Babymamas; or Mama's Babies

Mama Hummingbird in her tiny nest, in a hibiscus at the elementary campus

Unless you are a teacher's child, you don't understand.

When your mom starts a story about "her kids," you know you are not included in that bunch. Her kids are her students, of course.  

And in many ways, you have to share your mother with the world. 

There is something to be said about having your mom known by the majority of children in a school. In the case of the one elementary school town where I grew up, ALL the kids EVERYWHERE in town knew my mom. They would follow her and call her name no matter where we were or what we were doing. She never really could escape her work.

If all the kids know you, so do most of the parents. I know people are well-meaning, but unless you are a teacher's kid, you don't know the agony of grocery shopping while someone insists on talking (and talking, and talking) about his or her kid's behavior or progress or whatever when all your mom wants to do it just get her shopping done and start dinner.  She wants to ask her own children how their day went and help with homework. She wants to get off her feet. Teachers never let on to parents, but more than once, I tried to use my telepathic skills (or at least bore a hole through their back by staring)  because as a daughter of a teacher in a small town, I was sometimes a little resentful of parents and students who hogged all my mother's time. 

Although I am still a teacher, I am in a somewhat different position than my mother because I'm not confined to the classroom and get to work with all the kids (pre-K through 12), all while teaching something different every day (and even every hour). I do get the hugs (sometimes, without any warning and without seeing the kid before they attack), and I do get little love offerings---bracelets from pipe cleaners, homemade book marks, and sketches of me (at least I think it's me) that I have kept and displayed on my desk.  I don't get the discussions about grades (just lost library books). I am grateful for this and I have yet another reason to love my job.

What got me thinking all about moms and teachers (and teacher moms) was my oldest son's birthday, then Mother's Day, and then a belated Mother/s Day luncheon for my youngest son's class all came within a week of each other. I've just seemed to have motherhood on my mind even more than usual lately.

The luncheon was great---moms (and a few dads) showed up to a nice mishmash of food---turkey, corn pudding, pigs in a blanket, fruit, salad, cupcakes, etc. And it's funny because the students are also "my kids," and therefore I got more hugs than any mom there (not that anyone was counting). Seeing the huge smile on my son's face when I walked in for the party was priceless---but he has the same smile if we pass in the breezeway, or if I happen to see him in the cafeteria, or when he comes into the library. I remember running to my mom's 1st grade classroom when I was in the 3rd and 4th grade to get milk money (maybe a dime?), and the great pride I felt when I walked in and her younger students said, "Is that your daughter?" Silly question, of course---our town was tiny, so everyone knew she was my mother. I loved when I'd pass her in the hall and she'd give me a little wave or wink or made a funny face. She was my mom, and even though she had lots of kids, I was her daughter. 

I will be honest and say I was very afraid taking this job of what would happen with my children if I worked in the same district, same small community. Until October, for all of my almost-20 years in education, I had the luxury of living in communities large enough to support multiple schools (or districts), and I made the conscious choice to never work where I live---I don't want to give up as much of my privacy as my own mother gave up.

I also wanted to give my teenager privacy---it's so valuable at any age, but especially at his age. I know what it's like to have teachers come and tattle to your mom about small, seemingly insignificant things you've done that they wouldn't bother telling a non-colleague parent. I haven't encountered any of that here, luckily. It sometimes is a difficult balance between being a colleague and a parent. As in any school workplace, I have become friends with some of my coworkers, which makes that balance even more precarious at times. 

So as I am in the one and only grocery store on this tiny base, I hear my name being called---it's that unmistakable high pitched call of my last name that tells me it's one of my kids and not my own children---I realize that, as I am in line buying 10 or so bottles of wine for a party, right behind me is one of my elementary students. And his parents, of course. I did panic for a split second---what if the parent goes and tells everyone that I'm buying out the wine section? What if the kid says something in class (and he is my son's classmate, on top of everything else?) You learn this paranoia as a teacher, because society as a whole holds teachers at a different standard---what other occupation can you lose your job for simply posting a picture on facebook of yourself holding a glass of wine?

I now have a greater appreciation for my mom and all the years she gave up just being a mom and had to always be a mom AND a teacher when she'd run into inquisitive parents in town (and their children). I appreciate that she gave up so much of her privacy, and I finally see what it's like to give up your own privacy as an adult living in a small town.

Best part of any week? It's when I see my first grader for his scheduled class once a week, and he slips out of line to give me a huge hug. He still wants hugs! What's not to love about that? And it's every few weeks when my high schooler, who eats out every day off campus because our small school doesn't have a cafeteria,  says to me, "Hey, you want to go out to lunch today?" The fact I haven't managed to completely and totally embarrass them (yet) makes me a happy mama.