Thursday, July 11, 2013

Professor Mommy

My sole ambition in life as a youngster was to become a university professor.  In fact, I wanted to be a professional student, racking up countless PhDs and teaching only very select students.  I imagined myself quite happily buried under mountains of books until my hair turned grey, imparting the best of what I had learned to others.  It was the only way I felt I could truly satisfy my passionate lust for education.  Life, however, has a way of altering both one's plans and perspective.

God surprised me twice in less than two years by making me a mother to two adorable little angels.  The scholar within me, still aching to come unleashed, found some solace in reading to these two toddlers, in teaching them about languages, linguistics, mathematics, religion, history, music, art, biology and the like.  Now ages six and seven, my little ones don't remember the first time I introduced them to the works of Charles Dickens, Mozart's Don Giovanni, the accomplishments of Dr. Louis Pasteur, or the history surrounding World War II.  Yesterday, over folding a basket of clean laundry I explained to them some quantum physics about which I had read the night before. 

So what's my point?  It's well and good to be a university professor.  We need them.  Their roles are extremely important, and if I ever have the chance to follow my dream, I certainly will.  But the most important mortal teacher in this world is not the one who stands before a lecture hall.  It is the one who rocks the cradle.  Mothers, take the time to improve your mind and expand your horizons.  You owe it not only to yourself but to the children you teach.  Their lives will be blessed beyond measure by a mother who can teach them, in their own innocent language, the mysteries, history, beauty and wisdom of the world around them and the infinite, individualized potential within them.   

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