Alana
For twenty-eight years, I’ve been living this CNBC life. A life I never chose or wanted or desired. A completely different life to what I expected. A little girl’s dreams shattered. A married woman’s constant heartache. A now older woman’s deep sorrow that is part of her being, part of who she is now.
My life has also been full of young children because yes, I am a teacher. I’ve loved on so many of them in my 32 years as an Early Childhood Teacher. I’ve helped them grow and change and develop and understand. I’ve held them when they’ve cried, I’ve put bandaids on their skinned knees and sore fingers. I’ve told them I believe in them, I’ve encouraged them, built them up, praised them and surprised them with simple activities or events. I have loved other people’s children.
So when this question, “No kids? Do you want mine?” has been asked of me by the very parents of the children I am teaching (and it’s happened many times!), there are a whole host of emotions and thoughts that go through my head. My heart leaps in my chest, my anger is stirred, my brain wants to say a million things but generally I don’t.
As a teacher, I think- What do you think I do every day when I teach your child? Why do you think your kid has the confidence to do multiplication? Where were you when your child was learning to read? Who taught them to form their letters correctly? When did you read with them last? Who reminded them of the steps to create a narrative? What on earth do you think I do?
As a human being, I think- Look at me. Look at who you’re talking to. Think about what you just said. Really? You would give them up just like that? No, of course you wouldn’t. What a stupid, stupid thing to say. You think yours would replace the ones I wanted? You think that is a solution to my grief? Why would you think it, let alone say it? Your child is standing right beside you. Your child doesn’t want to be given away. You have a child, for goodness sake. You have a child.
The hardest part of those terrible moments after they ask, is when they laugh. They actually have laughed after saying it. They realise their words are inappropriate and they are embarrassed and they laugh. They haven’t even taken the time to acknowledge the first part of their question- No kids? They just jumped into a solution. They don’t even care to know if me not having kids was by choice or not. I don’t get a moment to breathe through the pain. They just announce what I already live every day- I don’t have kids.
Sometimes I have spoken up, sometimes I just shake my head and change the subject. It really has depended on what kind of a relationship I have had with them and if it is really worth the trouble to explain that the question is inappropriate. The thing that these parents don’t get, is that I then walk back into the classroom and I teach their child. I go back to what I do and who I am. I smile and push the pain away. My anger subsides as I remember they didn’t mean what they said. They just don’t know what to do with me- this woman who is not like their peers. This woman who doesn’t fit with what is normal to them. This woman… who loves their kid.
