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.