Dear teachers of the world

Well, okay, dear teachers of my children and teacher friends on facebook. Look, I get it. You are fired up about being done with work for a few months in a few days. But enough already. Some of us still have to go to work. The day after my birthday every year I get a huge bonus that makes this job worthwhile. But I do not count down to it on facebook. I do not require you to come in to my office to prepare for its coming 3-6 times per child. It is every bit a reward for my hard work as your summers are for you. But it would be tasteless to gloat endlessly about it.

And yes, I will admit, you most certainly hear jealousy seeping into my tone. I am jealous. I want to sleep in for a couple of months and watch 90210 reruns for hours at a time. I want to work out without one eye on the clock the whole time and not fret about the late soccer game because I have to get home, pack my lunch for the next day, hustle wired kids to bed and be back in the office at the butt crack of dawn the next day. I want to take my kids to the park or the pool with a novel and a couple of juice boxes and waste away an afternoon. Me too. I’m in. But that ain’t my lot in life. Again, my choices. But, again, my job has enough advantages to keep me here month after month. I don’t rub that in your face a certain month every year.

In addition, what is with the bajillion “end of year” celebrations? I realize I have more than the average number of kids, but I was up until 11 last night making sure I met every requirement you set forth (water bottles—labeled!, other healthy drink--no pop!, hats, sunscreen—not to be shared with friends!-- (what else?), lunches (just peanut butter for Gracie, extra jelly for Sammy, carrot sticks for Claire), fitness clothes—no spaghetti straps!, tennis shoes…). Last week it was Grace’s class Mass and Claire’s “water day”, the week before Sam’s Mass and Claire’s “special person tea” (to which she thankfully invited Papa and Bridget to instead of Mom or Dad), the week before muffins with mom for Claire. This week was the author tea party for Grace, and next week is Sam’s end of year “accomplishments” celebration and Claire’s “walk to the park day”. It really has been about 3 events per child. (Except for Lucy—bless you, Theresa—for that small relief). Have mercy, teachers. I read every note you send home. I sign every permission slip. I participate in every silly sock day and dio de los muertos. I send them to school in the color you designate by class in the required shoes and head accoutrement (even when they require late night Wal-Mart runs and an insane level of artistic creativity). And I read to my kids and I pray with them every day. I bathe them and I feed them. I read every online newsletter and link to the school calendar on my blackberry. I pass up career opportunities to (try my darndest to) be a good mom. I’m no deadbeat. But I have to WORK. I have to work. An hour here or there may not be that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things. But how many times must I sit in a little plastic chair and try not to look at my watch to listen to songs I’ve learned by heart due to their frequent repetition (at top volume, usually when the baby is sleeping). How many cookies must I eat? (Well, okay. That part isn’t all bad).

I adore my babies. I love seeing what they are working on and visiting their classrooms. I want to support you and I want my kids to know that they mean infinitely more to me than any job ever will. But I do have to work! And I am not the only working parent in the school with more than one child to try desperately not to disappoint. And I have a boss I need to keep happy, too. So, can we spread it out a bit? I’m just as interested and adoring in October and March and every other month as I am in May and June.

And I am tired. And a little annoyed. And I have to work. My family (and, consequently, the tuition and tax dollars that fund YOUR salary) depend upon my income. I would LOVE to be a stay at home mom who spends hours licking envelopes and baking cookies for the benefit of my children’s education and self esteem. I really, really would. But I can’t. I could also have been a teacher, though my interests and talents did not lead me in that direction back when such choices were much more simple. So I get up and come here every day. June, July, and August, too. I realize this little push gets you over the hump to some well deserved R&R. But for the rest of us working moms, summer just adds one more layer of complication to our already very complex lives—how do we get kids rides to and from daytime camps? How do we plan meals and snacks for 3-4 picky, unpredictable little eaters for the 8 to 9 hours a day we aren’t with them? What state is our house (reasonably clean when we left it) going to be in when we return? Depending on the sitter, I have been known to return to 8-9 HOURS worth of messes, dirty dishes, and general chaos. Believe me, there is nothing remotely restful about catching up with 4 children who are capable of an exponential level of mess and clearing away breakfast and lunch clutter before even thinking about dinner.

So give us a break, huh? Believe me when I say my kids are already counting down the days to summer vacation. I am every bit as aware of the minutes between you and your freedom as you are. But I have to go to work on June 10. And every day until the snow flies. And then again every day until you’re counting down your days to next year’s summer vacation.

**Reader note: if you are wondering why you haven’t heard much from me in the past few weeks, please see paragraph 3