AUTHOR: Sara TITLE: Mothers . . . DATE: 1/20/2005 08:54:00 PM ----- BODY:

Parent/teacher conferences are going on right now. Today I met with M's mother, who is from the country of Jordan. She is an interesting, vibrant woman to speak with, our long multicultural conversation on Ramadan was the last we had before today. Now, not only is her son that is in my classroom one of the most beautiful children I have ever seen, he has 10 brothers that look just like him. Yes, she has 10 children of elementary and middle school age and then three more in high school. 13 children . . . baffling, really. During today's discussion of M's grades, she suddenly reached across the table and grabbed my hand. With her thick accent, she asked me softly, "Why don't you have children? You talk of my son like he is your own." I immediately began scanning the table for my box of kleenex because I knew the tears were coming, but when I saw all of those children looking at me, waiting for my answer, I tried to contain the waterworks for their sake. I told her we were trying, but had difficulties in the past. She shook her head and said, "You have been blessed with so many boys in your classroom (I have 21 boys and 7 girls) because you will have many of your own." Ironically, this is my long-running joke with everyone, that God is preparing me for boys because for two years now, I have these large numbers of boys in my classroom. Her comment soothed me and when she grabbed my other hand and began to pray in foreign tongue, I politely bowed my head, too, and squeezed her hands. Even though I didn't know what she was saying, it just felt right. She opened her eyes a few moments later and said, "Not long now. I have asked for my luck to be passed on to you. I am done having children." Isn't that amazing? Sometimes I lose faith in my children's parents. One student recently told me they couldn't do their homework because the power has been shut off for 3 days and there was no light to see. Another brings a moldy sandwich to lunch, so I end up giving her mine. And then a mother prays with you, in words you don't even understand, and it makes your day feel just a little brighter.

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