Realization

As a teacher, I had my fair share of bad days: students sleeping, students backtalking, students not turning in homework, students coming to class late, students just overall not caring. There were numerous days that I would leave the school parking lot questioning why I put myself through the torture of teenagers, putting in late hours, and not getting paid enough. Wednesdays were always the worst. I was no closer to Friday than I was Monday, and, frankly, that stunk. However, no matter how bad of a day I had, the next one would always, miraculously, be better. I can’t explain it. It’s like God knew I couldn’t handle 48 hours of misery. And sure enough, I felt rejuvenated, reminded why I went into the teaching field in the first place.

I really enjoyed teaching, and I know I’ll go back to it some day. Perhaps I can talk Matt into it being when Abby’s off to college. Think he’d go for that? Nah, I didn’t think so either. The truth is, I’m enjoying not working right now. I’ll come out and say it. I was ready for a break from a schedule, dress slacks, and supervisors. I much prefer wind pants and t-shirts. However, there was one aspect of my life as a teacher that I never even considered, one that I wish I had valued more.

As I picked Abby up from Mother’s Day Out this morning—it was an early release day—and I saw her playing outside on the playground, I had a realization. I had had it for a while, but it manifested itself in front of me at 11:30. I watched Abby run around the play area, picking up the handle of a little car that was already occupied by a classmate of hers, and I watched Abby push the little girl in the car. It cracked me up. She then got bored of that and ran toward her teacher, palms up, eyebrows furrowed, questioning something. (If you’ve ever been around Abby, you know that she does this quite a bit when she’s looking for something or someone.) I watched Abby for a couple of minutes, with her completely oblivious to my presence. That anonymity was so very precious to me. So rare, actually. I almost felt out of place.

I realized right then and there that there is a side to Abby that I will never see. Let me repeat that: There is a part of Abby that others will get to view that I will never really know. Sure, I can sneak a peek of her for a minute or two when I pick her up for the day. Yeah, I can quickly grab that Progress Report out of her blue folder and see when she had a dirty diaper, what activities she participated in, and how much of her lunch she ate, but what I really want to see, I can’t. I want to see “Abby Without Mommy Around.” But that just can’t happen With Mommy Around! There is a small part of me that wishes I could be a fly on the wall to see how she behaves when mama’s gone. Sure, teachers and grandparents can tell me about it, but, let’s face it, all of you moms out there: our kids act differently when we’re not around. And it saddens me to know that I will never, ever get to witness it. After we got home from MDO, I noticed Abby had a skinned knee and a very minute scratch on her nose. I would give anything to have seen what happened, to be there to kiss it and make it better, but heck, I don’t know if she even cried. Perhaps she only sheds tears when I’m around! Who knows!

And you know what the funny thing is? I was in my own classroom for five years, and I got to see a side of my students that their parents never got to see. I guess I took that for granted; I never realized what a truly special gift it was to witness 50 minutes in these teenagers’ lives. Were they always pleasant? Of course not. Were there days I prayed that they wouldn’t show up so I wouldn’t have to deal with some of them? Yeah. So sue me. Do their parents wish that they could have had a glimpse into their lives like I had? You bet. Were their parents ever envious of me? I’m sure, considering I saw some of their children more than they saw their own flesh and blood. I never realized that until recently. You know, I guess I’ve taken for granted the fact that I have been with Abby every day (except for one week in Mexico and a weekend trip to Lubbock) since she was born. Folks, that’s a long time! And boy have we bonded in that time. And boy was it hard for me—at first—to give her up five hours a week for Mother’s Day Out! And while I absolutely love running errands without having to unload and load a toddler time and time again (it gets tiring!), I do stop and pause whatever I’m doing on those Wednesdays and wonder what Abby is up to at that moment. And you know what? I have a feeling I’ll be doing this a lot over the next 18 years. Let’s just pray that she’s not the one sleeping, backtalking, not doing her work, or coming to class late!

I can’t always physically be with my daughter, but I can always be there for her mentally. I hope that as she gets older, she thinks about dear ol’ mom just as much as I think about her.