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GREENSBORO — It’s tough enough for us adults to talk about it, even on the eve of a big anniversary that changed our city.

But for kids? In elementary school?

They’ve stepped into character, sat down with their parents and explored the meaning of white hoods, “Colored Only’’ signs and the mindset of a blonde waitress who told a black college student sitting at a lunch counter, “We can’t serve your kind.’’

And that whole conversation kinda started with a banana split. Or really Carole Boston Weatherford’s idea of a banana split.

She’s an award-winning children’s author from High Point who’s written 35 books about a variety of topics including jazz and baseball. And Feb. 1, 1960 — the day when four N.C. A&T students stood up for their rights by sitting down.

At F.W. Woolworth. In downtown Greensboro.

Weatherford titled her book, “Freedom on the Menu,’’ and she came to Lindley Elementary last week to read from her 2005 book and continue Lindley’s parent-child exploration into an ugly chapter of our country’s history when exclusion was determined by the shade of your skin.

We know the story. And next week, we know that F.W. Woolworth will reopen as the International Civil Rights Center & Museum on the 50th anniversary of what’s known as the Greensboro Sit-Ins, an event that helped change America.

But to hear kids tell it, that’s a little different. Take Dennis Schneider, the boy with the bangs.

“Who made the crazy rule that black people can’t eat at the counter?’’ Dennis asked his mom. “I don’t get it.’’

Dennis’ 460 classmates received Weatherford’s book, paid for by federal funds. They read it in class, shared it with their parents and started conversations about uncomfortable concepts they couldn’t really grasp.

Segregation. Inequality. Discrimination. Hate.

Last week, they ate sundaes, marched in the gym and attended a play produced by fifth-graders. A few even read the book in front of the museum. But they all listened to Weatherford tell them about the little girl named Connie.

She’s the African American girl in “Freedom on the Menu.’’ And Connie wanted to do one thing — to eat a banana split at the lunch counter where her brother’s friends from A&T sat down and asked to be served.

Dennis’ classmates get that.

“She’s a little girl who looks like me,’’ says Alayna Johnson, a Lindley third-grader. “And I feel sad, and I feel angry, and I learned that sometimes it’s good to break the law.

“If Connie can’t go the school she wants or eat a banana split where she wants, that’s just wrong.’’

You hear that a lot lately at Lindley.

Like in the library.

Fifth-graders had created a replica of Woolworth’s lunch counter among the book shelves so they could act out a play based on “Freedom on the Menu.’’

They had a rotary phone, sundae glasses, plastic ice cream, a poster-board menu and “Colored Only’’ and “Whites Only’’ signs taped to upended gym mats.

And there they practiced. And heard the line.

“I’m sorry,’’ said a fifth-grader in character. “We can’t serve your kind.’’

“Oooooooooooo,’’ responded another fifth-grader out of character. “Oh, no you didn’t!’’

“OK,’’ Lindley’s PE teacher Selassie Amana told his actors. “Let’s remember the time!’’

In Cindy Peters’ fourth-grade class, her students are still angry.

Peters announced a pop quiz, passed out stickers to a few students and gave them 100s for their work, no questions asked. The others without a sticker? Their tests got tossed in the trash, no questions asked.

“I’m going home to tell my mother!’’ said one student.

“I thought you liked me, Ms. Peters!’’ said another.

Another didn’t say a word. She just broke her pencil.

Peters’s lesson? The pain of discrimination.

“This is all a part of our history, but they (my students) have no connection to the past,’’ she said. “Yet, this could make it real for them. It’s not just a book. It’s life-long learning that will stick with them.’’

Time will tell. But right now, parents and kids are talking about something that can be incredibly tough.

Fifth-grader Chris Byrd heard about this hate group, approached his mom and wrote his question on a scrap of paper: “What are those people in the white hoods?’’

Fourth-grader Zoe Walker kept asking her parents questions about Woolworth, the sit-ins and her hometown and kept coming to the same conclusion: “I can’t believe people were treated that way.’’

Fifth-grader Nijah Poteat just heard a story. From her dad.

Her father, Edwin “Mac” Poteat, told her about marching at UNC-Chapel Hill in the late 1960s to support black cafeteria workers on strike. He sang a protest song and stared down cops in riot gear, inches from his face.

Four decades later, he still can sing that protest song, in full voice, word for word.

“It’s important for my children to learn about all that, to stand up for themselves because I’ve taught them that everybody is equal when they stand before God,’’ he says.

“But let’s face it, there’s a lot of slavery in the world and a lot of inequality, and I want my children — all daughters — to be strong and courageous in every situation.’’

Now, back to the boy with the bangs.

“Let’s imagine if you were black,’’ Dennis Schneider told me. “Back then, you couldn’t drink at a water fountain, couldn’t eat at a lunch counter, you had to sit at the back of the bus and you saw all kinds of signs.

“But now, you can eat dinner wherever you want, drink at any water fountain and you can sit anywhere on a bus,’’ he says. “You get to share with people, and when you share, you get to talk.

“I don’t care about that other stuff. I just care that they’re nice.’’

Contact Jeri Rowe at 373-7374 or jeri.rowe@news-record.com.