[this is the second in a series of guest posts written by jennifer harrison, who was perhaps the only other person in my high school english classes who joined me in gleeful celebration when called up on to diagram sentences. jennifer’s posts will highlight how her vocation as an elementary school teacher informs her parenting, and vice-versa. her bio is located at the conclusion of this post.] 

Milestones in a school year inspire my inner mathematician to make an appearance. As I wrap up my fall parent-teacher conferences, I think back to the number of conferences that I have conducted as the teacher in the parent-teacher duo. I imagine that the number is now close to 500, which is a fairly remarkable number given that I so clearly remember my very first parent teacher conference. I was a young, new teacher, spruced up in a carefully chosen outfit and neatly applied makeup that I hoped would give me more authority than my 21 years commanded.

image from reason.com

Things have changed a great deal since those early days of my career, and I naturally see that each of these conferences is much more than an opportunity to put my best sartorial foot forward. These meetings, while not without significant amounts of preparation and planning, are nonetheless a welcome respite from parents’ and teachers’ hectic day-to-day schedules, schedules that hardly afford us the opportunity to sit down as a team and talk about the accomplishments and the needs of young children. Conferences are opportunities for me to connect and collaborate with my students’ first and most important teachers.  

I love watching parents’ faces as I discuss their child. I love it when they lean in a little closer to listen carefully to my description of the child, whom they love so much. It is so exciting to watch their eyes twinkle as I share a funny anecdote about their child or reveal a significant accomplishment or contribution; and I delight in seeing them emphatically nod in agreement as I outline what I believe to be their child’s special and unique talents.

Conversely, I feel rushes of compassion and sympathy when conversations turn toward challenges and frustrations in the classroom. I see that parents so dearly want their children to succeed. This is a goal that I share, one that propels me to communicate in a way that inspires positive action and manageable objectives.

My daughter, Elizabeth, is only 16 months old, so I am not quite at the point where I’ll put on the parent hat during parent-teacher conference time. Yet I often wonder what Elizabeth’s teachers will share with my husband and me as our daughter grows from a toddler to a child to a young woman. What personality traits will emerge as she grows up and learns more about the world around her? Will her unyielding determination to figure out how those stacking cups work turn into a love of geometry? Does the way in which she babbles as she flips the pages of her books mean that we will have an eager, voracious reader on our hands? Is her sunny greeting of “hi, hi” to everyone she meets indicative of a friendly, engaging girl? Is her high-pitched, frustrated wail of toddler-hood a harbinger of a stubborn streak when things don’t go her way?

What will Elizabeth’s teachers say to my husband and me that will make our eyes twinkle, that will prompt us to lean in a little closer?  

 jennifer harrison earned her bachelors and masters degrees at vanderbilt and has taught in public and private schools since 1999. she currently enjoys chicago city life with her ER nurse husband, 16-month-old daughter elizabeth, and dog rowdy. when jennifer is not parenting or teaching, she loves to read, take pictures, travel, and search for the perfect latte.

[this is the first in a series of guest posts written by jennifer harrison, who was perhaps the only other person in my high school english classes who joined me in gleeful celebration when called up on to diagram sentences. jennifer’s posts will highlight how her vocation as an elementary school teacher informs her parenting, and vice-versa. her bio is located at the conclusion of her wise words.] 

I’m not a math person but I have recently been throwing together some numbers. The upcoming school year marks my tenth as a classroom teacher. Each year, I’ve taught about 20 kids. This means that in all, I’ve worked with roughly 200 students, not to mention about 400 parents. So, long before I began raising my own daughter, Elizabeth, I was introduced to the wonderful, complicated, emotional, and consuming business of parenting.

While I will begin this school year and its requisite parent partnerships with a good chunk of experience under my belt, I nonetheless approach my tenth class with new eyes: the eyes of a new mother, who fiercely loves her daughter and only wants the best for her. I know that each first grade parent I will meet next week was once just like I am now: constantly chasing after a toddler; looking at a little face and wondering what kind of person this small being will become; and hoping that a cheerful, babbling child will always know a happy and abundant life.

