This weekend is a good trial run for me because it is the longest I’ve ever been alone with the two kids. I realized before Lord Herndon even left for the job fair that it’s easy to think about having a large family when I know he is beside me, helping in every situation. It’s a very different feeling doing it all by myself! Everything reminds me of how much Lord Herndon actually does for us, from Princess eating the sidewalk chalk to the kids removing the game disc from the Wii to both of them screaming every time we try to get ready to go outside. The biggest adventures I could manage were going down to the park along the beach and making a quick trip to the small grocery store around the corner, and even those were fraught with peril. No church for us today. I know my limits.
Last night when I was putting Prince to bed, I came face-to-face with the monster I have become since teaching at this Turkish school. All day, Prince had been acting like a normal four year-old. He would ask the same question over and over to see if I really meant what I said. He would do something he knew he shouldn’t, only because I wasn’t watching at that moment. He was testing boundaries and learning along the way.
The problem was, that is what my sixth and seventh graders do all week long. They act like four year-olds. They ask me something as soon as I walk in the room, while my arms are still loaded with books. If I say no, I spend the rest of the 80 minute lesson repeating that answer as they ask me again and again, sometimes interrupting me to ask it, most of the time yelling it, and usually acting very dramatic while they ask. Many of my lessons start right after a 20 minute break, and the first thing that half the students ask is if they can use the bathroom. One student asks me something every single lesson I have with him, whether it is for the bathroom, the nurse, or the vice principal. He openly defied me last time and walked out the classroom after I had told him no. When they come back from the vice principal, especially after I have sent them there for wrestling with each other, swearing, or throwing things, they are oftentimes smiling. Smiling! After a visit with the vice principal for misbehavior! I’m sure he must be in there offering them a hug and a cup of tea! You can imagine how frayed our nerves become, how easy it is for us to lose our patience (especially when we know we have no administrative support, and that the students can essentially do whatever they want), how hard it is to actually engage these kids in a lesson. When I come back in to the staff room, Lord Herndon only has to look at my face to know what kind of lesson it was.
But this is the truth: I have become a monster. I shouted at Prince yesterday for asking me for the tenth time if he could have ice cream. I shouted at him for scrubbing the toilet with the brush and splashing water everywhere. I shouted at him for being silly and going limp-noodle when I was helping him put his shoes on. Then I shouted at him for asking, yet again, for more water in his bath after he’d been in there for almost 45 minutes and I’d already refilled it once.
When I finally lay down on the bed with him for our stories, songs, and prayer, I just burst out crying. I was so ashamed of myself. It was a harsh truth to accept: that I was this kind of mother. That I had let the world we live in get to me. That I had succumbed.
Prince kept wiping my tears off my cheek and saying “It’s okay Mommy. When Daddy comes home, you and Daddy can go to the park. Okay? It’s okay, Mommy. Just no more crying. Read the book. Read pigs and potatoes. No more crying.”
I spent a long time in prayer after the kids were asleep. As much as we love living here, Lord Herndon and I both feel that God is calling us out of the school. For that, we are thankful. I can only hope we shed some light in this place during our time here.
