Category: Building character

Daunting

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

main-content-management-imageBecause I grew up in a single parent family led by a strong and confident woman I am strong willed and independent. Had my husband, Mike, not been nurtured by a mother who was an equal to mine in her commanding presence he might have struggled with my personality after we married forty eight years ago today. I suppose that the real me may have been a bit of a surprise to him. I was a month shy from being twenty years old on that Friday when I walked down the aisle to exchange vows. We were still in that tingly romantic stage of our relationship. Both of us were on our best behavior. As so often happens our true selves ultimately revealed themselves in the day to day routines that evolved and Mike noticed that I was not exactly the person that he thought I was.

I’m a daunting competitor who likes to win. Since nobody ever mentioned to me that women are expected to fulfill certain roles and that we are supposed to struggle in a man’s world, as a young bride I simply threw myself full force into handling the household and preparing for a career. I was not held back by beliefs that there were glass ceilings above me or that I wouldn’t get as fair a shake as the men with whom I interacted. I carried on the way my mother did after my father died, unafraid to try almost anything. Of course Mike had unwittingly provided me with the last bit of courage that I needed to emulate the confidence that I had always seen in my mom. I had been socially shy and uncomfortable around men before I met him mostly because I had not been around males very much. Mike taught me that I could hold my own with a man and he admitted at every turn that he was my biggest fan. With him in my corner I felt able to tackle any problem that came my way, which was fortunate because I would have to muster great courage to become a lifelong advocate for my mom when she began to show signs of her bipolar disorder.

As I evolved in my marriage and my role as a woman I had perhaps the two best role models possible in my mother and my mother-in-law. I witnessed both of them walking without fear into the fray of what was at that time a truly male dominated world. They encouraged me to follow my dreams no matter where they might lead. My mother-in-law in particular gave me the priceless gift of her time, often rescuing me when one of my children was sick by coming to babysit while I went to work. When I had a job that kept me at work until late in the evening she faithfully came to my home each afternoon so that my youngsters would not have to be latchkey kids. She prepared dinner to give me a break when I arrived home exhausted. While these may sound like very traditional womanly duties they came accompanied with profound advice that kept me feeling that I was doing the right thing in pouring myself so totally into my work.

Then there was Mike who never complained when I became absorbed in the many time consuming aspects of being a successful educator. My days and nights and weekends were filled with planning, grading, attending seminars, and working toward an advanced degree. I often spent more time with my students and our daughters than I did with him but he understood my need to perfect my craft and to give my all to the work that I thought to be so important. He took pride in my accomplishments and supported me without question even as he sometimes sacrificed his own needs. To this very day when I become involved in new pursuits his only bit of caution is that I do what makes me happy, not what I think that other people may want.

I suppose that the key to the success that Mike and I have achieved in our marriage is that we are truly best friends in every sense of the word. Neither of us has ever felt that one is superior to the other. We equally value the contributions that each of us has made to the partnership. While I compete with the world at large, neither of us feel compelled to outrank the other. We are truly coequals, each with different skill sets that are important to the family. There are no jealousies or fears. We can be ourselves and feel completely safe. Nothing in forty eight years has given either of us reason to believe that we cannot trust the other without reservation. Ours is a union of mutual respect and admiration.

I suppose that my circumstances have been fortunate in that my brand of feminism is a bit different from most. I did not grow up around domineering men, instead I watched a widow woman earn a college degree, work as a teacher and researcher, purchase and pay for a home, raise three well adjusted children and lead a profoundly happy existence all without assistance from a man, while also battling the horrifically debilitating symptoms of mental illness. I married a man who gave me total freedom in determining how I wanted to use my own talents and then became my most devoted cheerleader. As if that wasn’t enough to encourage me to be formidable in my interaction with the world, my mother-in-law became a source of limitless wisdom as I drew upon her experiences as the manager of a family electrical business, the chief financial officer of a mega church, and a well read student of history and politics. Based on the complaints that I hear from women today I suppose that I was too blessed and too ignorant to realize that I was not supposed to feel as equal to men as I always have.

