Dear Teachers

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Dear Teachers,

I remember this time of year in the classroom. It’s the time of year when I drove to and from school in the dark. Every so often I would catch a glimpse of the sun either rising or setting, but that probably meant I was taking lots of work home in order to spend less time in the classroom. It’s the time of year when you know your students well enough to read their mood when they walk in the door in the morning and have a fairly good idea of why they are feeling that way.

This is that time of year when things are fairly silent in regards to you and what you do. At the beginning of the school year there are all kinds of pump up messages and “we’re so thankful we were placed in your class!” notes. At the end of the year there are the accolades and the teary hugs good-bye as you hear that you were the best teacher they ever had.

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Construction on Both Sides of the Window

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A school is being built outside our apartment window. Every morning at 7:00 an air horn signals to the construction workers that it’s time to get to work. The structure is slowly stealing our view of the Hudson River. At certain times of year we can stand in the corner of our living room and still see the sky painted pink, purple, orange and red as the sun dips lower over New Jersey, but for the most part, our view is now of silver beams and orange netting as the building climbs skyward.

 

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Understanding

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Everyone in our family voted on Tuesday, even my three-year-old daughter. She, along with her classmates, voted for cupcakes. Chocolate or vanilla.  Since she is my daughter and was therefore born with a constant craving for chocolate, she was confident in her vote and that the outcome would result in eating a delicious, chocolaty cupcake with her classmates on Wednesday afternoon. I didn’t do much to prepare her for the unexpected outcome of vanilla being the winner. She was giddy and energized when I dropped her off, ready to let her voice be heard.

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Seeing Jerry

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A family of rhinos took my attention away from my daughter.  The parents were coaxing the two young ones to move along towards the next treat station.  They had to maneuver past several princesses, a clunky Thomas the Train, and our very own two-year-old little Statue of Liberty to reach the prized bowl of Twix bars.  The plaza at Lincoln Center offered only five candy stations, but the costume watching made it worth spending Halloween morning in the company of hundreds of other New York families. 

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How Do I Respond?

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Last week I was having a discussion with some women about how to balance being informed about current events without being consumed by them. Most of the women in this group are not yet mothers, and they asked me and the only other mom (who is currently in that blissful exhausting newborn whirlwind) if our perspective has changed since becoming mothers.  “Definitely,” I answered. Watching or reading the news can be paralyzing when your child is sleeping or playing in the next room. I don’t remember weeping at the news quite as much before donning this “mom” title.

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