Lessons in Tolerance From Children’s Literature

There were Dr. Seuss’ Sneetches, who got into a frightful mess because the Star-Belly Sneetches snubbed the Plain-Belly Sneetches, the Star-Bellies declaring themselves “the best kind of Sneetches on the beaches.”

And there were the Holocaust artifacts--the striped concentration camp uniforms, the gas canisters, a little card on which was written a chilling camp saying: “You came in through the gates, you go out through the chimney.”

Each, in its own way, put the message across to 31 youngsters from North Park Elementary School in San Bernardino, a rainbow of white and black and brown faces, who’d come to the Simon Wiesenthal Museum of Tolerance under its 3-year-old “Steps to Tolerance” program for fifth-and sixth-graders.

To learn about the evils of bigotry and racism and hatred, they first toured the museum, pausing in front of a wooden bunk bed on which more than half a century ago Jews at Majdanek concentration camp in Poland had been forced to sleep three and four to a bunk, sharing one blanket. No pillows? No sheets? No food? To these youngsters, it was almost inconceivable.

Next stop: “Every Picture Tells a Story,” an interactive exhibit of artwork from children’s books that teach that being different is OK. There, actress Natalia Nogulich read from “The Sneetches,” where in the end “all the Sneetches forgot about stars, and whether they had one, or not, upon thars.”

The exhibit area is a kid-friendly space with squishy yellow chairs shaped like crescent moons. The children’s books, new and old, on the shelves speak to diversity, ethics, community and family--and striving to be the best you can be. “Just the Two of Us” by actor-Grammy winner Will Smith is about his relationship with his son, Trey.

There is a message from E.L. Konigsburg, two-time winner of the Newbery Medal for excellence in children’s literature, for “The View From Saturday” and “The Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler”:

” ... the difference between being a person of talent and being a writer is the ability to apply the seat of your pants to the seat of your chair, and finish.”

There is a lesson in perseverance from the career of Dr. Seuss (Theodor Geisel), who was rejected by 28 publishers as “too different” before Vanguard took a chance on his first children’s book, “To Think I Saw It on Mulberry Street.”

Turned loose in the exhibit area, the girls gravitated to “Debbie’s Dance Studio,” several wiggling into pastel tutus and spinning around on the wooden floor. Just as Debbie Allen, whose book, “Dancing in the Wings,” inspired this installation, might have done at their age.

The boys were more interested in “Jordan’s Playground,” a setup complete with basketball hoop, wire fence and street signs. It was near where “Salt in His Shoes: Michael Jordan in Pursuit of a Dream,” a book written by his mother and sister, was displayed alongside a pair of tiny red sneakers.

The Allen and Jordan books, both illustrated by Kadir Nelson of San Diego, have a common thread: One is the story of a dancer who perseveres even though told she was too big to become a ballerina; the other is about a little boy who, told he was too short to play basketball, grew up to be a 6-foot, 6-inch superstar.

Other artwork in the exhibit depicts Little Tokyo, a mariachi band, gospel singers and Watts Towers. There’s Seuss and Sendak. Books with messages about the horrors of nuclear war and protecting the environment. It’s a far cry from the stuff on which these young museum-goers’ grandparents cut their literary teeth--”Look, Dick. Look, Jane.” There is Garth Williams’ art from E.B. White’s “Charlotte’s Web,” which tells of the friendship between Wilbur the pig and Charlotte the spider, and from White’s “Stuart Little,” in which a mouse comes into a human family and wins over one and all, even the family cat.

Earlier, in the museum proper, the kids had learned words such as “kristallnacht” and “dictatorship.” One group had sat in a circle on the floor with museum youth educator Kathryn Long, passing around a red Nazi armband with a swastika and Nazi-era trading cards with pictures of Adolf Hitler and Heinrich Himmler.

The propaganda cards had been distributed in cigarette packs in Nazi Germany. One child, never having seen facial hair quite like Hitler’s, scrutinized his photo and then asked, “What’s that black thing under his nose?”

Long showed them a yellow star like those Jews were forced to wear to identify and ostracize them and explained that it was a way of turning people against them, “sort of like if your mom or dad told you not to talk to anyone wearing green polka dots.”

She talked about Nazi uniforms and how they made men feel strong and powerful and “cool.” She asked the girls how they felt when they wore their uniforms for sports, but their answer was “dorky.” Well, said Long, they would feel different if those were Lakers uniforms.

More than two hours had passed, and it was time for the children to board their bus back to San Bernardino. What had they learned? What had intrigued them?

Candace Garcia, 10, and Alyssa Nordgren, 11, had learned “how mean the Nazis were to the Jews.” Alora Dodson, 11, was intrigued by the faded American flag with 56 stars, made by female prisoners at the Mauthausen, Austria, concentration camp to thank the Americans who liberated them. The women had guessed at the proper number of stars. And she’d learned “that there can be a lot of things that are different but can be the same.” Brittany Faz, 9, learned “that Hitler was a very selfish, mean man.” She’d heard of him but “didn’t know how he looked.” Tanisha Boston, 11, was wondering “how Hitler got all those people to listen to him.”

Said Leigha Ortiz, 11, “I think it’s terrible how things can just go wrong and people can be treated so cruelly. I can’t believe it.” The meanest thing anyone had ever done to her, she said, was to play a trick, “like pulling a chair out from under me.”

Joaquin Castillo, 10, liked the guns. Andrew Franks, 11, who identified himself as “Spanish, Indian and American,” liked “where they showed all the stuff they used to kill.” And he decided, “It wasn’t so good to live back then.”

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The changing exhibit, organized by Every Picture Tells a Story Gallery, is open to the public from 11:30 a.m. to 4 p.m. Monday through Thursday; 11:30 a.m. to 3 p.m. Friday; 11 a.m. to 5 p.m. Sunday. The museum, which is closed Saturday, is at 9786 W. Pico Blvd. There is an admission fee. Exhibit information: (310) 772-2452.