by Ben Tigert
Since she had started kindergarten at Robert Kadin Preschool, Sarah McKinley knew she was different. She was a great kid. Any parent would love to have a child like her. And because of this, despite their differences, Sarah had gotten along well with her classmates. That is, until a rainy Monday morning in October.
Sarah McKinley ran home crying. Her father saw her as she sped through the living room.
"Sarah, what's wrong?," asked Michael, her dad.
"The kids at school are being mean to me," she sobbed.
"How? Did they say mean things?" He asked.
"Yes," Sarah whimpered.
"Like what?" her father inquired.
But despite repeated proddings, she would not tell him. Michael finally gave up and said, "Maybe you'll want to talk to Mom when she gets home?"
Sarah just cried and went to her room.
Marianne McKinley finally came home after a long evening of grocery shopping. She had worked in her garden all morning, done laundry all afternoon, and remembered the groceries at about 2:30. Michael told her about Sarah and suggested Marianne go talk to her. She did, and after about an hour of tears and talking, Sarah finally explained her problem.
"We knew we shouldn't have done this."
"But we both knew it was best for Sarah."
"Maybe when she was two, the girl's about to turn six for heaven's sake! Can you imagine what this could do to her self esteem?"
"That's why we have the best therapist in town."
"Yes, I know. But can he even do anything about this? You know how people look at us, and what they say behind our backs, what about the child? What have we done, Marianne?"
"I'm not giving this up, Michael. You know me, and I will stand by what is right."
"But what about the kids at school? We can't have her running home in tears every day!"
"I'll talk to the headmaster first thing in the morning. I'll see if he'll help us."
"But even if he can, it'll just be postponing..."
"We'll just take this as it comes. I can't give in. Please don't make me."
"I won't, I just want what's best for us. For all of us."
"I know."
They cried.
Tuesday at 7:45 AM, Marianne Mckinley sat down with James Brogan, headmaster of the preschool.
"But what about the ACLU? Is this even legal?"
"Please Dr. Brogan, help us. We can't have our daughter living like this."
"I believe you should have thought about that before you did this to her. Oh, very well then. I'll have Ms. Andrews speak with them this afternoon."
"Thank you so much, Dr. Brogan! You have no idea how much this means to us!"
"I can imagine. I've done crazy things before too. Good day."
"Good day."
At 1:15 that afternoon, Gloria Andrews gathered her class around her desk.
"Children, this is Sarah. You all know Sarah, don't you?"
A chorus of "yes, ma’am”s rang out.
"She says you've been teasing her because her family is different than yours, is this true?"
Again, the little voices were affirmative.
"Well, Sarah's family is a bit different. You see, Sarah has a mommy and a daddy."
A wave of gasps passed across the tiny audience.
"Quiet, children. Now, I know you're not used to this, but that doesn't mean you should tease her. Just because you have two daddies or two mommies or one mommy doesn't make you better than her. And it gives you no right to tease her. Do you understand?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good, now go on outside. It's time for recess."
Gloria Andrews waited for all the children to leave. She then collapsed on her desk, laughing too hard to sit up. The thought of a mother and father. Marriage? She could hardly breathe.