It only rarely occurs to me how I take for granted my cultural heritage. I really don’t think about my knowledge of Plymouth rock, about pilgrims and indians celebrating the first Thanksgiving. I had memories of making pilgrim hats and indian head-dresses in school. It’s just never occurred to me the my children don’t have the same memories.
This week Madision, my second grade daughter, has come home wide-eyed with stories of pilgrims and indians. She’s never heard the stories. Oh, we celebrated Thanksgiving each year in Kosovo, but Madison never heard the stories, never made Pilgrim hats, never saw pictures of the first Thanksgiving…until this year.
I’m always surprised when I realize that my kids really are growing up to be “third culture kids.” I know it intellectually, but the reality is discovered with each new season.