The teachers that shape our lives

By Maria Bailey

Teachers: the topic comes to mind for two reasons. The first is to ask for advice on a note I received from my two-year-old daughter's new teacher. The note read: "We are having trouble getting Morgan to take her nap in the afternoon. Could you please have a talk with her at home about this? Thank you, Morgan's teacher."

I broke out in laughter. Not at the note, but at the vision of me having a discussion with my two year old, who won't take a nap at home, about sleeping at school in a strange classroom on a strange mat. I try to keep an open mind when it comes to parenting, but reasoning with a two year old is not something I've been able to master. Perhaps, I should sacrifice a good night's sleep and try to keep her up at night so she sleeps at school. I'm not sure what the solution is here so if anyone has any suggestions, please email me.

I've been stumped by a preschool teacher, who must know how to discuss things with her class of two year olds. Perhaps I need to go ask her for some advice.

On the topic of teachers, as the school year ends, it is a good time to reflect on the teachers who help share our lives and the lives of our children. My first grade teacher was Mrs. Block, a large woman, who looked a lot larger when she stood over my desk. I'll never forget the time she made me write the word "first" 100 times because I always misspelled it. Then there was Sister Susan who trotted through the halls of Bishop Kenny telling us our skirts were too short and our blue eyeliner too dark. And who could forget Coach Birch? He used to call us "Doobies." I've never figures that one out because I think the word doobie relates to drugs. Perhaps he did a few too many in the sixties and that's why he was teaching chemistry to a bunch of uninterested high school seniors. Each one of these teachers has shaped my life, my work ethics and my personality.

I can't really think of one bad one other than Mrs. Whitaker, our grumpy band instructor, who would beat her baton on the music stand until it broke off or went flying into the air. Thank goodness, I sat in the back row with the brass. The flute section took the brunt of those outrages.

Most likely as a mother, you have seen the effects of your child's teachers this year. A positive experience with a good teacher can produce great results in your child's performance. Unfortunately, a negative experience probably created affects you've been dealing with, and you may be grateful that the year is coming to a close. I can honestly say that we've had a fantastic year.

It seems like just yesterday that I was writing my diary entry about the tears I shed as my two first-graders pranced down the hall of their new school. Today as I walked my kindergartner down the same hall on his way to his last day as a kindergartner, I cried again. This time they were tears of happiness over the progress all my children have showed this year. Keenan can now read words, color inside of lines and write all his numbers up to 100. Let's disregard the fact that he still slips into my bed every night, he's grown up so much in such a short time. I reminded him this morning how I cried on the first day of school. My sadness quickly disappeared as he said with pride, "can you believe I'm going to be a first-grader tomorrow?" It was a moment I'd like to engrave in my memory. He was proud of his achievements. "I can't even remember everything I've learned this year" he remarked as he stepped into his classroom for the last time this year.

I was lucky enough to get three wonderful teachers this year. Each of their personalities mixed perfectly with the personality of each my children. Keenan needed a stern-handed teacher while Madison worked best with the touchy-feely type. Owen needed someone to look up to. Its rumored among his classmates that he will one day marry Mrs. Mortillero. I'm sure it has nothing do with the fact that she's a young, energetic blonde bombshell but rather her intelligence and keen interest in his progress that has won Owen's fondness toward her. He's like his father; he goes for brains rather than beauty!

All of these women helped me gain a whole new appreciation for the important job we've entrusted teachers to do. It's a job I would not do well. It's far more manageable to deal with screaming clients rather than screaming six year olds. At least if you have to listen to a co-worker read a presentation to you, you act like you are paying attention although you are really writing your grocery list. Try that when a first-grader suddenly needs your help pronouncing a word and you've lost your place in "Magic Treehouse Adventure."

Each day as I pulled out of the drop-off lane at school and passed teachers coming to work, I silently thanked them for accepting the responsibility of educating my children. I also thought how wonderful it was that they chose to pursue a profession that pays so little yet takes so much dedication and commitment. How lucky are we as parents that there are people who are so committed to our children? I made sure today that I thanked each of my children's teachers for the job they have done in making their mark on my offspring. Think about it. These women spend more time with my children than I do on most work days. And they are influencing my children's life as much as I do. I'm sure I won't always be as lucky as I was this year in the quality of teacher we experienced, but I'm grateful that caring hearts shaped this formative year. I'm certain that one day, Madison will fondly reflect on the crazy, enthusiastic antics of Mrs. Garlarneau, Keenan will reminisce on how Ms. Barry appreciated the pirates he somehow worked into every writing assignment and Owen will think Ms. Mortillero is still proud of him for learning to love reading. I think he'll also be wondering if she'd consider marrying a younger man if he found her somehow over the Internet when he's twenty-one.

Teachers are part of the support system of a working mother; we should all salute them and the job they do for us each day. After all, they are creating much more than memories for our children; they are creating their future.

Share your thoughts on our message board or email Maria.

Also see:
• Week Thirty-Seven -- Reuniting with old friends
• Week Thirty-Six -- Tips for managing a large family
• Week Thirty-Five --Fulfilling my dreams
• Week Thirty-Four --Parenting approaches
• Week Thirty-Three -- Combining a business trip with spring break
• Week Thirty-Two -- Making Spring Break plans
• Week Thirty-One -- Importance of a Support System
• Week Thirty -- Life is good
• Week Twenty-nine -- My nine year anniversary
• Week Twenty-Eight --Does birth order matter?
• Week Twenty-Seven -- Things we take for granted
• Week Twenty-Six -- My youngest turned two
• Week Twenty-Five -- Losing someone you love
• Week Twenty-Four -- Where's the romance in Valentine's Day?
• Week Twenty-Three -- The call I've been waiting for
• Week Twenty-Two -- Where did the weekend go?
• Week Twenty-One -- Business trip challenges
• Week Twenty -- Girl Scout cookie time
• Week Nineteen -- Thoughts on motherhood
• More diary entries

Maria Bailey is the CEO and founder of BlueSuitMom.com and a mother of four children under the age of seven.