I'm very pleased that culture, ethnicity, race, and diversity are all such a big part of Early Childhood Education. It is important for children to grow up with diversity, and to understand the world for what it is: a big place where many different people who do and believe different things live and interact with each other, and where each one of these people is deserving of love, respect, and dignity.



We've spent quite a bit of time discussing racism and what creates conflict. But we've also discussed what culture is. Many people believe that culture represents some far away body of people who dress colorfully and have strange customs. This outdated way of thinking assigns the value of "thing" and "novelty" to a body of people, and it removes the concept of culture from the local area, family, and even the individual right here.

From the grandparents on down, things get a little crazy. With about 20-24 aunts and uncles, it was hard to keep our family tree small.

To explore this, we were challenged to look into our own families and discover the culture there. I've done some extensive research into my family history for other school projects, including the longest family tree I've ever seen, but this one stumped me for a bit. I couldn't let it stump me for too long because, well, all projects have their due date.

You see, my immediate family is a mix of races, and is predominantly Mexican-American and German. Neither of my grandparents are first generation immigrants, and in fact, neither are their grandparents. At some point the records stop, as records were not kept. This all means that our cultures have become very "Americanized."

We cling to parts of it, which is most evident in our cooking. I have done a few reports regarding some traditional recipes, which I will share later, but I wanted this project to reflect who we are, as we are now, even in the face of the realization that our culture has not been preserved as carefully as it should have been.

There were two individuals who died recently who were the "go-to" for what remained of these cultures. My Aunt died unexpectedly of pancreatic cancer in 2014, and my last remaining Grandma died earlier this year. They both sort of kept up the efforts of adhering to our cultural backgrounds, and when they died, that sort of went with them. I'll never again taste golumpki as my Grandma made it. I'll never be able to ask my Aunt the questions that I can only think of now.

Golumpki or polish pigs-in-a-blanket was a dish my Grandma rolled out for special occasions. I shall post about this assignment soon!

My Aunt's death hit many very hard because she was the matriarch of a very large family. I won't say we're all totally recovered. For a while everyone sort of wandered about a little aimlessly, trying to figure out what to do with themselves. When someone dies, a part of you goes with them. Suddenly, you have to figure out your life without that person there. My Aunt held it all together, and that was a responsibility that many found themselves suddenly saddled with after her death. But soon we magnetized together, and found ourselves at my little cousin's Shopkins themed party.

A Shopkins party. I don't get it but my little cousin did, so that's all that mattered.

The house was cramped with so many people stuck inside. Everything was covered in pink and purple Shopkins stuff. It was hot and the AC wasn't keeping up with everyone running in and out. People were yelling. People avoided eye contact. No one wanted to talk, and sort of stuck with their little groups. Everyone was wondering just what the heck Shopkins were (turns out they're tiny, plastic, store item themed anthropomorphic toys). We were miserable, even if the kids were having a blast with the inflatable pool and slide outside. But then it was time to bring out the cake and ice cream and no one was going to say no to that.

They put the Shopkins themed cake in front of the birthday girl and lit the candles, and suddenly everyone started singing.

Really badly.

I looked around wondering what the hell was going on, since this was all new to me. I'd just moved back from New Jersey, and was still in a funk about the changes in my life. I'd lost so many things, including my Aunt and Grandma, in such a short period of time, and these people were a reminder of loss. But the really bad singing brought the focus back in, like how you see in TV where the character kind of moves forward while the background moves back?

It was very grounding. Which was very weird.

I joined in, and my poor little cousin just looked around with a look that said we were all crazy, but at the same time, it was to be expected. After, we cut the cake and passed it around, and laughed about how nuts we all are.

My dad's 50th bday cake with a volcano, a rainbow cake, a Cookie Monster themed cake for a my brother-in-law, and a purple gluten free cake for me!

There was a rapid succession of birthdays since then, and at each one, there's been a crazy rendition of Happy Birthday. And of course with each song and birthday there was the usually handmade birthday cake, which some people put some crazy effort into. After the third or fourth one, all I could think was, "I hope they sing like this at my birthday."

And I realized that this was our cultural tradition. We're all so different, and all so completely crazy in a wonderful way. We may have been "Americanized", but there's something that can't be taken away with cultural integration. You can't remove the soul of a group like us. We're nuts. We're loud, we're eclectic, we don't think like you do, and we do things different. We wouldn't have it any other way!

The most ugly beautiful cake I've ever made. Which says a lot because while I am artistic, cakes are not my forte!

So I created a cake for the project. Four layers of King Arthur gluten free chocolate cake with Duncan Hines vanilla frosting and gluten free sandwich cookies from Glutino for effect. My sister and I created it, and topped it with some Ghiradelli chocolate ganache. It leaned, and it needed to be kept cool or it would melt. But I took it into class and did a small presentation on the cake and what it means. I then showed the below video of one of our birthdays.

Enjoy.



I can't say our family is healed from the tragic events. I don't know if I am healed completely. But I am glad we've found a way to enjoy each other, and to celebrate who we are. It's not merely picking up the pieces remaining and trying to make something of it. I think it has to do with finding who we are as each piece is chipped away, and honoring each part of our exposed soul as it comes to light.