My earliest memories of race go back to kindergarten, in my Baptist primary school. There I received a fundamentalist Christian education and learned to be color-blind, singing cute children's songs such as the one above, extolling Jesus's love for all people regardless of race. In the second grade, I had an African-American teacher, which did not strike me as unusual at all. In fact, I thought nothing of it, nor did I particularly think about the race of the handful of African-American classmates I had as a young lad. We weren't a particularly religious family though, and my father often remarked later that I had been brainwashed by attending a Christian school, where I was taught the same moral code every modern member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints would recognize as their own, right down to the proscriptions on drinking and smoking.