Each morning without fail, young llhaesa would jump out of her parent’s transport and run into the kindergarten portion of the North 41 school building, leaving her mum behind to plod along at what to llhaesa was her mum’s snail-like adult pace. Even on her very first day, llhaesa had done such, and continued right on through every day thereafter.

On her first day, the exuberant child bound from the vehicle, stopped only long enough to ascertain no other transports moved in the area, and then headed for the building she had only been in for registration.

No wallflower or introvert was llhaesa, and no educator would use the word ‘passive’ in a sentence describing her. Saehressa, who was nowhere near as outgoing as llhaesa yet no wallflower, marvelled at the sheer energy and exuberant personality of her young child.

“She has no fear, this one!” Ms V’aesza, new to the school in the new academic year, remarked to Saehressa upon her finally making it through the doors of the classroom, where llhaesa busily assembled various toys and chairs into some sort of play home. In the middle of the play-home lay a miniature toy grand piano, about a third of a metre in size.

Llhaesa moved the piano askew, arranging it aesthetically within the play-home. “I can play a real one.” she quietly and casually remarked to another child.

“Really?” the young child responded, not certain he knew what the curious contraption would do – or what you would do with it.

The class contained an old upright piano, the gift of a family that moved from the area and could not take it with them. Ms V’aesza excused herself for a moment, walking over to llhaesa and crouching down to llhaesa’s eye level. “Llhaesa, would you care to play our piano?” she asked her new student.

Llhaesa looked around the room and failed to see a piano. Saehressa spoke up. “Llhaesa, it is a different kind of piano from what we have at home. This one stands upright. It is right over against that wall.” Saehressa finished by pointing in the general direction of the correct wall.

“Can I play, mum?” Pl-l-l-l-ease?” Llhaesa unnecessarily but excitedly teased.

“Of course you may, llhaesa. Ms V’aesza asked you if you wished to play, though you should first ask when she would like you to play.” Saehressa answered, drawing upon how manners and respect were important in the T’yaeli household.

“You may play now if you wish llhaesa.” Ms V’aesza consented.

“Thank you!” As with her entrance into the class, llhaesa was off to the piano at full speed, climbing up on the piano bench and lifting the cover. Now over a year into lessons, she was quite at home with what lie in front of her.

She began to play.

The other kids stopped what they were doing and watched their peer playing the whatever-that-thing-is-called-again. Slowly they gravitated towards llhaesa at the piano, staring in awe at what unfolded.

Saehressa looked at Ms V’aesza and had to stifle a strong urge to laugh. The instructor was as in awe of llhaesa’s play as her young students were. Figuring it might be best to explain, Saehressa offered, “I have played for most of my life, and I’ve both played and sang to llhaesa virtually every day since I first knew of my pregnancy.

She was enthralled with music from the first, and as you can see, it just came naturally to her.”

“Saehressa! That child is Gifted, with a capital G. Have you sought out tutoring or a school for children gifted in music?”

“V’aesza – may I call you by your given name?” Saehressa inquired before answering. Receiving an enthusiastic affirmation, she continued. “I teach music in this school part time. We are discussing what is best for her going forward; there is some… disagreement between my husband and me. He wishes her to attend a school that specialises in students gifted musically, such as Y’sre School of Music right down the road. I prefer she attend this school. Stay tuned!” Saehressa ended with a wink and a smirk.

At that point, another parent returned with supplies for her two young twins. She had forgotten the things in her rush to leave home for school. Her two children watched happily as llhaesa played, seemingly having fun listening to the music llhaesa created.

Saehressa saw the woman look over toward the piano, taking in how a child of the same age as her twins played melodically and naturally. The woman’s expression reformed into one of disapproval. Saehressa rightly sensed trouble was nigh.

Moving pre-emptively, she walked over to llhaesa, calling out ahead “OK llhaesa, time to let others have a turn if they wish.”

Llhaesa dutifully stopped playing and conceded the bench to another child, helping the struggling small child to climb onto the bench.

The disapproving woman spoke up to Saehressa and V’aesza. “You should not let that child play the piano. She is obviously a show off who wishes to make others think she is better than they are, and that will hurt the feelings of the other kids, probably make them reluctant to try to play!” As she spoke, her voice grew louder and angrier, but she paused for air, giving Saehressa time to interject a comment.

“I’m sorry if you feel your children are harmed by another child’s skills and achievements, Ms… pardon, I did not catch your name before. I am Saehressa T’yaeli, and llhaesa is my daughter.

You will find llhaesa is very respectful of other children as well as of adults, and she well knows other children will be better than she will be at other tasks. Our children have different strengths and weaknesses. We cannot hide from this, or pretend they do not exist. Diversity is the most precious of Arrhazonan attributes, and we should welcome that our children are different, that they will be free to achieve where they are best skilled and naturally inclined.” For her part, Saehressa was beginning to feel a little warm. She silently called upon Aailhra to guide her through this conversation.

“I suppose you are one of those equalists who believe women can do everything a man can do! I never!” the Angry Woman retorted, quite inclined to flash her anger to the other adults, prompting V’aesza to silently ponder how her students were better behaved than this woman talking with her and Saehressa. “It will be a long year,” she silently sighed.

Angry Woman attempted to continue, but stopped in her tracks as Saehressa swung her shoulder-strapped bag with a pin on the strap, one for a new organisation called Equal Rights, Equal Genders. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. You don’t feel equal?” Saehressa began to ask rhetorically, pausing and then continuing at the continued name-trap. “Ms… I am sorry once again, but I don’t recall your sharing your name.

Your outlook on equality helps explain why you think llhaesa harms other children by demonstrating her particular skill.

All children are equal, Ms… Anonymous. It matters not if they are my children, your children, or the children of any other parent. In addition, as an educator, it is vital I know every child’s strengths and weaknesses; what pushes their buttons; and what does not.

More than anything, children need love and encouragement. I doubt anyone would believe ‘encourage’ means holding back from giving your very best. Would you not agree? Or do you believe students should pretend not to be smart in class?”

Saehressa barely began the last sentence as Angry Woman stormed off for the exit. Standing their stunned and smirking at each other, Saehressa and V’aesza had just broken ice on a new friendship, one forged by an unwitting woman creating unnecessary drama on the very first day of school.