By Caitlin Van Hefty 
To the teacher mama,
I see you. I see you trying to balance it all—a stack of graded papers in one hand and a diaper bag in the other. You’re flying out the door with a coffee stain on your shirt and a crying toddler on your hip.
I see you gripping that steering wheel, willing traffic to let up and your heart to slow down, craving just a little more time to center yourself before that first morning bell rings.
I see you in the hurried morning rush, setting up your classroom in the aftermath of daycare drop-off. You are bleary-eyed from yet another night of teething and midnight snuggles. Your brain feels scattered with thoughts from both worlds colliding. Did I pack a sun hat for my youngest today? I need to make that pediatrician appointment. Did I pick up my copies for today’s literacy project? I need to make that phone call home this afternoon. Do we have enough milk for the rest of the week? Do I have time to stop at the store after the staff meeting?
I see how much you give, mama. Little humans start marching through that door, and your smile is so genuine. You’ve created a space where children feel seen, heard, and loved. You spend six hours a day guiding your students, pushing them to stretch their minds, their boundaries, their world perspectives. You are a mentor, a coach, a cheerleader. You spend countless hours building relationships, planning lessons, and collaborating with others to make their day meaningful. You care about their success, and not just on their literacy and math reports. You care about every angle of who they are now, and for the people they will become.
I see you on your lunch break, mama, checking your phone for any missed calls. Your oldest son had a runny nose this morning. You wonder if maybe he felt a little warm. You wonder if you should stay a bit late and make sub plans, just in case. You wonder if there’s a way to duplicate yourself, to exist in two places at once, as you navigate everyone’s needs. You wonder if those germs will spread around your household and who might be next. You feel that familiar anxiety creeping in, a schedule’s equilibrium being thrown off kilter. You frantically look at your planner, trying to figure out what can be shifted, modified, ignored.
I see you, mama, carrying the weight of your students’ lives on your shoulders. Listening to their stories, the joyful ones and the ones that break your mama heart. At times, you wish you could take them home with you. You wish you could fix it for them. And although this weighs on you, it also reminds you to hug your own babies a little bit tighter. You empathize with families on a deeper level than ever before. You understand the depths of a parent’s love, and you let this guide you during tough moments and hard conversations.
I see you at your desk, mama, at the end of a very long day. You are wondering if you can do it all. If you can spread your arms wide enough to wrap around your family and your students. I see you doubting yourself at times, questioning how you can juggle all of your responsibilities or how to find the energy to even try.
Everyone tells you to “find the perfect balance.” But I’m here to tell you, mama, there isn’t one. Each day is an ebb and flow of making sacrifices. You are constantly redefining your priorities. Stay true to what you know, mama. Showing up for your children and your students means showing them how to be human. So stay genuine. Stay vulnerable. Stay focused on relationships and connections instead of perfectly crafted lesson slides or trivial tasks. Say “I’m proud of you.” Say “I’m sorry.” Say “I’m struggling right now.” Be transparent in setting boundaries and reaching out for help. It’s okay to mess up sometimes. It’s how we all learn and grow, no matter the age.
You’re doing an amazing job, mama. I see you.
by Kelsey Scism 