Throughout my years as a teacher, I have come to believe that there is one essential truth about parenting. All parents, no matter whether they are overbearing, laid-back, or somewhere in between, absolutely love their children. The way in which this love manifests itself is wildly different from parent to parent. Some parents wring their hands in fretful anxiety about what I, as a teacher, know is a minor bump in the road (if it’s even a bump at all!). Others celebrate every victory and milestone with endless flashes of the camera and small notes in lunchboxes. Still others occupy themselves with very demanding careers so that they can provide their children with a vast array of creature comforts and material things. Regardless of how hands-on or hands-off a parent may appear to be, their common fuel is their deep and abiding love of sons and daughters.

” Too often, we critically declare that this mother works too much, this father hovers around the school too frequently, or this couple places too many demands on their child.”

I think it is unfortunately too easy for so many of us — teachers, fellow parents, and the casual observers of society — to quickly, harshly judge parents. Too often, we critically declare that this mother works too much, this father hovers around the school too frequently, or this couple places too many demands on their child. It helps to remember that all of those parents once held a moments-old newborn in their arms. They have all become enraptured, as I have, with the enormity and the wonder of a life that is, as a friend so wisely put it, pure potential. That moment is the tie that binds us all together as parents. It is a tie that I now share with the 36 parents who will soon receive a letter from me in the mail. I now understand the eyes with which those parents will read that letter. This fresh perspective has renewed my commitment to my career, and it has reminded me of all that I hope Elizabeth and I will grow to be as mother and daughter.

jennifer harrison earned her bachelors and masters degrees at vanderbilt and has taught in public and private schools since 1999. she currently enjoys chicago city life with her ER nurse husband, 13-month-old daughter elizabeth, and dog rowdy. when jennifer is not parenting or teaching, she enjoys reading, photography, travel, and the quest for the perfect latte.

first name: Jenn

age: 32

current city: Chicago

living situation: I live with my husband, Tom, our one-year-old daughter, Elizabeth, and our six-year-old pooch, Rowdy, in the neighborhood of Logan Square. Despite the smaller square footage that is often inevitable in urban living, we have loved starting our family in the city and I will continue to maximize every square inch of our condo (you’re welcome, Container Store) so that we can raise Elizabeth as a city-dweller.

occupation: first grade teacher

how do you structure your time and space? Sometimes it feels like I’m “juggling” time and space instead of “structuring” them. My husband’s work schedule changes week to week, which created quite the juggernaut when it came to finding childcare. After countless phone calls, emails, and conversations that ended with “this just doesn’t seem to suit our needs, thank you for your time,” I scoured our neighborhood parent email list for any insights. This led us to a small, cheerful, and cozy daycare that is not only two blocks away, but also totally flexible and responsive to our crazy scheduling needs. The daycare has been an absolute lifesaver, and I love knowing that Elizabeth is already part of a little community of kids (that’s the teacher in me).

Because I am a teacher of young children, my work days are pretty much saturated with the needs, quirks, and personalities of kids, so I am very careful to handle all student-related issues at work (or on the bus on the way home – I begrudgingly decided that adding my work email to my phone can make my commute productive) so that I can focus on the needs of my own child when I’m home.

At home, my husband and I have made sure to keep Elizabeth’s bedtime consistent and the bedtime ritual short and sweet so that we can have time to actually sit down to dinner together after she’s in bed. I love this time of day. It’s our chance to have face-to-face talks and just unwind after a busy day of working and parenting.

using the metaphor of seasons to describe the phases of women’s lives,

-what are the particular challenges and highlights of your current season? First of all, it’s always dangerous to ask a Chicagoan anything that pertains to weather! That said, a clear blue sky shines outside my window and the flowers in my pots on the balcony are blooming like crazy, so I’ll choose to forget that I live in a city where winter’s grip can be paralyzing.

