Ninjas vs. bunnies (or, community education takes an unexpected turn)

The following is the second of three stories that I wrote as part of my Girl Scout Silver Award report. To give you some background, my project, called 'Bun on the Run' was to teach different Girl Scout troops about rabbit care (i.e., don't keep them in hutches, please spay and neuter, yes, rabbits can be litter trained, etc.) In total, I brought the class to the meetings of well over 100 girls. But because animals and small children were involved, it was inevitable that there would be some, ah, "memorable moments," like the one that follows.

#2: Teenage Mutant Ninja Bunnies

I think that many girls who do their Silver Award do at least one thing that they have never done before, never in their wildest dreams imagined they would do, and hope never to do again. Each of these experiences is unique, memorable, and completely weird. Having said that, I think mine could easily top the experiences under this category of many, many Silver Award veterans.

As part the Bun on the Run program, I always had the girls take a look at one of the rabbit pens I had set up, and ask them what they saw in it. They would all look, and as they told me each object that they saw, I would explain what the rabbit used it for and why.

After they had a rough idea of what a rabbit needed in his or her enclosure, I would ask the girls what they thought you shouldn't put in a rabbit’s cage. This was a list that reliably included, depending on the group, “plastic toys,” “poisonous plants,” or, the ever-popular “things the bunny could choke on and die.”

This is why I was fairly unprepared when, on an evening in early May, I had this talk with a Brownie troop, or more specifically a Brownie troop including one particular Brownie, sitting in the back of the group with her blond hair in a ponytail.

The conversation went something like this:

Me, to troop: “What do you all think I shouldn’t put in a rabbit’s cage?” *hands are raised. I call on Girl 1.*

Girl 1: “A Barbie doll!”

Me: “That’s right. The rabbit would get sick from chewing on it, and your doll probably wouldn’t look so good anymore besides. What else should you not put in a rabbit’s cage?” *hands are raised. I call on Girl 2.*

Girl 2: “Anything rubber!”

Me: “Exactly! The bunny would get really sick from eating rubber. What else?” *hands are raised. I call on Girl 3, who is bouncing up and down in her seat, making faint ‘ooh, ooh!’ sounds.*

Girl 3: “Things the bunny could choke on and die!”

Me: “Exactly right! I think that stands for itself. What else shouldn’t go in a rabbit’s cage?” *hands are raised. I call on Brownie with Blond Ponytail.*

Brownie with Blond Ponytail (and slight smirk on her face): “A highly-trained ninja.”

Now, at first this may not seem that bad. While this answer is a bit awkward to respond to in a group of young kids, particularly when you were expecting an answer like “candy” or “poisonous plants,” it is a no-brainer that highly trained ninjas should not go in a rabbit’s cage. But then another girl pipes up and asks me “What is a highly trained ninja?” Fifteen pairs of eyes turn towards me expectantly.

I am caught by surprise. The Brownies’ parents are watching me. I look behind me at my two volunteers for support. One of my friends is politely trying to stifle a laugh, and the other is not looking at me and seemingly very amused by something on her shoelaces.

“Um, a highly-trained ninja is a person who punches people for a living,” I say to the group of impressionable young children.

Before that moment, I never imagined for a minute that doing a Silver project about animal shelters and bunny rabbits would lead me, through various twists and turns, to explaining to a group of wide-eyed, innocent seven year olds what a ‘highly-trained ninja’ was. As policy, I do not think exposing children to violence is that great of an idea.

Yet somehow, I admire that girl with the blond ponytail, who caused me to be in such an awkward situation. She demonstrated an ability to voice her opinion, no matter how strange an opinion it was. Perhaps she will grow up to be an artist, or a highly successful politician. And why not admit it, she reminds me of myself when I was seven.

~Naddie