Reflections of a Teacher Mom
So just a few weeks ago, my sweet boy had his first birthday. A whole year has passed since he first came into the world, and it seems to have passed rather quickly. I don't really know what I was expecting out of Zachary's first year of life and of my first year as a parent, or of my first full year of teaching. It seemed to have happened all at once. Here are just a few thoughts on 2015 as a whole.
This has been to most difficult year of my life, hands down. Every college student who plans to become a teacher gets all sorts of warnings about the first year. It's an eye-opener. It's difficult. The lack of experience and lack of routine make even the little things more difficult. You don't know yourself as an educator because you've never really been one before and don't even get me started on the paper work. How do I fill out all these forms? And then there's the actual teaching part. Like, the bell just rang. I have 25 kids in my room and please dear Jesus how do I get them all to sit down and stop talking long enough to explain what sight reading is?! Difficult. Well, let's add being pregnant right on top. First off, your body doesn't do what it used to. Oh, you dropped a single sheet of paper on the ground? Yeah, good luck bending over to pick that up without losing your balance carrying an extra 40 pounds. Oh, you just stood up teaching 4 classes in a row? Now your feet are too swollen to take your shoes off. Oh, you have to pee? Too bad your lunch break isn't for an hour and there's no one available to step in for 5 minutes and watch your class for you. Seriously, being a pregnant first year teacher was the biggest adventure I could've ever imagined.
In all seriousness though, I think I grew up more in the last year and a half than I've ever grown in the short amount of time before. Halfway through the year, I had my second "first day of school" because I came back from being gone for 6 weeks with a baby. Hormones everywhere, body still not functional, my heart was 30 minutes away in a day care center while I tried to keep myself going through the motions. On my first day back, one of my 8th grade girls asked me, "Mrs. Cookus, did you miss us? Are you glad to be back?" Honestly, I couldn't answer her question. I tried to change the subject in any way that I could because I knew she wasn't going to like my answer. I did not miss being there. I wasn't ready to be back. It wasn't because I didn't like her or any of my students, really. It was because I found my real passion in life over the 6 weeks I had just spent at home. I was a mama. I was a mama to the most perfect child I had ever known and I'd sent him off to be cared for by somebody else so that I could spend 8 hours a day with other people's children. That was the most difficult part. It wasn't the general demands of a new choir program, the appraisal system for teachers, or running on 4 hours of sleep every night. It was leaving my baby every morning, especially the mornings where he'd cry as I headed out the door.
It's hard to be a full-time teacher when you're also trying to be a full-time mom. I was doing a halfway decent job at both, but not really succeeding at either. At least, that's what it felt like. I'd get to work just on time and leave as soon as my contract said I could. There was no before school practice time or after school meet with parents. I only got 2 hours with Zachary each day. I'd get home around 5:00 and bedtime was at 7:00 every night. Those two hours were so important. And then there was my husband. The one I had only been married to for 2 months before we found out there would be a baby. He deserved to feel like he was still a priority. I needed him to know that he was doing a good job at being a dad.
So maybe my job sat at second place for a little while. Maybe there were times when I gave it everything I could at work and then came home too exhausted to enjoy my family. Maybe there were times when I wished I could do things one at a time. Okay, there were definitely times when I wished that. There were times when I wished Stephen and I could just be married and spend time with other 20-somethings and go to the movies and play board games until midnight just because it was Saturday. But I look at my son and I remember what God has entrusted me with. I have a son to raise up for the Kingdom. I have 120 middle schoolers that I get to sing with everyday- kids who probably have never been told that they can be good at singing before, and I have a husband to partner with me for the rest of my life. Guys, I'm 100% exhausted, but I'm also 100% full of the promises of the Lord.
So I don't think my first year as an educator was what I thought it was going to be. I don't think it turns out the way any first year teacher thinks it will. It was a year of intense growth and extreme challenges. I know a lot more about myself now as a person and as a professional. Thankfully, I've got a God on my side steering me along His path and reminding me that there is grace for the task given.
Hugs,
Destiny
This has been to most difficult year of my life, hands down. Every college student who plans to become a teacher gets all sorts of warnings about the first year. It's an eye-opener. It's difficult. The lack of experience and lack of routine make even the little things more difficult. You don't know yourself as an educator because you've never really been one before and don't even get me started on the paper work. How do I fill out all these forms? And then there's the actual teaching part. Like, the bell just rang. I have 25 kids in my room and please dear Jesus how do I get them all to sit down and stop talking long enough to explain what sight reading is?! Difficult. Well, let's add being pregnant right on top. First off, your body doesn't do what it used to. Oh, you dropped a single sheet of paper on the ground? Yeah, good luck bending over to pick that up without losing your balance carrying an extra 40 pounds. Oh, you just stood up teaching 4 classes in a row? Now your feet are too swollen to take your shoes off. Oh, you have to pee? Too bad your lunch break isn't for an hour and there's no one available to step in for 5 minutes and watch your class for you. Seriously, being a pregnant first year teacher was the biggest adventure I could've ever imagined.
In all seriousness though, I think I grew up more in the last year and a half than I've ever grown in the short amount of time before. Halfway through the year, I had my second "first day of school" because I came back from being gone for 6 weeks with a baby. Hormones everywhere, body still not functional, my heart was 30 minutes away in a day care center while I tried to keep myself going through the motions. On my first day back, one of my 8th grade girls asked me, "Mrs. Cookus, did you miss us? Are you glad to be back?" Honestly, I couldn't answer her question. I tried to change the subject in any way that I could because I knew she wasn't going to like my answer. I did not miss being there. I wasn't ready to be back. It wasn't because I didn't like her or any of my students, really. It was because I found my real passion in life over the 6 weeks I had just spent at home. I was a mama. I was a mama to the most perfect child I had ever known and I'd sent him off to be cared for by somebody else so that I could spend 8 hours a day with other people's children. That was the most difficult part. It wasn't the general demands of a new choir program, the appraisal system for teachers, or running on 4 hours of sleep every night. It was leaving my baby every morning, especially the mornings where he'd cry as I headed out the door.
It's hard to be a full-time teacher when you're also trying to be a full-time mom. I was doing a halfway decent job at both, but not really succeeding at either. At least, that's what it felt like. I'd get to work just on time and leave as soon as my contract said I could. There was no before school practice time or after school meet with parents. I only got 2 hours with Zachary each day. I'd get home around 5:00 and bedtime was at 7:00 every night. Those two hours were so important. And then there was my husband. The one I had only been married to for 2 months before we found out there would be a baby. He deserved to feel like he was still a priority. I needed him to know that he was doing a good job at being a dad.
So maybe my job sat at second place for a little while. Maybe there were times when I gave it everything I could at work and then came home too exhausted to enjoy my family. Maybe there were times when I wished I could do things one at a time. Okay, there were definitely times when I wished that. There were times when I wished Stephen and I could just be married and spend time with other 20-somethings and go to the movies and play board games until midnight just because it was Saturday. But I look at my son and I remember what God has entrusted me with. I have a son to raise up for the Kingdom. I have 120 middle schoolers that I get to sing with everyday- kids who probably have never been told that they can be good at singing before, and I have a husband to partner with me for the rest of my life. Guys, I'm 100% exhausted, but I'm also 100% full of the promises of the Lord.
So I don't think my first year as an educator was what I thought it was going to be. I don't think it turns out the way any first year teacher thinks it will. It was a year of intense growth and extreme challenges. I know a lot more about myself now as a person and as a professional. Thankfully, I've got a God on my side steering me along His path and reminding me that there is grace for the task given.
Hugs,
Destiny
Comments
Post a Comment