I went through a phase earlier this school year where I was so tired, so worn down, that I proclaimed to Brian every day on my return home from school that HOW COULD WE EVER HAVE KIDS? I HAVE 23 KIDS ALL DAY LONG AND I NEED A BREAK. WE ARE NEVER HAVING KIDS. He, being equally tired, was all good with my proclamation. We aren't so militantly against children now (hey the doldrums of January really get to a teacher's brain) but we really are toast by the end of the work day. How do you people do it? How do you manage the feelings, spiritual growth, academic goals, and social development of two dozen small humans all day and then have an ounce of patience left in you by the time you get home? How?
As long as my brain is wandering in this direction, what if we never did have kids? My mind freaks out: would my parents or Brian's parents be devastated? Would people judge me? Ack! All the silly insecurities that come with adulthood decisions seem to pile up if you let them. I've had random pangs of that guilt or the potential of letting people down and decided to ignore them. A perk of adulthood is that you get to make those decisions based on what works best for you, not on the obligations projected upon you by society. So I suppose that's the game plan for Brian and me at the moment. We don't have a timeline, or really even a set plan. We just know that the next best thing for us is to not have kids right now.
I was thinking of that next best thing, and having a time without having kids yet, because it allows me the energy, creativity, and opportunity to call my students "my kids." I love my kids. My kids are all different shades of skin, all different types of brains, and from all different types of families and churches. My kids love each other, mess up together, love to learn, and crack me up on the daily. If Brian and I one day decide to have kids, I hope they turn out to be true individuals, just like my kids now. I hope they like singing, dancing, clapping, and selfies just as much as my kids. I hope they love reading, building, and writing letters just like my kids. I hope they love Jesus, live kindly, and show a care and concern that says when you are hurting I am hurting too, just like my kids.
Sometimes I come home from school exhausted from helping to raise other people's children, but then I remember that they're partly mine too. As a teacher, you're constantly helping little people navigate the social transition between their home environment and a school environment and how to do that. It can be hard to help children translate what it means to share, encourage, compete, and grow together when they all come from different places themselves.
But you know what? The differences? And the rich diversity that happens when all 24 of us step into our classroom each day? That's what I love about my kids. I'm so glad God gave them to me.
I love this. I think it is so tremendously selfless of you and Brian to be willing to think of your student-kids before the possibility of even having your own. I mean, I have a hard time thinking of my own kids (only 2! Not 24!) before myself mostly all the time because I am selfish and do not want to change another diaper/wipe up more mess/read another book. You wake up every day and do all of that for people you didn't even create! And you give all of yourself to a room full of impressionable minds, year after year. It's a gift!
ReplyDeleteI promise not to judge you if you have no kids. I will only judge you if you have 24 of your own. But you won't have the time or awareness to notice my judgment when you have 24 children. Win-win.
ReplyDeleteYou're giving those kids a great gift! And it's okay if you don't feel ready to have your own offspring for a while or ever.
ReplyDeleteBut if you do decide to, just know that Jesus gives you just exactly the amount of strength and endurance you need for your calling. I didn't believe it until it happened to me :-)
(and we take our kid with us wherever we go - they really can be as transportable/adaptable as you let them be!)