The first thing we learned is that shock absorbers on school buses don't even begin to cushion the effects of New York's potholes. We were jiggled and jolted all the way from Chambers Street in lower Manhattan to the gray granite museum complex on Broadway at 155th Street.

The kids had barely recovered from the ride; had barely gotten up the museum steps and past the very appealing gift shop; had barely finished standing on tiptoes looking inside the dioramas of miniature Eastern Woodland Indians hoeing corn and hanging up slices of meat to dry; and had just started to get hyper over the display of peace pipes when an unusual-looking man appeared. He said, "The musical performance is about to begin" and made a gesture that indicated he wanted everyone to sit down.

From the look on Miss Mauro's face, we could tell that she hadn't planned on this at all. But she said "Okay," and twelve kids, two teachers and three moms sat down on the wooden floor in a semicircle, just like the man asked, in front of a small portable platform. A sign on the wall read, "Native American Arts Program."

The man had gray-tinged dark brown hair in two braids that hung down to the middle of his chest. He was wearing silver-rimmed aviator glasses and small gold earrings, dark green sweatpants, a white T-shirt with a splashy red, black and yellow eagle design, and black nylon running shoes. Around his ankles were wide brown leather bands with rows of the kind of silver bells Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer wears around his neck.

He sat down on a folding chair in the middle of the platform, looked around and smiled. "Hi, everyone," he said. "My name is Mixashawn Rozie and I'm a Mohegan from the Connecticut River Valley. My people, Native Americans, have been under European rule for three hundred and fifty years. For a long time we were forbidden to speak our own language. Do any of you know why we were called Indians?" A tall boy named Alex raised his hand and answered, "Because Columbus thought he was going to India."

"That's right," Mr. Rozie said. "Every year we celebrate a holiday that's about how Columbus made a mistake." All twelve kids, two teachers, and three moms looked at each other and nodded as if to say, "Hmmm, that IS strange."

Then Mr. Rozie picked up a reed flute and said, "My people like to make a circle of sound to honor all life. We believe that all life -- people, animals, fish, birds -- are related. I'm going to make a circle of sound for you." He closed his eyes, put the flute to his lips, and began to play, shaking his ankles and tapping his heels so the bells became his rhythm section. A circle of beautiful sound filled the room, and everyone smiled and settled back to listen.

"Whales and dolphins bring us messages from the sea that might not be in English," he continued, and began to sing and play what he called a dolphin song. Although the words sounded like grunts and squeaks, his voice was warm and pure. Looking like the Greek god Pan, he played two flutes, one coming out of each side of his mouth.

After the dolphin song, the children had many questions, especially about whether Mr. Rozie knew the words in English. "No, undersea life only communicates in its own language," he said. When the children asked questions, they sometimes used the word "Indian" instead of "Native American," and he gently corrected them.

Then he took out an octagonal drum with a tan leather cover and two drumsticks with padded leather tips. He said, "Now we'll do a participation song." He taught everyone the words, which sounded like:

he group practiced a few times and sang along as he performed the song in several different tempos and styles, including jazz and rock variations. It didn't surprise us to learn that he tours Europe with a jazz combo when he's not performing for schools, TV documentaries, and on Sesame Street.

He ended his performance by saying, "Sometimes music makes you feel that you can fly." It looked as if Paula, a girl in the class who has cerebral palsy and uses a wheelchair, agreed wholeheartedly with him. Paula can't talk, but her face lit up like a brilliant sky as she clapped and clapped.

Maybe, for a little while, Mixashawn Rozie helped Paula feel like she could fly.