For the Love of Children

My son shared a story about his third grade teacher that brought tears to my eyes. Mrs. C., as he explained, teaches because she thinks children are geniuses. Children are creative, imaginative and filled with ideas. She wants to be present every day to their wisdom. She wants to hear and to treasure their ideas because they have the answers. She wants to go to her deathbed knowing she witnessed children in their creative and imaginative prime, especially since that creative capability lessens when children become teenagers and then adults.

I am not doing justice to his simpler and more elegant explanation, but I believe I’ve captured the essence. As the boy continued to describe his teacher’s worldview, I started to sniffle. I couldn’t help it. Amused, but not surprised, he witnessed my futile struggle to contain myself. Finally, the tears began to flow. I recognized love, plain and simple, at the heart of his teacher’s career. She goes to work everyday motivated by a deep, abiding love for children. She loves their minds! She sees them as imminently capable. She unabashedly supports and believes in them. 

What parent could possibly ask for anything more? I am filled with gratitude. She has already left an indelible mark on my son’s heart. 

What does it all mean @ 2:30 a.m.?

My son fell asleep in our bed. I tried to move him, not by lifting his 75-pound body, but by swinging his feet to the floor and standing him upright to walk across the hall and into his room. He flat-out refused. He hissed "No!" in his sleep!

This nearly nine year-old child has absolutely no business being in a queen-sized bed with two adults. It. Just. Doesn’t. Work. I tried in vain to get comfortable, curling myself around him. I couldn’t sleep anyway. In place of a normal dinner at normal hour, I satisfied my midnight munchies with a bag of trail mix labeled “Energy”. Apparently, the “energy” label represents truth in advertising. It’s nearly 2:30 a.m. and I’m wide awake.

Now a refugee from my own bedroom, I’ve retreated to the office to use this “energy” more productively. I’ve set up this blog, and entitled it “What Does It All Mean?” It comes from the De La Soul song “The Magic Number,” which in the song, is the number three. It brings a smile to my face when I think of the disembodied announcer’s voice sampled throughout the track asking that very question. I love how the repetition of “What does it all mean?” adds an existential element to this silly, classic hip-hop jam. Perhaps this thought-provoking question sparked my interest in finding out just what it all means. The “it” being life itself, or the Universe or my very existence.

My blog, accordingly, will explore what it all means day-by-day and moment-by- moment. As I inch closer to my own magic number, the big 5-0, I am especially thrilled and pleased to explore this topic. I invite you to join me.