I grew up in what is defined as a classically dysfunctional family. We were poor and had no father. Because of my mom’s optimism and strength, somehow the situation never felt that terrible. I married a man when I was too young to have enough sense to make things work but our love and respect for one another carried us through both triumph and tragedy year after wonderful year. My incredible mother-in-law served as a sounding board and a sterling example of what a determined woman might accomplish even when all of the world is telling her that she may not have the right stuff. These are the people that I knew and the privileges that I had that made me the woman that I am. As daunting as the world may sometimes be I have always been able to tackle it. The real key to my success as a woman has not been in having some kind of special sources of influence, because I have never had any, but in being valued and loved.

No Excuses

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

no-excuses-300x200A life is touched by what is happening on the worldwide stage and what is happening inside the privacy of a home. Each of us evolve from the basics of our DNA through the millions of great and small interactions that we have with life outside of our own bodies and souls. Whether our existence is isolated or played on a global stage we become unique individuals based on everything that happens to us and the way in which we choose to adapt to our circumstances. Our destinies are driven both by our free wills and our circumstances. How we view life and react to its challenges is influenced by what we have seen and heard but ultimately each of us has the capacity to direct the ways in which we face down difficulties. Nobody is immune to troubles but many learn to deal with them with courage and optimism.

One of the highlights of my career as an educator came when I worked for a KIPP Charter School. Much like humanity it was not a perfect system but it got most things right. The founders liked to use slogans, something that is usually a bit annoying to me. There was one, however, that spoke loudly and clearly to my soul, “No Excuses.” I had based most of my life on that very concept and I had found it to be a saving grace. When I spoke to my students of overcoming difficulties I was not just some middle class maven from the suburbs attempting to sacrifice myself to kids from harsh circumstances. I had walked in their shoes. I understood what it was like to grow up with economic and social challenges. I knew them, not from books and theories but from my own story. What I also understood was that they didn’t have to be trapped in a forever world of poverty and want. I had used my talents to escape from the cycle that had daunted my family for generations and I knew that they had the power to do so as well.

So many of our leaders are kind hearted souls who only imagine what life is like for the have nots in our society. They generously work to improve conditions for people but have never known the feelings that come from want and dysfunction. They went to plush doctors’ offices as children rather than sitting for hours in a public clinic or a hospital emergency room because their parents had insurance and the funds to pay deductibles. They don’t possess any real concept of the fears and the troubles that so many children in our society endure on a daily basis, but I do.

Long ago I went to a movie with my husband when we were still dating. I can’t recall much about the film but there was one scene that has stuck with me forever. The hero of the story was a poor boy from quite sad circumstances. He had earned a scholarship to a renowned university where he managed to pose as someone from a successful family by dent of his intellect. He met a beautiful and well to do young woman and the two of them fell in love. She was anxious for him to meet her family and so in time she arranged for the two of them to spend a weekend at her home. When he saw the luxury in which his girlfriend had lived for all of her life he was suddenly overwhelmed. In one scene he opened the refrigerator to see a cornucopia of plenty. He was mesmerized by the sight of fruits and vegetables and snacks of every variety all there for his taking at any time of day. His girlfriend was unable to understand why the sight of a full larder had so affected him, but I knew exactly what was happening in his mind. I had never seen such a vision of edible riches either. In fact, there were many times toward the end of a month when the inside of the refrigerator in my home was almost bare. I momentarily shifted nervously in my theater seat as I watched the movie unfold because I realized that my date, who would later become my spouse, had experienced a far more comfortable existence than I had. I related far more easily to the poor of all races than with the white middle class.

As a child I was driven by both fear and determination to use my talents to ultimately loosen the grip of poverty and uncertainty that had so often dogged my family after my father died. As an adult I made it my vocation to show young people the way out of economic want. I had learned that excuses about my past only proliferated my problems. I took command of my destiny and worked my way out of the difficulties that had stalked me and my ancestors for generations. I realized that I lived in a time when there were far more opportunities for success than there were excuses for standing still.

