The other day a fourth-grade girl asked me why she said the Pledge of Allegiance in school every day.

I have been substitute teaching in Waterbury lately to augment the family income, and I have learned that anything that can possibly happen in a day will very likely happen in Waterbury; there are few surprises.

Still, this child caught me off my guard. Immediately, my eyebrows went up. These eyebrows descended from 13 generations of Americans who worked long and hard to make and keep home. We can count ancestors in the front lines of every war this country every fought. My ancestors, paid taxes, voted, and did their best. My parents, small children during the Second World War, can nonetheless remember food rationing, scrap metal drives, stars in windows, telegrams bearing the final word of a loved one. My father and so many of his friends did their time in the military as a matter of course as young men.

You stand by your family and friends, and you do whatever is required in the name of love and loyalty. You say the Pledge. You mention God because only under God can there be liberty and justice.

So my eyebrows went up. But there I was looking into the open face of a fourth-grader who had no idea about any of that, even if she lived in Waterbury, Connecticut--a town Ken Burns featured in his blockbuster documentary The War because it played such an important role in this country's efforts during World War II.

This was a teachable moment. This was an opportunity to teach this kid about the things that make this home--Waterbury--her home. I had about 30 seconds to say something that might make the pledge routine make sense.

I tried: "When you say the pledge, you promise to be a good friend. People in this country care about you. People in Waterbury, in Connecticut, and in the United States are working hard right now and giving some of the money they make so you can be in school all day and learn how to write and do long division, and have a good life. People care about you and want you to do well--and they don't know you any more than you know them. When you say the pledge, you're saying thank you."

I remember learning Connecticut history in fourth grade. I ate it up. What happened where and when came to me through my teacher. Why and how and to what good purpose I got from home. I hope this kid does, too.