Stocking: The village raising my kids

Several years ago, Hillary Clinton (perhaps you’ve heard of her?) wrote a book titled “It Takes a Village.” She was talking, of course, about the village it takes to raise a child. Expectedly, many people disagreed with her, and also expectedly, not respectfully. I was young then (okay, younger) and I remember thinking it was crazy talk that it takes a village to raise a child. But now I’m a single mom and I’ve been thinking a lot about my village.

We should be clear about one thing: I had a village before I became a single mom. I am now of the more-educated opinion that every kind of mom has a village (and if she doesn’t have a village, she should get one). I have just become more aware of my village recently and am so grateful for them.

With another school year ending and the first weeks of summer break behind us, I want to talk about part of that village: the teachers who had my kids six to seven hours a day for the last nine months.

Those teachers are a part of my village. I wonder if they know that?

I remember sitting down with McKay’s fourth grade teacher at parent-teacher conferences in January and explaining to him my concerns about McKay’s social skills. He understood what I was saying because he shared the same concerns. We discussed ways to help McKay, and what he could do at school to support what I was doing at home. He was part of my village and supporting me in raising my child.

Kilee loved an art teacher she had this year, but I remember my daughter getting very frustrated at one point because she only earned a B on a particular assignment. The teacher had a rubric and expectations set for an A. Kilee’s work didn’t meet that expectation, even though Kilee is an exceptional student. However, that teacher was determined to help Kilee reach, to learn, to excel. Kilee took that B and worked even harder to earn an A. That teacher showed my daughter that talent just wasn’t enough; Kilee needed to work hard too.

High school teachers probably have the greatest impact on my little village. Every day I pray for those teachers. (You think I’m kidding. I’m not.) They have a hard job. Every hour they get a new group of kids walking in their door, and those teachers know the kids’ names, what the kids are interested in and what is going on at home.

This past year, high school teachers kept my junior on track: supporting his baseball habit but never letting him fall behind. I remember emailing one teacher (now retired) about Tanner’s grade and asking what we could do and that teacher emailed me back and said, “Grades aren’t everything. Your son is one of the kindest kids I know.” In other words, “I know you worry about his grades, Mom, but some things are more important.” I need my village to tell me that, to help me see what really matters.

I can’t list all the amazing teachers my kids have had, but I know I am ever so grateful for this village full of good people who want my kids to succeed, who have the knowledge, tools, and training to help them succeed. One week into summer, and I appreciate again everything they do day in and day out for my kids. My job now is to not undo all the good they did last year.