Why the Circus?

The children inched forward and waited patiently for their instructions.

I told them to sit a circle. “Siéntese en un circo” rolled off my lips with a confident—but unmistakably gringo—accent.

They gaped at me as if they didn’t know which shape I was talking about. I gave my instructions again, but got nowhere.  “Please sit in a circle,” I repeated, “Por favor, siéntese en un circo.”

Neither my tone of voice nor my towering presence, as I rose from the chair, had any effect.

“Siéntese en un circo!” My voice reached an authoritative pitch they could not ignore, regardless of my accent. These children either didn’t know the shape of a circle, or were some of the most ill-behaved children I had ever met.

I condescendingly turned to the two little boys sitting closest to me, one in his red shirt and the other picking at the corner of his chair, and asked if they knew what a “circo” looked like. They stared back at me blankly.

A little girl slowly arose and whispered in my ear. The rest of the group watched and held their breath in anticipation. A light came on in my head and my pride hit the floor as this precious little 6-year-old cupped her hand around me ear,

“Mr. Blair, ‘circo’ means circus.”