Today’s blue sky is perfect for where I am in my life these days. I’m off work, enjoying so many little moments with Elizabeth: her first steps; her symphony of babbles, coos, and first words; and the unbridled excitement with which she greets each day. This is like having another maternity leave, although this time it’s with a baby who is, to be completely honest, so much more fun than she was during my actual maternity leave (plus, this time I’m not fretting away about milk supply or frantically calculating how much sleep I might get if I go to bed right now). I love having the time to take long walks with my husband, Elizabeth, and our dog; opportunities for extended coffee & cocktail dates with friends; and time to hit the gym on a regular basis. The only challenge of this season is knowing that it will end!

-what season(s) preceded this one? During the months right before and immediately after Elizabeth’s birth, I was in a holding pattern for a while: straddling those last cold, dark days of winter and the early blossoming of spring’s promise. When I was six months pregnant, my youngest brother, Will, died in a car accident. He was only 19. The shock, the sadness, and the emptiness took my breath away over and over again. Will died in late March, just when winter was ending, but it felt like winter was all around me, despite Mother Nature’s signs. It turns out that Elizabeth, who was born less than four months after Will died, was my spring: full of promise and potential; always growing; constantly blooming. I, of course, have nurtured her, but she also nurtured me out of those dark days into a peaceful and abundant spring. I deeply miss Will every day and I know that I’ll never be completely the same without him, but Elizabeth has been my redemption.

-what season(s) might your future hold? “In the depth of winter I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer.” So said Albert Camus. For a few months after Elizabeth was born, I thought about this quotation a lot (it was a preferred badge during my graduate school phase of “decorate the apartment with quotes”), and I thought that Elizabeth was, both literally and figuratively, the “invincible summer” within me. But, as my grief over losing my brother has dissipated a bit, my perspective has become much broader. I see that not only Elizabeth, but also my husband, my siblings, my family, my friends, my love of my career, and—most importantly—my own spirit and resilience in the face of a cruel winter are the seeds for future summers.

favorite family activities: Our family is scattered across the country, so traveling continues to be a favorite pastime, baby and all. We also love taking walks, visiting our friends around the city, and taking advantage of Chicago’s plentiful parks, most especially the swings!

favorite solo activities: My husband indulged my fascination with photography and gave me a great camera—a Nikon D3000 DSLR—for Mother’s Day, so I am beginning to learn more about photography. I really enjoy seeking out small moments of interest or beauty and snapping a photo. I love reading, although I don’t do as much of it now as I used to. Oh, I am also a very amateur urban gardener with a nice collection of flower pots adding color to my balcony.

source(s) of inspiration: My husband, Tom, is an ER Nurse at a Level 1 Trauma hospital that serves some of Chicago’s poorest, most dangerous neighborhoods. He sees patients who are at the lowest possible points in their lives. He always reaches out to them with humanity and grace, finding great joy and meaning in his work. I stand in awe when he tells me about his days at work.

My sister, Elizabeth is younger than I am but I look up to her a lot. She has never been afraid to be wholly true to herself, which is precisely why we named our daughter after her.

best MakeShift moment: My best MakeShift moment occurred the first time I traveled solo with Elizabeth. I was feeling together, organized, and on top of things after wrangling a car seat, Snap ‘N’ Go base, diaper bag, breast pump, and eight-week-old Elizabeth through the ticket counter, security line, and drop-off point for the X-Ray machine. As I reached to take Elizabeth out of her seat, I saw that she was absolutely covered in poop. It was everywhere. As I went to grab her car seat off the conveyor belt so that I could put her down and regroup, the TSA guys said, “sorry, ma’m, you can’t take that off the belt once you’ve put it down.” So, I looked at him with a withering look and said, without a trace of irony, “Oh, so you’ll hold her, then?” Needless to say, I got the car seat back. (And I learned that it’s not a bad idea to pack my own spare shirt when tossing an extra Onesie in the diaper bag.)

[if you or someone you know would make a good “mother of invention,” please check out the nomination process and questionnaire located on the sidebar to your right.]