I learned much from my mother and my teachers about hard work and diligence. I was often slammed by circumstances but I watched and learned and kept moving forward even when it was painful and I was exhausted. I used my wits and my hard work to achieve a lifestyle that is comfortable and secure. For decades I attempted to teach my students the same skills and attitudes and many of them have succeeded beyond their wildest dreams. I suspect that they accepted my advice because they somehow knew that I was real when I told them that I understood.

It is laudable for the wealthier classes to work for the good of the less fortunate but they so often underestimate the gravity of dire situations and the pride of those who endure economic challenges. It is painful to hear someone pontificating about parents who have been unable to provide for their children. It does little good to publicly point to the obvious. Kids in difficult circumstances want to be shown the way to improve their lot without attention being placed on the things that they lack. They also desire a bit of understanding and compromise when they struggle to meet expectations.

I recall a young man who needed to work each summer to add to the family income. The school insisted that he participate in a formal internship program that provided mentoring and experience but no money. He stood his ground and asked that he be given credit for doing his job. The hapless administrator was unable to see that the knowledge and skills that he gained in securing employment, clocking in each day, and saving his funds for a rainy day was in reality as valuable as the internship that she had designed. Sadly she demonstrated to this student and his family that she was clueless about the reality of their lives.

I saw many such situations play out over and over again. Teachers were often ignorant of the juggling acts that students had to endure just to exist. So many of our kids quietly attempted to work at low paying jobs in the evenings and still keep up with the assignments from their teachers. They often existed on fewer than four hours of sleep. Their health declined and so did their grades. They were unwilling to share their stories with adults who seemed unable or unwilling to understand their dilemmas. Instead they became known as slackers who quietly bore the brunt of insults about their character. Adults from a different socio-economic world often were unable to comprehend the challenges that their students faced.

Those who struggle in our society do not require our pity. In fact they rarely want it. Instead they need someone to show them how to escape from the ravages of want and need. It is fine to give them some financial assistance but we can’t just write a check and then leave. Through our schools we can teach the poor how to navigate in a world of plenty. We can show them how hard work and determination are the keys to ending their pain. We must help them to channel their toughness and let them know that the journey will indeed be difficult but well worth the effort. The KIPP schools are making headway but they only reach a small number of students in the grand scheme of things. There are still far too many children who are being sent through their childhoods like widgets on a conveyer belt. The real key to social justice lies inside classrooms across the country. The changes that people need are made one child at a time by adults who are willing to make the effort to build true relationships with our youth. That takes understanding and time. Those things cost very little but will return profound dividends. Of this I am certain because it is the story that I have lived. We have no excuses for ignoring what we must do to begin the process of eliminating poverty.

Last Chance U

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment
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Last Chance U

It seems as though I have been watching a bit more television lately than I probably should. I suspect that it is because the daily rains have made me a bit more homebound or perhaps because I spent most of July on the road and now I prefer to hibernate at home for a time. Soon I will be traveling again to Colorado and then will resume my math tutoring at two different schools. I’m slacking off before getting back into a daily routine.

Last night I watched three episodes of the Netflix documentary Last Chance U. I’m not particularly enthralled by football as a topic but this series is really a kind of psychological and sociological study which of course fascinates me. It focuses on the football team of East Mississippi Community College, a school that won the Junior College National Football Championship the year before the story was filmed. It is a place where misfit athletes come for one last shot at a spot on a powerhouse university team or a job with the National Football League.

Most of the players have talent but for one reason or another have been relegated to the football ash heap. Some were once highly recruited high school players who got into trouble at the universities that gave them scholarships. They skipped classes, made failing grades, missed practices, ignored curfews or broke the law. Some did all of the above. All were summarily dismissed. Others demonstrated amazing athletic skills in high school but were unable to muster high enough grades or test scores to win admission to a major or even minor university. These young men came to East Mississippi hoping to get one more more opportunity to reach the big time. The coach there is well known for resurrecting hopes and dreams.

The stories of each of the players resonate loudly with me. I have seen so many young people with similar baggage. I have learned how difficult it is for some kids to succeed athletically when they have pronounced academic deficiencies. I often wonder where I would be today if I had been required to meet certain sporting requirements in addition to mastering the knowledge and skills of my profession. I suspect that I would still be working at a low level job without hope of ever earning a degree. Somehow it doesn’t seem right that a gifted athlete must also carry a certain average to remain eligible to play a particular sport. I understand the idea that a university is first and foremost a center for learning but what about those who truly struggle to learn but who have a very special talent to share with the world?

