A small stage, bright lights, and a big opportunity: the atmosphere on Little Big Shots was electric when Zachary Tzegaegbe, a six‑year‑old from Lilburn, stepped into the spotlight. He was introduced as a boy with a fascination for U.S. presidents—something he had studied carefully, relentlessly.

The moment Steve Harvey asked a question about American political history, you could tell the audience leaned forward. This wasn’t going to be a cute performance. This was someone who had done his homework.

From the start, Zachary handled the questions with calm precision. When asked to name which presidents won the Nobel Peace Prize, he rattled off Theodore Roosevelt, Woodrow Wilson, and Barack Obama, with no hesitation.

 When the host threw in a curveball—“Which president was the first to use the telephone in the White House?”—Zach didn’t scramble. He answered: Benjamin Harrison. That moment drew audible gasps from both the audience and Steve Harvey, who admitted he didn’t know the answer himself.

But it wasn’t just Zach’s recall of who did what. What impressed people was his depth: names, dates, facts, and traditions. He also recited a speech by John F. Kennedy, word for word, with both clarity and a touch of youthful wonder. It wasn’t memorization as a party trick, but as something he seemed to carry with him, something he loved.

Steve Harvey, visibly surprised, congratulated Zachary, suggesting that if the boy ever ran for president someday, a lot of people in that audience would vote for him.

There was laughter, yes, but also genuine admiration. Adults often forget how powerful genuine passion and curiosity can be; here was a child showing both in full force.

Zach’s parents were part of the story too. From what has been shared, they nurtured his curiosity. They didn’t force him or push him into something, but allowed him to explore what interested him—history, speeches, presidents. Something clicked early on, and they supported it. That kind of environment is crucial for something like this to develop.

In that moment on stage, Zachary seemed at ease. He spoke clearly, his memory sharp, his stage presence natural. It’s worth noting that for many children—even adults—performing under the lights, in front of cameras, with a large live audience can be intimidating.

But he managed not just to answer, but to delight. He wasn’t merely reciting facts; he was sharing them, with excitement. And that made the performance resonate more deeply. Audiences love technical skill, but they respond even more strongly when there’s heart. Zach had both.

Reactions on social media and in the press were overwhelmingly positive. Many people were impressed not just by what Zach knew, but by the fact that he loved knowing it. Some adults admitted they didn’t know half the facts he did.

Others hoped this might inspire other kids to dive into history, to let themselves be curious about figures from the past—presidents, yes, but also the people around them who helped shape a country. Many called him “a walking encyclopedia,” “incredible,” “beyond his years.”

There is always a risk, too, when a child becomes well known for extraordinary knowledge. Some wonder about the pressure, about burns of performance, about how much of childhood is consumed by being “good” rather than exploring freely.

But in Zach’s case, nothing in the coverage suggests anything unhealthy: no show of strain, no forced performance, no awkwardness. Rather, a young boy expressing something he cares about, with joy. That difference matters.

What makes this especially noteworthy is how knowledge of U.S. presidents is often treated as rote or boring—even among adults. But in the hands of someone like Zachary, it becomes something vibrant: the stories of leadership, the speeches, how technology or certain decisions carried consequences.

When he answered questions, he wasn’t just naming names. He was linking facts: which president used what device, which one had this award, which one gave that speech. That interconnection showed not just memory, but comprehension.

For many viewers, Zachary’s sharing also served as a reminder: histories are alive. Presidents aren’t just names on a list. They are people, many of them flawed, some heroic, some controversial, all part of a larger story of a nation.

When a young child treats those characters with respect and curiosity, the past becomes accessible. It becomes something you can talk about, argue about, imagine. In a time when history is under debate—how it’s taught, what parts are emphasized—seeing a child embrace it wholly is meaningful.

It underscores the importance of education, but also of passion. One can imagine teachers, parents, even citizens watching and thinking: what if more children were encouraged like this? What if learning history were treated more as discovery and less as obligation?

For Zachary himself, this moment will likely be a memory he carries for life: the applause, the surprise, the knowing he nailed questions under pressure. But it may also mark just one milestone on a long journey.

He might grow up to continue in history, politics, education—or might pivot entirely. Whatever path he takes, what matters is that this experience affirms curiosity, confidence, and the value of learning. Those are tools that serve across fields, across years.

In broader perspective, this episode of Little Big Shots reminds us that the world remains full of wonder—especially when young people are allowed to surprise us. We often assume children cannot pay attention to details, or cannot handle big ideas.

But Zachary showed that with support, encouragement, and room to explore, young minds can reach surprising depths. His story is less about the facts of presidents than about what it looks like when someone loves history, lets it in, and shares it, unashamed.