My friend from Arkansas has a daughter who teaches first grade. Last month, her class did a video call with a first-grade class in my parents' town. I went to translate. Show and tell. Japan went first. A boy showed his school backpack. Thirty kids in Arkansas said "WHOA." He bowed. A girl showed a pencil case with 11 buttons. Arkansas asked if it could fly. A boy showed a rhinoceros beetle. Half of Arkansas screamed. The other half wanted one. Then Arkansas. A girl showed a baby goat. Live, on her mom's phone, from the farm. Japan lost its mind. A boy showed the gap in his teeth and explained that the Tooth Fairy pays five dollars. In Japan, you throw your tooth on the roof or under the house. You get nothing. Japan felt robbed. The last boy was quiet. He held up a triangle of cloth. Blue, with white stars. He said it was his grandpa's. They gave it to his grandma at the funeral. He's allowed to hold it on special days. This was a special day. The Japanese kids looked at me. I explained, as simply as I could: in America, when someone has served their country, the flag is folded like that and given to the family. Nobody said anything. Then a girl in the front row stood up and bowed to the screen. The deep one. Then the whole class stood up and bowed. In Arkansas, thirty first graders didn't know what to do. So they stood up too, and bowed back. Every speed. Every angle. One fell over. The quiet boy didn't bow. He just held the flag a little higher.