Someone's Catie

Teaching is not always just about teaching. I am continually amazed at how the lines are often blurred. Today I was checking my students' reading folders, and I came across something that pretty much smacked me in the face and took me down.

I have a student who I think of as my "motherless child" student. I usually have one or two students every year who are being raised by aunts or grandparents. Sadly, it's not that uncommon.

This little girl has been raised by her grandparents for a few years now. Mom is kind of in the picture (sometimes) but I think she's been gone for awhile. Grandma is doing a great job. I really have to hand it to her. This child is well taken care of.

Still...what must it be like to not have a mom around? This is my biggest fear; to have something happen to me and leave my girls without a mother. I can't even imagine what it would be like for them to grow up that way.

I have a little sticky note posted at work that reads, "Every child here is someone's Catie." I read this every day. It reminds me to be kind, be gentle, stay patient. Even when they're driving me bugshit, to above all remember that every student in my class is some other mother's little child. I tell myself this, and try to always treat them the way I would want my children to be treated.

This little girl in particular tries my patience a lot. She's a nice kid...I really like her a great deal, actually. But she's very labor-intensive. I have to be on her all the time. She seeks attention and approval continually throughout much of the day and she's off task a lot. Let me tell you; I read that sticky note several times a day.

Something about her, something...I'm not sure what...reminds me of how I imagine Caitlyn's future personality might be. How she could grow up to be. I try not to let my thoughts carry me along like this, but sometimes I can't help it. Sometimes I imagine... what if that was MY little Catie; motherless and acting out in some future teacher's classroom, driving her bugshit?

So you see, the lines get blurred and even if it's not prudent to get emotional about other people's kids it happens, as it did today.

It was a small thing, really. Nothing that might upset somebody whose greatest fear wasn't leaving their children motherless. I opened up this student's reading folder to see if it was signed, and saw it was covered in rounded, childish script, "I love you, Mommy." Over and over.

It was a few moments before I realized that I was standing before my entire class with tears rolling down my face. A few of the observant ones noticed and looked a little stricken to see my face that way. I got a hold of myself somehow and played it off, telling them my contacts were bothering my eyes.

Contacts are treacherous things, the way they clarify your vision. I'd like to take them out sometimes and be free, and walk around like most everyone else not knowing all I know. But I won't. All the other mothers' Caties still need me.