"You Are Not The Teacher"

My little girl adores her preschool teachers. And they are wonderful people. I've always had a lot of respect for teachers. Anyone who can corral a number of kids, get them to listen, learn and cooperate and still be sane at the end of the day when they go home to their own family, has earned my respect.

That being said, I am not hurt when my daughter (at 2 1/2) says to me, "You are not the teacher." True, I am not THE teacher. In addition to her preschool teachers, her dad and I are two of many people who "teach" her.  Her grandparents teach her about letters, how to spell, ride a bike, fold laundry and songs and games from our childhood, forgotten for so many years, but important once again. Her friends teach her games and how to share (we're still working on this one). Our families teaches her love and affection by their actions. Her teachers are everywhere- in the books she reads, the movies she watches, the examples set by those around her.

folding laundry with her Yaya

We reiterate a lot of those lessons at home. We teach her manners. We have taught her colors, shapes, animals, safe touches, and most recently, to read. Her Daddy taught her how to snowshoe and about her teeth. I teach her about cutting, drawing and painting. We teach her eveything we know- how to set and clear the table, how to get dressed and make good choices when choosing weather appropriate clothes. How to love.

This ensemble is not so appropriate for the snowy winter day she chose to wear it on.

We teach her how to cook and stir and be careful of hot pans (a lesson recently learned while she was helping make dinner). We teach her how to give, to volunteer, to enjoy life. We teach her to be thankful, to pray and to listen.




She is an observant child, our daughter. I often watch her watching others, wondering what she is thinking, trying not to overanalyze her curious expressions. She is honest and open (one of the many perks of this age) and is not afraid to tell me what she is thinking.

 

 

But most recently, she has started adding to her comment "I am the teacher."  I am guessing this is something she hears at school and is repeating, but I had a profound moment today where I realized how very true that statement is.  She has taught me so much since those moments she was placed in my arms. She has taught me things that cannot be learned from books or school. Like how much you can love. And just how fragile life is. She has taught me to appreciate the NOW because these moments right now will never be again. She has taught me that the best laid plans can change in an instant (because of an injury, a sick child or the words "I have to go potty!!!!"). She has taught me to be more flexible. She has taught me that doing things together (although not the way I had intended) can sometimes be more fun! And that is ok to relax and let my inner control freak get trampled upon from time to time. She has taught me that although we all mistakes. She has reminded me how much I love her dad and that our time together is important too. (We often race to see who can hug his first when he arrives home from work). She has taught me that I am really a better person when I am well rested. She has taught me to have patience. And to respect her opinion and occasionally indulge her, within limits, of course...

 

She wanted so badly to sleep next to her new luggage she got from friends!

Although not the photo I was going for, "I want to stand like this, Mama!" she proclaimed. I love it.



Three pieces of pie...ok (it was an All U Can Eat pie buffet!)

My little girl is right; she really is the teacher...

~Angela