[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.

my husband and i are avid fans of the bravo show top chef, for its emulsion of culinary inspiration, thrilling competition, world famous guest chef appearances, and reality tv drama. but when my husband asked me to order him an “i heart padma” t-shirt from the internet, i knew that there was something (or shall i say someONE) else drawing andy to the show:  the beloved host and judge, padma lakshmi.

i thought about being angry about this, but who can blame a man for recognizing beauty when he sees it?

since we were out of town for the show’s season seven premier, we settled in last night to “meet” this year’s competing chefs. but i had a difficult time concentrating on the show’s content because i was so thrilled to meet someone else: post-partum padma.

after years of struggling with endometriosis followed by a miraculous and much-celebrated ten months of pregnancy, padma was back on the show just three months after the birth of her daughter with an extra 25 pounds to show for it.

though she initially felt pressure to return to her lean pre-pregnancy size before the show’s taping, she allowed a healthier voice to take over. “women are beautiful in all shapes and sizes,” she explained, “and I wanted to show women that you can dress well, that you can still feel sexy, that you can still feel confident, and it was OK if my boobs were big because I was feeding another human being.”

so taken was i by padma’s courage to refrain from hiding her curves in tent-like layers of post-partum flowiness, that i noticed something else about her that had never registered with me before. on her upper arm, padma has a red seven-inch scar that she makes no effort to hide.

padma admits that she was once very self-conscious about this mark left by a terrible car accident when she was 14. but now she says, “i love my scar. it is so much a part of me. i’m not sure i would remove it even if a doctor could wave a magic wand and delete it from my arm.”

our bodies are markers of what we’ve been through. scars, wrinkles, and gray hairs are well-earned. we expand to hold new life and contract as we nurse those we love with all that we have. we are walking artifacts of tragedy and victory, and every minor or monumental thing that has ever happened to us. why shouldn’t we bear these things, as imperfect as they may seem, to one another? they’re the very things we have in common as human beings.

bravo for padma for proudly embodying her experiences of both darkness and light. i’m thinking about ordering myself an “i heart padma” shirt now. what do you think?

[the quotations in this post are from vogue  and babycenter.]

dear readers,

i think that you and i are familiar enough with one another now that i can really show you the ropes. this makeshift parenting thing is serious business, and you can either hold your life together with a ladder, an old shoe, a cardboard chimney, an art frame, and some plastic bags, or you can bind up the chaos in a neat little package, held together by guilt and ridiculous expectations. choose wisely because it’s a matter of survival.

a year and a half ago, our family moved into our current home. in our previous home, all of the bedrooms were upstairs. in this home, the master bedroom is downstairs and the kids’ rooms are upstairs. this floor plan will be ideal in ten years, but for right now it presents some challenges.

one such challenge became an issue about a year ago, when the monkey learned how to hurl himself from his crib and onto the floor. we quickly moved him to a toddler bed, which was kind of like moving a child from a prison cell to a candy store. suddenly, the monkey was bouncing off the walls in his room during nap time, and it wasn’t long before he was spotted fondling pins and needles in my sewing nook and teetering dangerously down the stairs!

many parents would take these as signs that the two-and-a-half year old had grown out of his need for naps. but i wasn’t ready to face this notion.

then, one sunday morning, i preached a really crazy sermon on the good samaritan that involved costumes. after googling “samaritan” and discerning that a blue miss america-style banner was needed to clad this particular character, i fashioned such an accessory and schlepped it off to church with the other props. and then, as i was in the middle of proclaiming the text, i gazed over at the church member who was playing the part of the samaritan, and an idea came to me. it was a simple solution, really, and one that has drastically enhanced our quality of life.

before you dial the number to child protective services, you should know that the doorknob is tied to the railing with a slip knot. one pull of the end of the stole (if you will), results in instant freedom for the monkey — in case of a fire, for example.

judge me if you want to. i think this makeshifting idea was a sign from god.