Many Faces

These thoughts have been increasing as the school year progresses. What started as a fleeting thought at the beginning of the year has grown to a full on identity misperception as we near the end. This is all me, of course. I haven't actually asked these people how they perceive me. Nor do I really care to know, actually. That doesn't matter. So in reflection I suppose this is what I think of myself. Which is the only thing I really can know for certain.
It is interesting to me, however, that we so regularly think, and believe falsely in this mortal state of being. We judge. We feel judged. We presume to know what others are thinking and sometimes even feeling. We make accusations. We are hard on ourselves and feel guilty for feelings of inadequacy because most certainly someone, or dare I say everyone, is doing it better than we are.

Gage's preschool teacher thinks I am about as dingy as the doorbell. I walk in with him, usually still in my sweats and hair pulled back, and she probably assumes I just rolled out of bed. Because that is what I look like. In reality I've been up since before the sun, I've ran and already gotten 3 other kids (and a dog) fed and off to school, but that doesn't mean I've showered or even eaten breakfast yet myself. I sign him in and kiss his lips and he reminds me that he still needs a new pair of slippers for school. They can't wear their shoes in the classroom so they wear slippers and he has outgrown his, a month ago. He never reminds me until we are at preschool drop off 2x a week and by the time I am picking up from preschool I have forgotten. Actually, I remember lots of things that are important, and I guess I just need to make his slippers important. So I will buy some tomorrow. "Good thing you can also just wear your socks," I say to him, excusing myself from being lame but feeling more lame than ever. I want to say, "at least I packed your lunch," or "good thing I remember to put gas in the car so we can get here," but I don't need to pat my own back to my preschooler. I can act my age I suppose. His teacher waves as he checks in and I tell myself all the way to the car what an idiot I am for forgetting to buy slippers yet again. Gage is smart though, and well behaved and awesome so there's that. His mom must be doing something right, right?

Emmett gets to school on time everyday because he rides the bus. And unless he misses it, which rarely happens, he gets there. His lunch is packed and his shoes are on, although they are rarely tied. Emmett's teacher and I are practically twins. We both like fish tacos and hiking and running, drinking hot herbal tea and basically when I read her little bio at the beginning of the year I knew Emmett was going to have the best year ever... If he can't spend all of his days with me he will be fortunate to spend all of his school days with her. She likes me too because she loves Emmett and because I come and volunteer in her class and I bring her treats when I come for conference. Not packaged cookie treats but healthy jars of beet salad treats or date balls mixed with almonds and coconut. When I am at home in the afternoons collecting the eggs I make my own youtube videos and send them to her class with little math and problem solving questions for the kids. In my own mind I assume she really thinks I have my act together. Volunteer mom. PTA mom. Run into you on the trail mom.

Adelle's teacher thinks I have my hands full because when I see her, which is during Adelle's school conference twice a year and on a field trip or two, I have baby Ira with me in the front pack or in his infant carrier and so literally, my hands are full. Also she hears all about Ira from the mouth of Adelle at school, not to mention all the chickens she talks about, the dog, the cat, and her brothers. I can only imagine how this teacher interprets me and our home life. Adelle is a leader in her classroom and her teacher says she has sass. She sends me letters from class via google docs and I respond in a different color. "You're doing something right," her teacher says to me when I pass her in the hall and she explains to me how Adelle led the whole class in a slime making activity. "Adelle gets it done. If she can't see the board because there is a head in the way, she gets up and moves and that's why she is achieving so much." I'm proud of my confident girl.

The cars who pass by the Guide Meridian must wonder to themselves why a boy is standing on the side of the road, in the dark, by himself, at 7:30am. Does he have parents? What they don't know is that he can also make breakfast, drive a tractor, and take care of 4 other humans without assistance.
Braxton's teachers create the least amount of vulnerability for me. It's middle school. They see me when it's necessary, at the mandatory conference or the band concert, and the rest of the time they know I exist because my child comes to school dressed and with his homework done.