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Lesson Plans

Fwd: A story for moms

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Maahmaah (Maahmaah)
Fri, 1 May 1998 14:42:25 EDT

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Happy Mother's Day to all the mom's (and soon to be mom's!) out there!


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From: DEgreen <DEgreen>
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To: webitnow, April1, Maahmaah, PegoHear,
lsskater, jeff-terry
Subject: A story for moms
Date: Fri, 1 May 1998 11:19:42 EDT
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Hi! A friend (who has 8 kids) send me this; I thought you all would enjoy it
Have a great weekend!

"Tonight another break, a blizzard setting in and
a tornado of desperate men at large."
-- Canon City (1948)
"What do you DO all day?"

A few months ago, when I was picking up the children at school, another mother
I knew well, rushed up to me. Emily was fuming with indignation.

"Do you know what you and I are?" she demanded.

Before I could answer--and I didn't really have one handy--she blurted out the
reason for her question.

She had just returned from renewing her driver's license at the County Clerk's
office. Asked by the woman recorder to state her "occupation," Emily had
hesitated, uncertain how to classify herself.

"What I mean is," explained the recorder, "Do you have a job, or are you just

"Of course I have a job," snapped Emily. "I'm a mother."

"We don't list 'mother' as an occupation. 'Housewife' covers it," said the
recorder emphatically.

I forgot all about her story until one day I found myself in the same
situation, this time at our own Town Hall.

The Clerk was obviously a career woman, poised, efficient, and possessed of a
high-sounding title, like "Official Interrogator" or "Town Registrar."

"And what is your occupation?" she probed.

What made me say it, I do not know. The words simply popped out. "I'm...a
Research Associate in the field of Child Development and Human Relations." The
clerk paused, ball-point pen frozen in mid-air, and looked up as though she
not heard right. I repeated the title slowly, emphasizing the most significant
words. Then I stared with wonder as my pompous pronouncement was written in
bold, black ink on the official questionnaire.

"Might I ask," said the clerk with new interest, "just what you do in your

Coolly, without any trace of fluster in my voice, I heard myself reply, "I
a continuing program of research [what mother doesn't] in the laboratory
and in
the field [normally I would have said indoors and out]. I'm working for my
Masters [the whole darned family] and already have four credits [all
daughters]. Of course, the job is one of the most demanding in the humanities
[any mother care to disagree?] and I often work 14 hours a day [24 is more
it]. But the job is more challenging than most run-of-the-mill careers and the
rewards are in satisfaction rather than just money." There was an increasing
note of respect in the clerk's voice as she completed the form, stood up, and
personally ushered me to the door.

As I drove into our driveway buoyed up by my glamorous new career, I was
greeted by my lab assistants---age 13, 7, and 3. And upstairs, I could hear
new experimental model (six months) in the child-development program, testing
out a new vocal pattern. I felt triumphant. I had scored a beat on
And I had gone down on the official records as someone more distinguished and
indispensable to mankind than "just another..."