It was a Back-to-School night, a mix of nerves and excitement filled the air. As a teacher, I watched the classroom slowly fill with eager 4-year-olds and their families. One boy and his mother approached me, and with a proud smile, she introduced him, saying, “This is Liam.”
“Nice to meet you, Liam! And who do I have the pleasure of meeting?” I asked while looking at his mother. Liam raised an eyebrow and replied, “Just my mom.”
That phrase lingered in my mind long after returning home and putting my daughter to bed: “Just my mom.”
As the school year unfolded, I developed a deep bond with Liam and his classmates. Most of them were fortunate to have devoted stay-at-home mothers who actively participated in school activities. When Mother’s Day approached, I wanted to create something special for these amazing women. I found a delightful “About My Mom” questionnaire and eagerly sat down with each child to gather their thoughts.
“What’s your mom’s name?” I began.
“I don’t know.”
“What does your dad call her?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where does your mom work?”
“She doesn’t.”
“What does she do while you’re at school?”
One child chimed in, “Cleans up my mess,” while another said, “Buys me toys.” One particularly insightful kid stated, “She just waits for me.”
“Waits for you? What do you mean by that?” I probed.
“She drops me off, then waits for me to finish school and takes me home.”
“The whole time?” I inquired further.
“Yes.”
Another child simply remarked, “I don’t know what she does.”
“Well, surely she does many things! While you’re sitting here talking to me, what do you think your mom is doing?”
“I don’t know.”
“What does she enjoy doing for fun?” As I asked, I felt a rising sense of urgency.
“I don’t know what she likes.”
These conversations were all too common. Out of my entire class, only a handful could recognize that their mothers were real people, complete with thoughts and feelings.
At home, I embody the role of a mother, while in the classroom, I take on a maternal figure for 17 children. There are times when I feel like merely a pair of hands, constantly asked for help: “Can you open this?” “Please tie my shoe.” “Can I have more water?” I strive to remind myself that I am more than just “the teacher.” During sharing time, I relish the opportunity to share personal stories, enjoying the surprise on the children’s faces when they realize that I, too, have a life outside of school.
Children are naturally self-centered, a concept well-known in the realm of education thanks to Jean Piaget’s cognitive development theory. They’re learning and growing, and should not be harshly judged. Yet, as I listened to their responses, I couldn’t help but feel the heartache of a mother’s daily struggles. We often feel underappreciated, our contributions overlooked. It’s as if our existence revolves solely around fulfilling our children’s needs, a notion they may not voice but express through their actions.
A mother’s presence can become so commonplace that it fades into the background, rendering her invisible. The hard work we do often goes unnoticed, yet we still prioritize our children’s emotional needs over our own, setting aside our own desires. Love is a sacrifice.
Your children love you deeply, and they need to see and know who you are. You deserve recognition. Even if it might seem like they don’t care, take the time to share your essence with them. You matter. You may feel invisible, but I see you.
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In summary, mothers often feel undervalued, becoming invisible in their children’s eyes. However, it is essential to remind ourselves of our worth and to share our identities with our kids. Love may require sacrifice, but it is vital for them to see us as whole individuals.