Pretty And Handsome

I said, "Today, I'm going to be pretty."

Claire teased me, "You can't be pretty, Teacher Tom. You're a boy."

"I'm not a boy, I'm a man," I said with mock defiance, "and if I want to be pretty I can be pretty." 

She thought about that for a moment, then said, "Men are not pretty, men are handsome."

Cecelia said, "She's right, Teacher Tom, boys are handsome and girls are pretty."

"But I don't want to be handsome, I want to be pretty."

They shook their heads, looking at one another. Cecelia shrugged as if to say, That's just the way it is.

Claire said, sweetly, "Handsome is just pretty for boys. You are handsome, Teacher Tom."

"I am?"

"All the boys are handsome," she replied, making a sweeping gesture toward the playground.

I asked, "And are all the girls pretty?"

"Yes, we're all pretty."

I was thinking that this was a generous perspective, when she added, "See? Abigail's wearing a sparkly skirt. That's pretty."

Cecelia said, "I'm wearing a headscarf."

Claire nodded, "That's pretty. And Frances has hearts on her shirt. All the girls are pretty and all the boys are handsome."

Having straightened me out, the girls went on their way. I thought about what they had told me, asserting that pretty isn't an innate quality, but rather something you put on and take off; something you choose on a day by day basis. Every girl who wants to be pretty is pretty. Not bad, even if they weren't allowing for boys to be pretty.

Calvin had been listening to our conversation. I turned to him and said, "Claire said we're all handsome. I think that means I'm as handsome as your dad."

Without missing a beat, he replied, "You haven't seen him in his suit."

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