Other People’s Kids
If I’m honest, I thought I just didn’t have “it.”
“Be the teacher you would want your child to have.”
I declared this long before the prospect of my child entering into the world and clung tightly to my own words after his entry. Imagine me: a young and vibrant early childhood educator; getting on the floor to be at eye level with the children; conversing with these tiny learners to get into their world; showing them a love that I never knew existed. I had done this for six solid years and I continued to repeat to myself “I could never teach small children when I become a mom.”
So, I secured a spot in the upper elementary grades just two years before I’d dawn the title of mommy... unbeknownst to me. I liked it there and began to feel like, maybe there is actually enough inside of me to love my students and my own child when the time presented itself, that is, until the time actually did present itself. Exactly two years removed from making the leap from kindergarten to the fifth grade, I was lying in a hospital bed enduring the surreal experience of giving birth to my very own child. But even before that moment in the hospital, throughout my pregnancy, I witnessed myself slipping away; wedging a gap between myself and the children I taught so as not to get “too” close.
In hindsight, I wondered if I feared pouring out too much love onto my kids at work that I wouldn’t have enough to pour out at home to my own child. So, for two and a half years I grappled with the two versions of me: the teacher who doesn’t want to take the job too personal because “I got a kid at home” and the doting mom who wants only the best for her son. I’m not sure at what exact point it began to click for me. I don’t know when my “aha” moment came, but I am certain that something happened to me over the course of this past academic year. I relinquished control and allowed for both of my worlds to collide. Interestingly enough, they began to merge so beautifully that I started to feel bad for not tapping in sooner.
Let me explain: This past year, it finally settled in that in spite of giving birth to the 63 children who looked me in my eyes daily, I had a parental responsibility for them as much as I was responsible for imparting new insight, information and world experience within the confines of a classroom. The more this resonated for me, the more I began to show up for them in ways that I would desire for any educator to show up for my very own son. I was firm yet affirming. I intentional and insightful. I worked hard to ensure that my speech was laced with love while solidifying the non-negotiables. This was the toughest and most emotionally laden year professionally but I felt good about departing the building each day knowing that I had done my best. I could end my day selflessly spending time with my biological child even after having poured out to my chosen children.
So, in closing I thank God for the awareness and capacity to be able to love on other people’s kids much like I love on my own.
Much Love,
Cadacia
