Using my Facebook feed as a rough indicator, most Americans spent the week alternating from deep sadness to horrific rage over Newtown. I have been no exception and have fluctuated between tearing when hugging my daughter at the school gate to becoming a fireball of anger upon reading news out of America from certain pro-gun elements (see for example anything related to the Utah congressional delegation refusing to consider a ban on assault weapons).
Then I found my “Personal Jesus”: twenty happy and uninhibited school children dancing to their favorite song.
I spent half-an-hour with these kids playing musical statues as part of the “anything goes” run-up to the school holiday break. The children were already buzzing with pre-Christmas excitement, and the gym teacher putting on “Gangnam Style” sent them over the moon with joy. Watching them prance around the room doing the silly horse dance while all uniformly beaming with unbridled glee was my happiest moment of the year. (Yes, I danced with them, fake rodeo lasso move and all.)
These twenty small children are from a hodgepodge of countries and ethnic backgrounds but they never really seem to notice. They are too young, and too international perhaps, to mind that they all celebrate different holidays, eat different foods and consider different corners of the world to be “home.”
Right now they think a chubby Korean nerd is the best thing going. They don’t understand what happened on the other side of the world in Newtown. They just want to dance.
My deepest gratitude to these children for letting me completely and happily “live in the moment” with them for a small slice of one morning.