Before I was married and became a mother, I was a teacher. I
saw many things in my pupils of which I thoroughly
disapproved.
I promised myself that my children would never go to
school with long dirty fingernails. Sometimes, I just
didn't get to do that chore on time.
I was sure that no child of mine would ever arrive at
lunch hour without his prepared sandwich. There were days
when they ran for the bus and the sandwiches sat on the
kitchen table, forgotten.
I laughed at the girls whose stockings didn't match the
dress they wore that day. I ran into those days when all
the matching tights were buried in a pile of dirty laundry
and the daughter wore the hated red ones from the bottom of
the drawer.
Girls who claimed that they had no clean uniform to wear
and came with a dark skirt, but not one that was blue,
horrified me. There were days when every one of the three
blue skirts was soiled, ripped or wrinkled and a crying
daughter went to school minus a proper outfit.
I was certain that I would never be late with payments for
milk money, head lice checking, or a present for the
teacher. Sometimes the pressures of family life obscured
the need to find small change to send on time in a small
child's hand.
I was determined to raise children who would not be
chutzpadik to their teachers and thereby shame the
family. Very, very occasionally, I blush to admit that I
had to visit a Rebbe or teacher and apologize profusely for
the offending incident.
I was adamant that I would bring up a bunch of frum
kids, with yiras Shomayim in their hearts, whose
watchword was chessed. Baruch Hashem -- I didn't
stumble -- and that makes up for all the other failures.
So, if my reader is struggling with dirty laundry, poor time
management, piles of mending aand energetic children, please
learn to say, "So what?" and go for the big issues. In
another few years which I promise will fly by, only the
middos will matter. No child or teacher will remember
the lost lunch or the awful colored tights. Spend your
precious energy and time on more kind words and lots of moral
support.
Trade in your holey socks for a holy Neshama.
