It was like telling a fairy tale -- not the pretty, fluffy, Disney kind, but one written by the brothers Grimm, the kind where everyone knows that all the characters will be dead in the end.
A long time ago, in a land far away, lived a man named Harvey Milk...
It all started a few weeks ago. My oldest son's second-grade class started a unit on civil rights. As the capstone to the unit, the students were going to write essays on a civil rights leader of their choice. Because the teacher knew that she has a gay student in her class (my kid), she added Harvey Milk to the list of potential essay subjects. When the list came home, we went through the choices, and my son zeroed in on Harvey Milk. Harvey Milk fought for the rights of gay people, and that's who he wanted to write about.
I have to admit that I was thrilled -- thrilled that his teacher is so awesome that she thought to put Milk on the list, thrilled that my kid picked Milk all on his own, and even more thrilled when I learned that the kids were going to be allowed to dress up as their subjects as part of their report (oh, the cuteness!).
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