For the past seven or eight years, my life mostly centered around art education. Studying to be an art teacher, becoming an art teacher, and then cultivating myself to be a better art teacher. Last year, I didn't get to be a full time art teacher, because I had to teach other subjects too. I had a huge identity crisis about it, but in the end decided I was still a teacher and that is where my passion ultimately lies. This summer, I became a mother, and I have suddenly given up teaching to fulfill this role full time. However, it occurred to me today, that I am still applying a lot of my teacher philosophy to my new job. I pride myself on being a lifelong learner and the kind of teacher that reflects daily on how I can be better, so I can't help but see the mirror image of the two roles.
In fact, the more I think about it--being a new mother is A LOT like being a first year teacher.
For one, I haven't really earned the role yet in many ways. Sure, I gave birth, but in the eyes of veteran mothers I have so much to experience before I'm officially in the club. Comments like "just wait..." remind me of those who said "Oh, it's your first year? Just wait..." in my first year of teaching. And they were right. Only in that first year of teaching, it got much worse before it got better. I'd venture to say things are just going to get better and better now that the triage phase of figuring out how to keep this tiny human alive has passed. My confidence as a mother is growing exponentially every day. Although, I've heard many teachers say that the in first year of teaching, the best you can do is just keep yourself alive. It's really challenging to develop a winning classroom management strategy or perfect a lesson plan that first year. In the same way, I sense that parenting decisions are still not quite being made over here. We're still taking notes and watching other parents around us for guidance. Everyone can still say "just wait..." to us until Elliot learns to manipulate us, knows the power of saying "NO" and throws toddler fits and all that fun stuff. In the meantime, I'm still sitting in the teacher's lounge in my big girl outfit watching and listening and pretending to be a real grown up at the front of my classroom while still taking notes on what I should and
shouldn't be doing!
And then I step back and realize that no one gets parenting exactly right. In the same way, there are so many ways to be a great teacher. I've always felt that I became an amazing teacher the moment I realized I was changing the life of just one or two students. I was an irreplaceable figure in the lives of my students, not all of them, but there are several of them who will remember me decades from now and vice versa, I know it. The reason I want to say I'm becoming so frustrated with the "just wait..." line right now is because I started changing those kids lives even when I was a giant bag of nerves faking it through that entire first year. It's that extreme love and passion for teaching my subject that struck those rare students who saw through my fear.
I have never had that magical touch when it comes to babies. I'm not the person you hand your baby to and immediately watch them coo and feel at ease in my arms. And I've never been that soft and cuddly teacher either. Having a schedule where I got a new batch of students 8 times last year (don't ask me to tell you how that's possible!), I pretty much perfected my "getting to know me" speech. It always starts out with an itemized list of my pet peeves and admitting my faults... "I talk too much, I like personal space, don't come behind my desk unless you want to see me freak out on you, and don't call out my name across the room unless you are on fire, bleeding or the room is flooding. I will be your classroom waitress, but not your servant. I look younger and more naive than I am. I'm not here to be your friend, but I like to think I'm pretty cool. Don't start none, won't be none, etc, etc." This usually makes several kids stare back at me like I'm the devil or possibly worse than their mother, but they eventually come around, usually when my silliness starts leaking out and they realize a lot of that speech is a front. My point is, there are so many women and mothers and teachers out there who have this magical hug you and wipe your face with their spit on shirt sleeve quality that I will likely never have...except to those magical few who get me immediately. Luckily, although she is only 3.5 months old, I can tell my daughter gets me. She has my silliness already and I can tell she's not going to need a bunch of cookie baking and button sewing to know she can depend on me. At least I hope so, because she'll have to find it elsewhere.
Which brings me to eating crow. We have a taxidermy squirrel in our house (what, you don't?)...actually, we have several of them, but one in particular is named Crow. Years ago, before we bought our house, he hung on the wall in Brandon's old condo. There was a turning point in our relationship when it really became the marriage we have today long before we got married. That moment occurred when we realized that to make our love work as a partnership, someone had to eat crow. Pretty much daily. It started becoming easier and easier, thus the naming of the squirrel and then the cutesy "I eat you!" line we would use and look at the squirrel mount when saying it. It solved a lot of arguments, and still does of course today. Loving anyone means being ready to eat what ever bullshit line you stood behind the day before and like it.
I think parenting will be the same way. I'm going to eat a lot of crow. One day I'll probably even say "just wait..." to another new mom about how much crow she will eat, but I give her permission to resent me for it in advance. We all have our own reasons and baggage for needing to help others pay their dues, although they're usually not good ones and based more in our issues than in theirs, but I digress. My point, because I have one, is this: I'm happy to be here in this splendid and visceral naivety where I know next to nothing about what being a parent is all about, but I already have the merit badge. I will wear it proudly as I flip flop from judging someone for whatever I judged parents for in my single days to blissfully doing it myself and rolling my eyes at my former mindset. Now, if you'll excuse me I have to go leave a super lame Facebook comment on someone's too cool for school status update and embarrass everyone around me in the process. Get it? Because that's what moms do on Facebook.
