Small talk

On Saturday night we went to a party held by one of my husband’s co-workers. I hadn’t met 90% of the people there, so I spent most of the time feeding my children and myself. I would’ve fed my kids more, but they eventually found the game room where they became happily ensconced playing air hockey, foosball, video games and Nerf basketball (do I want one of these rooms?), so I had to make conversation. Although I’m not naturally a socialite, I have learned to chitchat about weather, food, Christmas shopping, vacation plans…

Just when I was looking at my watch, my husband introduced me to another co-worker who looked more socially awkward than myself. After brief introductions, it came out that this guy was a math major who wanted to return to academia after getting out of the Navy. At first I thought this was where the conversation was going to stall, when it turned to favorite teachers. And then we found common ground, sharing stories of teachers who had made uninteresting subjects seem fascinating with the talent of drawing perfect unit circles, or passion for obscure military battles, or gift for telling stories and making connections between esoteric math concepts or obscure literary figures and the way of the world. These memorable teachers had another gift also, I think, of connecting with their students as individuals.


At one point in time, I wanted to emulate these teachers, but I’m not sure I have that gift of sharing my love of a subject with my students in a way that inspires their curiousity. Certainly I didn’t inspire a love of Latin in my Latina Christiana classes at our homeschool co-op, since they started a KAL club (Kids Against Latin), although I think they had fun trying to compose a play with their limited vocabulary. And I’m afraid I forced my British Lit class to swim in excess information, so they ended up nearly drowning. When I taught the physics for middle schoolers class, I had the unfortunate experience of having about 75% of the experiments we conducted not turn out as planned. (I have the consolation of remembering that my ESL physics-for-liberal-arts-majors professor in college had a similar outcome.)



Lately, I’ve been trying to decide if I want to take a few classes to get certified to teach in a regular school, now that my kids are in school. But while subbing, I was reminded of how much policing school teachers have to do. I’m happy to report that I subbed for one of those teachers who will be remembered by his students as a favorite, but that may be because he is good at incorporating media into his class.

Periodically, I wrestle with the little voice that says “get a job, get a job.” I wonder if this voice is a relic of the progressive feminist mentality I’ve subconsciously absorbed, or a sincere desire to do something more productive than blogging. It’s only compounded when I read articles like the one in Sunday’s paper that cited a study saying that the mental health of children whose father was deployed was better if their mother worked outside the home, than if she were a stay-at-home mom (presumably because she has adult interaction and occupations to make time pass quickly).


At any rate, I haven’t any immediate desire to add complications to an already busy schedule next semester when el esposo is in Afghanistan. And I have a long list of books to read.

Being Productive

Lately, I've been thinking again about getting a job. In the back of my head I berate myself for not being productive and for wasting time (i.e. reading too many blogs), and think that if I were working, I would not be such a slouch. My few forays into the working world, however, have taught me that it takes an incredible amount of energy to coordinate schedules and  to stay on top of responsibilities. For instance, yesterday one of the kids we carpool with mentioned that the cross country coach might not return next year.  A thrill ran up my spine when my son said "You should coach, Mom." Yes! I would love to coach! (I know, not everyone's dream job.) But then reality set in: the other kids would have to stay for after-school care and the toddler would have to go to a sitter, and then there would be meets on weekends and travelling. I don't have the passion for cross country to push everyone else to the side.

Maybe if I had a real gift to share I would be more willing to inconvenience the family.  I finally finished The Story of the Trapp Family Singers last night, after setting it aside for awhile, and was struck again by Maria's determination in getting the family to America, orchestrating their concert series, building their farm, and realizing the dream of the music camp. I admire their family unity and the gift of perseverence Maria must have had. I envy their gift of beautiful voices and wish our family could go to music camp and learn to sing motets and madrigals and hymns. Perhaps their passion for sharing their gifts made their sacrifices less painful.  

