Exceptional Dealing with brutal honesty Lessons in the Key of Life : Kindergarteners and Fashion by Rachelle Allen

What I learned years before as a dance teacher was cemented forever in my mind when I started teaching piano: five-year-olds have a unique sense of couture and are most generous about sharing it.   No White Shoes After Labor Day; No Black Hats in October One day, in mid-October, wearing my favorite hat, a dramatic, broad-brimmed black number that always made me feel tres chic and uber-glamorous, I left the house to deliver some music to a friend of one of my piano families . The five-year-old of the house answered the door, then gawked at me and exclaimed, "Hey! I'm going to be a witch for Halloween, too! You look just like a witch." She was very impressed. Her mother arrived at the door just then, an understated, salt-of-the-earth kind of woman who, I sensed, went out of her way to avoid impropriety at all times. Horrified by what she'd just heard, she leaped in to repair the damage she felt had been done. "Er...um....uh....I think she means she likes your HAT," she offered brightly, probably praying the ground would swallow her up at once. Her daughter scowled up at her. "Nooooo. I mean she looks like a witch." She peered at me with squinted eyes.. "See how she has that wild, messy hair and that long, pointy nose? And she is wearing a BLACK HAT!" I broke in with a smile, "But I'm a nice witch. I like children; I don't eat them or anything. And look out there," I continued, pointing to the driveway. "That's my car. I don't even ride a broom." She stood on tippy-toes to follow my extended arm and said, "Oh!" in a satisfied tone. She scampered away, unceremoniously, leaving her traumatized mother to carry on. But the poor woman had no words. Rather, she let her quivering lip and ashen pallor speak for her as her eyes beseeched me with horror and stress. "I'm a teacher." I gave her a reassuring smile. "So I haven't had an ego in a very long time. What just happened here I find hilarious, and it will be one of my most cherished stories forever." Actually, it's become my lifelong Halloween treat. Lesson: Honesty without malice is one of the greatest treasures anyone can bestow.   Captain of the Fashion Police "What's your favorite holiday?" I asked five-year-old Kelly one day at her lesson. "Christmas and Halloween." "Oh yes, Halloween is one of my favorites, too," I agreed. "Well, of course YOU like Halloween," she scoffed. "That's because you're always wearing costumes." "I am?" I asked, taken quite aback. "Well, yeah!" she said, Her tone conveyed a silent 'duh!' "You've got those leopard costumes --you've got a lot of those-- and then you've got those plastic ones." "Plastic?" I echoed, starting to shrink down a bit in my chair now. "Yeah, you know--that black plastic mini skirt and jacket and then that red plastic mini skirt and jacket?" "Leather?" I offered in a borderline whimper. "WHATever." She rolled her eyes. "And what about all those hats you wear? Those are costumes." "Um, yeah, I get it, Kelly." I opened her folder, trying to regain some dignity. "And then there's those millions of pairs of different high heels you have." She was unstoppable. "OKAYYYYYY!" I honked. "Let's get down to work here already." Lesson: (a) Honesty without malice may have to be in limited doses to be quite as cherished a commodity. (b) If you ever need a reality check about your appearance, ask a five-year-old. NEXT: The Saturday Morning Curse Recognized

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