Teacher Spouses

As I pulled into the parking space, my husband tapped my window, “Pick a gas pump and I will fill it up before we go,” he announced and flashed me a smile. It was 6:30 on this July evening and I am sure he desperately wanted to loosen his tie and roll up his sleeves, but there he stood, ready to pump my gas before hopping in and driving me to our destination forty minutes away. We were not heading to the movies or a romantic dinner - this wasn’t a typical date night – this was a “teacher date night.” My husband has gone on hundreds of these teacher dates with me and he knows what they entail but there he stood, pumping my gas with a smile on his face after a ten-hour workday.

I have written and spoken often about how ill-prepared new teachers are for the realities of the classroom, how colleges prepare young educators to deliver material without teaching them anything about the humanity of their position. If that is true, then it is equally true that no one prepares anyone to be a teacher’s spouse. It is a unique role and it is not for the faint of heart.  My husband explains it well, “It is your job to support kids and it is my job to listen and support you so you can support kids. That’s how I can make a difference.” I have to admit, he may have learned a little from watching his mother, a pastor’s wife, growing up. I also have to admit that I am very blessed to have a husband who believes as fully as I do that teaching is not a job but a vocation.

On this particular night we were heading to a funeral home. The grandfather of a treasured student had passed away and I felt compelled to pay my respects to the young man and his family. I don’t know if it mattered in any way that I was there, but I determined that it was never the wrong decision to shake a hand, give a hug, and say, “I am sorry for your loss.” My husband has voyaged to funerals and visitations with me many times over the years. Sometimes it is to console a student who has lost a parent; he introduces himself as my husband, shakes the child’s hand and stands with his hand on my shoulder as I chat and attempt to gauge what the student may need from me when she returns to school. Far too often these trips have been to say goodbye to students themselves. On those occasions, he holds my hand tightly as I try respectfully not to outcry grieving mothers, fathers, and friends as I mourn the loss of a child. Thankfully, it has been a long time since we have attended one of those funerals.

This “teacher husband” job is not always such a sad one, though. Sometimes it involves sitting in a school gym cheering for a volleyball team, or in the stands on a chilly football Friday night, or on a wooden bleacher on a hot summer Saturday. On those occasions, he asks me to name the children for him so he knows what to shout in his cheers, and he mutters questions like, “Is this the one who wrote that poem you loved?” or “Is that the one who wants to be an architect?” He doesn’t mind these jobs so much. In fact, sometimes when we have missed a sport that season, he reminds me that next year we cannot get so busy that we don’t watch a single softball game (or soccer, or basketball). He gets it. Caring about what kids do when they are outside of the classroom makes it easier to serve them in the classroom. He sits in auditoriums too, and has even been known to drive to a dance competition or two, arriving just in time to see the girls perform and exiting rapidly afterwards to head to the next event.

Sometimes, I feel like the teacher spouse gig involves more logistics and transportation than it should – like I get to do the fun stuff while he makes the maps and drives the van – but he never complains. My husband could put Fed Ex and UPS to shame with his skills at scheduling the perfect route to ensure we get to every  graduation open house with time to chat with every child and congratulate every parent. It is not a small task when you teach in a district that is spread out over five communities. He methodically stacks the graduation invitations for each day in the best possible order, occasionally asking me questions, “Is there one you know you want to stay at a little longer than the others? Is there one where you know you want to eat a complete meal?” before preparing a map with numbered stops.

Then we hit the ground running and he smiles and shakes hands and utters congratulations to children he has never met and thanks mothers for delicious treats, and asks fathers questions about land or tractors or cars, or sometimes just sits quietly and watches while I do what I do, or more often runs around hunting for the son we invariably lose at these things.

Being a teacher is important to me. I am a teacher 100% of the time and not just 8:00-4:00, August – May. That is something teacher prep programs don’t make perfectly clear. It was something I am sure my young groom could never have foreseen when he walked down that aisle. But it matters. That he believes in the work I do enough to share in it is the most powerful act of love. I know that my teacher spouse is not the only one out there quietly supporting the youth of today. I see other husbands filling their plates at graduation parties and chatting with proud fathers. I see other wives cheering with enthusiasm from bleachers and shaking the hands of young actors after play performances and concerts. And I know that they, like my husband, are also there at home entertaining their own children on nights when papers need graded, making dinner (or in my husband’s case taking the kids out to eat) when a practice, rehearsal or meeting has kept their teachers at school far too late, paying the bill when too many books or posters were purchased off of Amazon, and offering encouragement when their teachers are desperately worried about that one hurting child, or their AP test scores, or the little one who isn’t learning to read as fast as the others, or the speech performer who can’t seem to make it to practice.

