When I was young my father thought it necessary to "educate" me. It was a true education in all senses of the word. He thought that it was wrong to lie to your children, even if it was about Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny. He felt like once a child figures out, inevitably from friends at school, that their own parents were lying to them about something as innocuous as the Easter Bunny, it would erode their faith in all that their parents had ever, or would ever tell them.
Okay, so I'm being a little dramatic, but he figured it was better that the truths of the world start out coming from a child's parents instead of the other little kids at school. I was grateful for this actually and felt that the other children deserved to know.
My father had also educated me, in my five year old reality, that it was not my place to tell the other children at school, but I paid no attention to this part. I think I must have envisioned myself as a first-grade Moses. I was freeing "my people," in reality my first grade peers. This was how my life as an opinionated girl began, with phone calls home about how I made my entire first grade class cry.