The World is Yours To Change

This week I was invited to speak at a local private school about modern day slavery. They have been studying Indian philosophy and religion in their Humanities program for seventh graders. The teacher, so very wise and open minded, thought that I should do a presentation on my trip, discussing the social issues I had encountered while volunteering with The Emancipation Network. Considering India and Africa host most of the world's 27 million slaves, I thought this to be a wonderful opportunity. But this was the first time I was actually addressing the issue of trafficking and slavery in a classroom that wasn't a teen youth group, high school or college.  To this point, when I did presentations for the under thirteen crowd, we talked about courage and global oneness.  This was new and I was feeling quite tentative. Even though I'd consulted the teacher several times in advance over email with questions like “Are you sure I can say (insert difficult subject matter for children) to your class? Each time she assured me that these stories and stats must be shared.

When I arrived, I felt the sudden urge to show pictures of gorgeous Darjeeling landscapes, pass around rupees, talk about jet lag, and teach them to say “I love you” in Bengali. I wanted to protect them. After all, the students were twelve and thirteen years old having study hall on a Monday afternoon. Who am I to show up right after their great debate about what foreign language is the “funnest” and dump modern day slavery on them? Who am I to interrupt plans for after school walks, drama practice, and lacrosse games with my heartbreaking tales of child prostitution? Who am I to think these bright, privileged American tweens and teens would have the heart or attention span for suffering children they don't even know across the world? Silly, silly, silly me.

I start slowly, introducing myself, TEN, the cause, the facts about modern day slavery. I talk about why I was motivated to travel to India, some experiences, and consumer responsibility. They're silent. I continue. I talk about global oneness, basic needs and birthrights, I share a passage from a blog entry. They're engaged. I explain the photos that I've brought and other trinkets from my trip. I open the discussion. A hand flies up, “Have you read Sold by Patricia McCormick? It seems like this is the same thing you are talking about.” I validate this and assume there is one sophisticated girl in the class, though I see nods of agreement. It seems that perhaps, they've all read it or at least heard of it. Another hand, and the questions fly, “I watched the movie Slumdog Millionaire, did you encounter child beggars working as slaves?” And, “Do you think this movie was important because it reached a mainstream audience?” Another student, “I would have liked this movie more if I knew it wasn't really happening in the world.” I'm in love. I don't want the period to end. I want to stay all day. They want to know what the fair trade symbol looks like, so they can be sure to advise their parents. They want to know how to boycott stores and companies associated with child labor. They tell me stories about recycling their laptops and cell phones since the source of materials to create their “toys” causes war in Africa. They make observations about extreme poverty around major tourist destinations during their trips to Paris and Egypt. They want a guarantee that one person can start a revolution. A chatty, intelligent boy approaches me after class and ask how to make a donation. They – get – it.

And I really want to credit their parents, their educators, the company they keep for allowing such curious minds to blossom. For allowing difficult topics to be presented and open for critical discussion, without moving away or shifting to soften the blow of reality. For exposing these students to the world, diverse experiences, and the freedom to make choices and think for themselves. But more than anything, I want to give a shout out to the spirit of growing children. To the age when anything seems possible. When standing up against injustice is instinctive. When asking “What can I do?” rolls off the tongue without hesitation. When emotion is raw and it's alright to feel the sting and acceptable to bask in the joy. The naivety of childhood behind, the carefulness of adulthood ahead - right smack in the middle of it all - knowing the world is yours to change. And on this day, in these moments, I gladly offer that challenge. The world is yours to change. They accept without even uttering a word. Congratulations world, you are now in very good hands.