Moms

This is the time each year when we all think about our moms. I think of mine, not just because of Mother’s Day, but also because of school graduations. Yes, my mother was a teacher. For more than 40 years, she was also a minor celebrity in the supermarket, since most of the checkout clerks and baggers had her as a fifth grade teacher.  She was a graduate of what was called, in her day, the New York Teacher’s Training School. As a petite 4 foot 10 inches feisty lady, she got through teacher training by putting the tallest kid in the room in charge of discipline.  Her heart was so big that she would raid my closet for shoes and clothes for kids she thought needed them more than I did.  My classmates thought I had it “made” having a teacher as my mother.  The truth, however, was that she refused to help me or my brother with school work because she felt it wasn’t fair to all the other kids in my class whose mothers were not teachers.  Go figure. Long after her retirement, I took her to the Trinity School in New Rochelle to observe artists in action in an ArtsWestchester residency program. She was ecstatic to know that, like her, I was helping kids. And, although I probably had her approval long before that moment, it was nice to hear. If your mom was a teacher too, let’s compare notes.