Enough

I mentioned in this post a little crying jag I had the other night. Here's the explanation...

Last night at class, I had to introduce myself and talk about my experiences with other cultures. Naturally, I talked about teaching at Harper (which, for anyone who doesn't know , is an all African American, under-achieving school on Chicago's South side). During the break, a classmate asked me about my experience there because she's interested in teaching in an urban environment. She asked me how I avoided burnout.

Avoided burnout? Um, I didn't. Well, I guess I avoided it enough to stay for four years and to want to continue teaching in the city in the future. But I started to explain to her how I really had to choose my battles, how I had to just kind of close my classroom door and do my best and try to leave it at that.

But I wasn't always good at "leaving it at that." When I taught at Harper, I cried on a regular basis. (Now you can say with reason, "Poor Zach," Dad.) I cried mostly because there was always more I could have, should have done. I cried because I was overwhelmed by all that I needed to do and wanted to do. I cried because I always felt like I could never give enough and never be enough.

My friend Liz is one of the wisest people I know. I sat across from her at Panara Bread one day in the midst of the school year and complained about all the directions I was being pulled. She looked at me in the eye and said (in a very Robin Williams "It's not your fault" from Goodwill Hunting moment), "You are enough of a wife. You are enough of a sister. You are enough of a daughter. You are enough of a friend. You are enough of a teacher..." and she kept telling me I was enough until I started crying uncontrollably.

I never realized that being a mom would be so similar to being a teacher that way. I want to give Isaac the very best of every thing, but there's always more that I could be doing, and there's always someone who seems to be doing it better. That's why I started crying the other night. 'Cause I'm never on time. 'Cause I can't seem to get thank you notes out. 'Cause I can't get my butt out of bed in the morning. 'Cause I forget to call people back. 'Cause sometimes I'm too tired or bored to play with Isaac. 'Cause he didn't nap well. 'Cause I didn't bring him to a museum or playgroup or sing along class....

And you're probably all going to leave me comments about what a great mother I am, blah, blah, blah... (Well, you would've if I hadn't said that.) And in my rational part of my brain I know that those people who look like they're all together have their moments, too. I know, if I think about it, that I can't be perfect and that in God's eyes I am enough. But that's my struggle: thinking about this with the rational part of my brain.

I have to say, though, that I cry far less these days than I did when I was teaching. The great part of mothering is that Isaac's needs are few and they come pretty naturally: love, food, sleep, a couple funny songs and lots of cheerleading. Plus I get lots of feedback from him that I am giving him enough, usually in the form of a big drooly smile or an open-mouthed slobbery kiss on the chin. Can't say I got many of those from my students. Probably good.