One Mother to Another

"The Big Three", a.k.a. my oldest 3 children, had their last day of school yesterday. As with all the usual end of year chaos, I had been struggling with the teacher gifts this year (they have 6 total, not including special subjects). I went through several ideas and scrapped them. I considered throwing into the pot that the room moms were collecting to get a group gift, but I really wanted something meaningful from me personally.
These 6 women have poured into my children all year (some of them in years past as well as my kids move on up, one right after the other) and have helped us through some very challenging and tough times. I wanted to give them something that would relay my heartfelt gratitude in such a way that they could truly understand it's depth. For some reason, although they're delicious and appreciated, cookies just don't do that. (There is nothing wrong with giving cookies, I've done it before! I just wanted something different this year. No judgement.)

Finally I decided to write a poem and frame it for them. So far I've heard back from 3 of the 6 teachers and all were deeply moved; tears and all. I can hardly read it myself without getting choked up, which is saying a lot for me! I wanted to post it here to share with all those other teachers out there so they can know what they mean to us parents. Now, all my kids were in Kindergarten and under, so the poem reflects that, as well as the fact that they are all women. However, it applies to all teachers, regardless of their gender or the age they teach. Some of the things mentioned may not apply to high schoolers, per se, but they are just as much emotionally involved as a preschool teacher, and just as much appreciated.

There is one rule I must ask you follow when reading this: Read it out loud. Poetry is meant to be heard, not read. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for reading. :O)

One Mother to Another

It happens so fast, like they’ve always said

One day they’re being held, next it’s you being led

It was with just this speed I found myself at her door

“Good morning, how are you? They’ll be fine, to be sure.”

Slow steps away, one look back, then another

A lifetime of letting go is what it means to be a mother

In the beginning it was frightening, leaving my child in another’s care

As though I’d been torn in two pieces, body here, heart over there

Now I’ve been through this a time or two, an old hat at an old game

Each year the faces different, but the truth remains the same

She’ll welcome them with open arms, a smile from ear to ear

She’ll shower them with affection, they know she holds them dear

She’ll wipe their nose in my absence and kiss their tears away

She’ll be the queen or the farmer, whatever they want to play

She’ll be there when their friends are not, listening through their pain

She’ll be there on opening night, or applauding at the game

I’ve seen her step up to the plate when battle lines were drawn

With the sole purpose of cleaning the slate of a child that’s not her own

I’ve been witness to a patience once thought reserved for God above

A peacefulness that only blossoms from a heart of love

She’s taught me to see all the good that’s growing in my child

And to speak in gentler tones even when they’re going wild

She’s modeled what it means to get up and start again

Even when the road is tough, she’ll be a trusted friend

At the end of every day, though exhausted thoroughly

She’ll smile and share a kind word she’s been saving just for me

As another year comes to an end, it’s her turn to let go

A final hug and teardrop, oh how she’ll miss them so

As we head into the summer, far from her guiding light

She’s never truly far from us, even when she’s out of sight

Her wisdom softly echoes as we go about our days

She’s taught not only my children, but myself her caring ways

Whether 1 child or 30;  in a classroom or at home

She’s a teacher and a mother, whom we love just like our own

We hold out our sincere gratitude, though she never asked us to

From one mother to another, God blessed us all when He made you

~Jessica Wheatley, Copyright May 31, 2013