It was the night for Back-to-School introductions, a time that filled me with both excitement and nerves. As a teacher, the classroom soon buzzed with fresh faces of eager four-year-olds and their families. One little boy and his mother approached me, beaming with pride. She introduced him, saying, “This is Ethan.”
“Great to meet you, Ethan! And who is this lovely lady?” I asked, glancing at his mother.
Ethan raised an eyebrow and replied, “Just my mom.”
Those words lingered in my mind long after I tucked my own daughter into bed: “Just my mom.” “Just my mom.”
Throughout the school year, I grew to adore Ethan and his classmates. Most of them had the privilege of stay-at-home mothers who were actively involved in our classroom and school events. When Mother’s Day approached, I knew we needed to craft something special for these devoted moms. I discovered a delightful “About My Mom” questionnaire and sat down with each child to record their thoughts.
“What’s your mom’s name?”
“I don’t know.”
“Okay, what does your dad call her?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where does your mom work?”
“She doesn’t.”
“What does she do when you’re in school?”
“Cleans up my mess,” one child answered. “Buys me toys,” chimed in another. “Waits for me,” said yet another.
“Waits for you? Can you explain?” I asked.
“She drops me off, then waits until I finish school and takes me home.”
“The whole time?” I probed.
“Yes,” she affirmed.
“I don’t know what she does,” one child admitted.
“Well, I’m sure she does a lot of things. While you’re here chatting with me, what do you think she might be doing?”
“I don’t know.”
“What does she enjoy for fun?” I asked, feeling a bit of desperation.
“I don’t know what she likes.”
I encountered many such conversations. Out of my entire class, only a handful of children could provide answers that recognized their mothers as individuals with thoughts, feelings, and desires.
At home, I am a mother. In my classroom, I embody the nurturing role for 17 children. Sometimes, it feels as if I am merely a pair of hands. “Can you open this?” “Will you tie my shoe?” “I need more water.” I strive to assert my identity beyond “just a teacher.” During share time, I relish the moments when I can reveal bits of my life to the children, and I cherish their surprise when they learn that I don’t actually live at the school.
It’s no secret that children are inherently self-centered. As educators, we understand Jean Piaget’s theory of cognitive development. Kids are still learning, and they can’t be faulted for this. Yet, listening to their responses, I felt the weight of a mother’s daily struggle. Often, we feel unappreciated, and much of our hard work goes unnoticed. Our children may perceive us as existing solely to fulfill their needs, and even if they don’t voice that sentiment, their actions often convey it clearly.
A mother’s presence can be so constant that it fades into the background. What we do and who we are can become invisible to our kids. A mother’s labor is challenging and frequently goes unrecognized. Yet, we choose to prioritize our children’s emotional needs over our own and set our desires aside.
Love entails sacrifice. Your children cherish you. They need to see you and understand you. You deserve to be acknowledged. Take the time to share your identity with them, even when it feels like they might not care. You are significant. You may feel overlooked, but I see you.
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Summary:
Mothers often feel invisible in their roles, as their hard work is frequently unrecognized by their children. This article highlights the importance of mothers sharing their identities with their children, reinforcing that they are significant and deserve acknowledgment.