We all know the grief teachers get. Indeed, the internet is ripe with memes, blog posts, and articles attempting to explain and justify the work we do, attempting to make it clear to the public how much we care and how hard we work. But there is this quiet group behind the scenes who go unnoticed and in their own way these teacher spouses are making a powerful difference.

I keep reading posts proclaiming this generation of young people to be a generation of entitlement. As I dig further into these pieces, I learn that mothers who plan great birthday parties, glue googly eyes to gift bags, and play with their children bear the primary responsibility for creating this generation of pompous youth.  As a high school teacher and mother of five members of this generation, I would like to challenge this seemingly popular interpretation of society.

            Never in my twenty years as a teacher have I encountered a generation with more altruistic, empathetic, and compassionate young people in it.  When I talk to my students about their future plans, they speak almost without fail about whom they want to help and how their careers will allow them to do so. They tell me stories about mission trips where they were forever changed, homeless people they have served in area soup kitchens and gotten to know, protests for social justice they have felt compelled to participate in, and prayers they say for others every day and night.  They are planning their futures around the idea that they play a role in improving the world in which they live.

            I do understand where some of the misunderstanding of kids and parenting today comes from.  We all know those parents who have been planning their children’s college application since preschool. We know those schools where recess creative play is pre-empted for anti-obesity training on a regular basis and we have definitely sat next to at least one parent at a sporting event who has her son’s camp schedule organized so that he will be sure to make the NFL draft by the time he is 20. Of course there are extremes out there; that is true with anything. But before we start shaking our fists at the glue-gun wielding mom at the elementary school party or blaming that Pinterest-inspired valentine for the downfall of society can we take a minute to consider what those parents are modeling for their children? I would argue the messages children learn are not about self-centeredness as much as they are about self-giving. I confess that I have thrown my children some over the top birthday parties, led four Girl Scout troops, played elaborate games of pretend, built American Ninja Warrior courses in my backyard, and yes – glued googly eyes to any number of objects – in fact a jar of googly eyes was our table centerpiece for several months last fall. But my children are well-adjusted and giving people. Here is what I and all the glitter sparkling parents out there are teaching this generation:

• ·       Parenting if fun.
• ·      Parenting is a job worthy of lots of time, lots of focus, and lots of creativity.
• ·      Imagination doesn’t go away just because you grow up.
• ·      They are worth my time.
• ·      They are worth my creativity.
• ·      They are loved more than anything else by someone.
• ·      When you love someone, you give to them even if that means you are a cruise director to make them smile, even if it means you learn to do something you don’t like to do, even if it means you sacrifice some small part of yourself to do it.

      See, I don’t think these are such bad lessons for children to learn and I don’t think a child develops a sense of entitlement by having selfless love modeled for him. On the contrary, I think sometimes children who have parents who go to great lengths for them learn to go to great lengths for others. I think children see how their parents love them and then want to go out and love the world with that much passion and that much enthusiasm.

            That brings me back to my students and to the real issue that is sparking these conversations and concerns all over the internet. See, kids today are actually different. Those who have been loved by these parents whose over-involvement we so criticize have learned a few things that make people uncomfortable.

They have learned that they are valuable just as they are. They have learned they should not let anyone dim their lights because their lights make them special. Boy does that make compliance a challenge sometimes.

They have learned that every day is an adventure with the potential for fun.  If we could harness that as teachers instead of squelching it, what power we would have!

They have learned that they are important enough to ask questions. No! We simply cannot have a child asking why he needs to learn about misplaced modifiers or algebraic equations! We might have to figure out the answers.

They have learned that they are entitled – yes entitled – to LOVE and RESPECT. Apparently this means we have to be nice to all of them!

Here is the thing: we don’t all have to shake our glitter bottles to be good parents. But we do have to stop criticizing those parents who do and not only that but we may have to start appreciating the sparkly and enthusiastic generation they are preparing for the world.