The following exchange took place between myself and a soon-to-be 3rd grader, while we waited outside a classroom for her turn to audition for placement in her orchestra next year in the un-air-conditioned third-floor hallway of a school on the Upper West Side. We'll call her Bonnie. She is about three feet tall and has just upgraded from a 1/8-size to a 1/4-size cello.
Bonnie: What are you?
Me: What do you mean, what am I?
Bonnie: Like, are you Catholic?
Me: Oh. No.
Bonnie: So what are you?
Me: I'm Jewish. Sort of.
Bonnie: I knew it!
I remember being her age and answering similar questions, only back then I knew right away what was being asked. And back then the answer was always much more glamorous: "I'm both." Meaning both Jewish and Christian (this being before the day of my mother's conversion and my Bat Mitzvah), and therefore the envy of all present-coveting children. I guess I'm just surprised that a decade and a half later, kids are still asking each other and their elders the same question. (I didn't ask what it was that gave me away as Jewish to a 7-year-old.)
A going-into-5th-grade flute player who we'll call Iggy had a similar question about the building we were in. Iggy's flute is the only one I've ever seen with a curved mouthpiece, as his arms are too short to reach all of the keys.
Iggy: (scratching his head, looking around at the artwork decorating the hallway) What kind of school is this?
Me: It's a Catholic school.
Iggy: Isn't there separation of church and state?
Me: (I laugh very loudly.)
Iggy: (shrugging) Well, I guess some people don't abide by it.
I tried to explain that there are actually a lot of religious schools, for all different religions, and that it's okay as long as they don't get money from the state. He seemed to get it.
Iggy: Oh. So it's not illegal, then.
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