On the other hand, I realize that I've been sidetracked from the importance of my duties as a mother.  I've let things slide out of laziness. This quote jumped out at me, speaking to my restlessness: "Our age has become so mechanical that this has also affected our recreation. People have gotten used to sitting down and watching amovie, a ballgame, a television set. It may be good once in a while, but it certainly is not good all the time. Our own faculties, our imagination, our memory, the ability to do things with our mind and our hands -- they need to be exercised. If we become too passive, we get dissatisfied." (This was written 50 years ago.)

So, with renewed dedication to using my faculties, my 3 yr old and I made cookies. Then we made soup and biscuits. And although our activities left a mess in the kitchen, they brought a little peace to my heart.

Although this book was not high literature, it was enlightening. The motto on the Trapp coat of arms was "Nec aspera Terrent" - Let nothing difficult frighten thee. The family took as the motto for their farm the words from the Acts of the Apostles: "Cor unum et anima una" - They were one heart and one soul.  At the end of the book, Maria writes: "As the weeks, the months, the years go by, we see more and more that only one thing is necessary to be happy and to make others happy, and that one thing is not money, nor connections, nor health -- it is love. That love about which Saint Paul breaks out in his famous canticle of praise ..."

So obvious and so easy to lose sight of when confronted with the standards of the world. The Trapps brought beauty and hope to the world during the dark years of WWII and remained simple in their lifestyle and true to their motto. And while my calling is not to share beauty through music, I need to be reminded that making soup and cookies as an act of love is a job productive of happiness.

Working

A couple of days ago, the local public broadcasting radio show had the call-in question, "Do you think children turn out better when one parent stays home?" I wanted to call in and say what a stupid question, but refrained, assuming they were hoping to raise hackles to lure in callers (similar to discussions about marriage.)

As a stay-at-home mother, I don't want the pressure of having to prove my kids are "better." First of all, what is a "better" kid? How many stay-at-home moms have kids who have issues? My own, for starters. Did I originally stay home because I believed it would be better for my kids? Sure. And because, as a liberal arts major, I didn't have any really great financial prospects. I had high-minded ideals about marriage and family, and still have ideals, but also am learning to live with a reality that is quite different from what I imagined.

From time to time I have taken low-paying jobs for the satisfaction of having a job. And perhaps out of pride, which was damaged once when I ran into a professor, whose decidedly dull "oh" in response to my answer that I was staying home with kids, cut deeply. I also was disappointed to lose out on a community college teaching job this fall when classes were cut, even though I was in a tizzy trying to arrange babysitting for my 3 yr old.

So yesterday I subbed at my son's high school. I loved meeting his classmates, I enjoy being around kids that age, and I like standing up in front of a class asking questions and telling kids what to think (or sitting behind a computer . . . ). But it was painful to get my own kids up extra early, drop the 3 yr old at the institutional day care center on base, drop off younger kids at friends' house for a ride to school, and drive to older's school, and then run the route backwards on the way home. And I was so tired at the end of the day that I drank coffee and stayed up way too late reading blogs.

But I did take a little extra time to sit and read stories to the youngers after the running around was over. Whereas sometimes when I'm home, I let them go do their own thing more than I engage with them. Instead of playing with them, I clean, cook, fiddle with paperwork, work on volunteer duties, etc.

So I feel like defending working moms. But after my brief day of work yesterday, I don't know how they do it all without fizzling. Then again, I don't know how some stay at home moms do all they do - I admit to experiencing a twinge of envy/awe when reading some blogs. Heck, I fizzled out from home schooling. More on that later.

No perfect answer, no perfect kids. More indication that despite breeding, bearing, and bringing them up, I have no control over their souls.

(All I had to do yesterday was show "The Fellowship of the Ring" and pass out a worksheet. A line, straight from the book, stood out: when Frodo wishes that none of this had happened, Gandalf's voice says, "And so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for you to decide. All you have to do is decide what to do with the time that is given to you." A good reminder to redeem the time we have, at home or away...