Given the right guidance, children love to find ways to help during a crisis. They will raise money through lemonade stands to send to earthquake victims. They'll organize and contribute to charity drives at school. They have an impulse to reach out and give.

But it can take a while before they realize their political muscle.

Earlier this year, my son's kindergarten class was outraged when their librarian, Debbie, told them about a news report about a proposed road to be built through the Serengeti plains in Africa. They were worried about what this road would do to the animals in the plains. Debbie suggested they write a letter to the president of Tanzania sharing their concerns. They jumped on that idea.

In January, they sent a letter to the president that began: Jambo! Hello! They dictated the collective letter to Debbie. It said, in part:

"Our librarian, Debbie, told us about the road that will go through the Serengeti Plain. We are worried for the animals and their safety. The Great Migration of wildebeest and zebra will be disturbed. We are worried about poachers and pollution. We think it would be much better to dig up the mud for coltan and drive it on a southern road around the Serengeti. The animals that live in the Serengeti are our favorites and we don't want them to get killed. We would like to grow up and visit the beautiful Serengeti Plain and you, Mr. President. Love and peace, The Kindergarten Class of 2011."

Each child signed the letter and drew a picture of his or her favorite animal native to the Serengeti to include with the letter.

More than two months later, they got a reply.

Mwanaidi Sinare Maajar, the Tanzanian ambassador to the U.S., responded personally to the class.

He thanked them for writing. He noted their concern about the road and complimented their drawings. He explained the need and circumstances surrounding the road project. Near and around the Serengeti there are people and small children just like yourselves, he said.

"They would like to have a nice road to pass through to go to school and to the hospital when they are not well." He said the government also wants to protect the animals. They want to reduce the current 220-kilometer unpaved road to a 54-kilometer road. It would reduce traffic in the park and give poor communities a reliable road, he argued.

"The people need a road, and therefore, the government has the responsibility to deliver it."

He quoted President Jakaya Mrisho Kikwete to ease their concerns about the animal's habitats: "As far as Serengeti is concerned; Tanzania and her people will be the last to destroy it."

The 5- and 6-year-olds erupted in cheers and high-fives when Debbie read the letter to them. They understood and accepted his explanation and focused on the part that said the road would be shortened.

I asked my son how he felt about what his class did?

"Pretty impressed," he said.

What was the best part of getting the package, I asked. The ambassador included bags and pencils for each of the children in the class with his letter.

"Well, you know, saving the Serengeti," my son said. I raised an eyebrow.

"You believe you guys saved the Serengeti?"

He nodded his head and shrugged his shoulders.

"Pretty much," he said. "They're making the road smaller, you know."

A child should learn the value of having a voice, being able to use the power of expressing that voice to make the world better. It's a tricky lesson. Eventually — too soon — they learn that many people won't care about the issues that matter to them or will have opposing views. They will discover how difficult fighting a powerful institution can be and how rarely the world works the way we would want — with fairness and kindness.

But before they confront these harsh truths, it's important for them to believe in their own agency.

A few weeks after this letter arrived, a teacher overheard my son and his friend, Sam, complaining about how often their class ends up on the pebble playground as opposed to the wood chip playground, which they believe to be the superior play area. The teacher asked them what they could about it.

The boys thought for a moment, looked at each other and said: "Tanzania."

They've written a letter to the teacher to voice their discontent and make their case to switch playgrounds.

It may not work. But, if you believe you can save the Serengeti, then anything seems possible.