I've thought a lot about yesterday's post. Someone who didn't know me might think I don't like my students or that I resent them. I don't. I neither dislike nor resent my students. I just have such an overwhelming feeling of guilt right now because of all the time I spend each day focusing on "pebbles" and "sand."
Yesterday, I received approval to take an additional three weeks of Family Medical Leave to help my Mom and Dad in whatever way they need right now. This may not seem all that groundbreaking, but for me this represents a sea-change.
You see, my wife and I had both of our daughters before I finished school. That meant I did not get to use FML after their birth to help my wife and provide care for my daughters.
For years, I would watch other, younger teachers take off six weeks of work starting with the birth of a child. I mocked them. I ridiculed them. I accused them of taking a long vacation while the rest of us had to work. I saved special derision for those who managed to finagle a birth to land right after Christmas break ended. That meant they not only got Christmas, but they also did not have to endure the endless stretch from January until Spring Break. All of these horrible thoughts happened only in my head, but I thought them.
How easily we can fall into the trap of not trying to understand the individual decisions that lead people to take FML. As a jaded "veteran" parent, I had forgotten how terrifying it feels when the hospital actually allows that tiny baby to leave the hospital with Mom and Dad. Thinking back now, I remember telling my wife, "Don't they know that we do not know what we are doing?!?" Apparently, they did, because they let me wheel my wife through the doors, baby carrier in tow, and venture out into our new life together. Years later I know that, for the most part, babies won't break. But in those first weeks after childbirth, how overwhelming can it feel as you and your spouse "figure it out" together?
So, here's my official apology:
To Tim, Pauls, Brad, Travis, Chris, John, Andy, Brian, and so many others:
I'm so sorry for judging you without thinking about your individual situations and appreciating the circumstances that led you to take FML. I know that you didn't take off to fish, hunt, golf, backpack, travel, or "veg."
Deep down, I knew this then, but more than likely jealousy at my own bad timing led me to hold these men in such low regard. Today, I understand this more than ever because I can imagine the comments people make about my absence in the staff lounge, in the classroom, or in the parking lot.
Now that my Mom's cancer is Cancer, I have taken FML to help care for my Mom. Back in October, I missed a week of work after my Mom fell ill after learning that doctors could not treat her Cancer anymore. I returned for a single day, and some students and most staff empathized with my situation.
Some students, though, approached me and asked me how I enjoyed my week off. I remember feeling so angry at them for that. After the week I had experienced, how dare they think I took a week "off?" Looking back with some fresh perspective, how will some 17 and 18-year-old kids respond to a situation like that? Do all students even have the capacity to empathize or sympathize? Maybe some of them felt I had managed to get a week's vacation in the middle of the semester. The point is, just like I didn't understand my younger colleagues earlier in my career, some of my students could not understand my situation.
That Monday night I received word that doctors had admitted my Mom to the hospital, so I rushed down to see her. When my Dad and younger sister told me that the doctors felt she would die without immediate hospitalization, I just fell apart. I didn't wail or cry - I just ceased to function. I could only "feel" fear that my Mom might die that night. I needed more time. I needed to apologize for my pettiness at some perceived slight or injustice. I needed to squeeze in all of the missed visits (intended and unintended) into that night. Here's a secret: when you know your Mom could die right then, nothing else matters. Not work. Not bills. Not toys. Not even yourself.
I missed two more days of work when my principal, Dr Ann Schultz, talked to me on the phone and snapped me out of my funk. She didn't give me a long lecture. She said, "Jeff, have you considered taking FML?"
Then I balked, trying to tell Ann that I needed to be at work for my students.
She stopped me cold when she said, "Jeff, you only have one Mom. You only have one chance to be there for her like this."
Again, I paused. Ann's next words sliced through me like a razor: "I know what I would do if it were my Mom."
That's when it hit me. THIS is why advocates pushed so hard to get the Family Medical Leave Act passed. So people like me wouldn't have to worry and think about their job, about the "pebbles" in their life. Instead, they could focus on the "golf balls," especially on those occasions where nothing else matters.
Now that my Mom's cancer is Cancer, I understand why we have to put the golf balls into the jar first. If only I had figured that out earlier. Because now that my Mom's cancer is Cancer, I have so much to do but so little time.
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