I once had a student who was a star in every sporting arena. Regardless of what he tried athletically he was a standout. It might be said that he was the athletic valedictorian of the school. Unfortunately he was a special education student with multiple learning difficulties. He struggled with reading and was never quite able to pass his senior year Exit exams. With great assistance he managed to earn a high school diploma but nothing about his academic credentials enticed a university to risk offering him a scholarship. He set his dreams of playing professionally aside and learned a trade after graduating. He has done well and I am quite proud of his efforts but I often wonder where he would be today if our society had a more realistic attitude about young people like him. What if someone had offered him the opportunity to do what he does so well without expecting him to demonstrate mastery of the things that baffle him?

Oddly I often saw this young man as being much like me. We both had enormous gifts and talents. Mine happened to be academic. His were athletic. We also had disabilities. I tripped over my own feet and he struggled to read. The difference was that I was allowed to follow my dreams without having to prove my physical prowess but he was barred from doing so simply because he lacked certain academic skills. There is an unfairness in that.

At East Mississippi Community College the coaches, teachers and an academic advisor work with the young men to help them through the challenges that have heretofore blocked their way forward. It is a place of redemption as long as the players are willing to put in some effort. They must attend all of their classes, complete assignments and ask for help when they need it. Four year colleges and pro teams scout them. Many of the former players at the school have found the success that had at one time seemed to be so elusive. The adults guiding them use a combination of tough love and encouragement to keep them motivated. Some of the young men make it and some burn out.

I wish that we had more adults to help struggling students to achieve their goals whatever they may be. Far too many of our youth come from environments that do little to encourage them. For example one of the players featured in the program witnessed his father killing his mother and then turning the gun on himself. He was only five years old when he endured this trauma and it is all too apparent that he continues to harbor abandonment issues that make it difficult for him to trust anyone. Another young man flunked out at his previous university. He is married and has a child. He wants to do the right things but he often becomes stressed and worried that he is wasting time when he might do better if he were to simply quit and get a regular job to support his family. Too many of the players come from high schools where the expectations were so low that they graduated without really learning much of anything. Their academic advisor definitely has her hands full but she is doing a yeoman’s job, something that we need more of in all of our schools.

Ultimately all of the players have to man up. Only they have the final power to make the efforts needed to change the directions of their lives. In the end their story is about salvation and whether or not they have enough drive to make their final chance count. The stakes are high and I find myself rooting for them not just on the field but as they navigate the world as well. It’s been said that a mind is a terrible thing to waste but then so too is it a tragedy to fritter away any kind of talent. In Last Chance U we watch young men from broken homes and economic uncertainty as they struggle to piece together the fragments of their lives. It is a high stakes game and one which I desperately hope that each of them will win.

Finding the Gold Within

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

Olympic-Rings-large_trans++X9gqeEfKXQcqd954t2rXzvTSL8SM4yNVj_ZSDGesqAMEvery four years we become divisive and we also come together. The coincidence of our Presidential election and the games of the summer Olympics creates a kind of love/hate situation in living rooms, at dinner tables and in neighborhoods across our nation. On the one had we speak of issues that divide us into camps and on the other we join together in cheering the best among us. There is a kind of irony in the magnitude of our difference and our sameness that fights for dominance over who we are as a people.   

The Greeks were one of the first nations to experiment with democracy. Theirs was a far cry from the present day government of the United States but the basic elements were there, at least for a handful of the citizens. Women were excluded as were many from lower economic classes and those believed to be outsiders. There were no representatives. Instead it was a system based on one vote for each eligible person with a simple majority determining the fate of any proposal. It was democracy in its purest form. It was the start of a grand experiment that would evolve over time and undergo many iterations. It would be hundreds of years before the grand idea of democracy morphed into a less chaotic and inclusive way of running a more just and fair system.

