes me sad. Sad because so many children need help, because the educational system needs help.
Only when children stop writing “I hate Muslim” on school projects can we say that we’ve made progress in combating the ills of the world -- racism, ethnocentrism, and the biggest baddest one, ignorance.