The Greeks were innovative people who instituted the Olympic games to celebrate the power and beauty of the human body and to bring the people together in harmonious competition. Back then the games were rather simple and the participants performed their athletic feats in the nude. Citizens gathered to watch the events and to cheer for their favorite contestants. The games provided a nice distraction from the hardships of daily life and the continuous discussions and battles that were an inevitable by-product of human attempts to live in harmony. 

The modern day Olympic games attract challengers from over two hundred countries and feature a variety of sporting events that the Greeks of old would not recognize. The athletes come with an array of coaches and specialized equipment. They train for years and rise through the ranks to become contenders for gold medals in their specialties. Just as in days of old there are national heroes among them as well as those deemed so extraordinary in their abilities that they are cheered as heroes by everyone.

The road to the Olympics begins in ordinary ways. A young child joins a neighborhood swim team or runs across a field with the speed of a deer. Somewhere an adult notices the talent and suggests that perhaps a bit of training may help the individual to improve. The most gifted youngsters demonstrate not just natural aptitude but a willingness to devote inordinate amounts of time and money to both learning and competition. Everyone can see that there is indeed something quite special that differentiates the best athletes from their peers. They and the adults who guide them are willing to work long and hard. They do not allow challenges to defeat them. Their quest for excellence becomes a focus for them and their families. Everyone sacrifices. Eventually they excel in the neighborhood, in the city, in the state, in the country and the world.

Few of us have the talent, the inclination, the support or the resources to embark on a journey to the Olympic games. It takes a very special set of circumstances indeed to be among the best in the world and yet every four years we are fascinated by the variety of stories that each of the participants bring to the games. From them all of us become inspired to achieve just a bit more in our own lives. The heroes of the Olympic games are the stuff of legends, human iterations of the gods of old.

My fascination with the Olympics began when I was still in elementary school. I watched an old black and white movie about Jim Thorpe and I was hooked. It told the tale of a native American who seemed able to perform any sort of athletic feat more ably than any of his peers. He came from poverty and want but on the field of competition he was glorious, winning at seemingly anything that he tried. Eventually he found glory and gold at the Olympic games. Sadly, different rules of the day and his own ignorance of them eventually resulted in a decision to strip him of all of his medals simply because he had once played on a semi-professional team to support himself. I remember feeling crushed by the unfairness of what happened to him but still regarding him as amazing.

Perhaps the greatest Olympic story of all is that of Jesse Owens who dominated the games in Munich at a time when Adolf Hitler was intent on spreading the myth of a super race of white men so perfect that they would be able to dominate the entire world. It visibly angered the dictator to watch a black man disprove his theories and served as a reminder to everyone that there is potential greatness in all of us regardless of background or race. The Olympic games have served time and again as the great equalizer that disregards the often faulty thinking of mankind.

During the next couple of weeks we have so many opportunities to watch the most remarkable men and women doing their best not just to represent their respective countries but to demonstrate the power of the human spirit. It is a time when we might teach our young that no worthy goal ever comes easily but with determination we all have the potential to realize our dreams. The games demonstrate, as one of the relentless commercials says, that all of us have gold inside our veins. We were born with abilities just waiting to be released and it is up to each of us to find out what those skills are and how we might use them to better ourselves and the world around us.

I watch the swim competitions and think of hot summer afternoons when I witnessed my grandsons earning multi-colored ribbons in the neighborhood pool. I see the track stars and recall cheering the same boys as they ran in weather so cold that all of the spectators were covered in coats and heavy blankets. I think of the young people dunking basketball after basketball at our local park. I see the bicycle riders struggling up mountain roads. I know that none of the competitors reached the pinnacle in their respective sports without a work ethic that would shame all of us and I applaud each and every person who showed up again and again and again.

I’m not much of an athlete. I grew up at a time when girls were rarely encouraged to pursue sports, especially in my particular family. I never had the kind of coordination needed to work with a ball of any kind. I mostly ran and rode my bicycle and twirled my baton. I practiced tricks on roller skates and learned to swim only enough to save myself if needed. I focused my time and attention on academic pursuits, a worthy cause but one that left me sometimes feeling incomplete. I have come to believe that we humans should develop both body and mind to be whole. I suspect that this is what the ancient Greeks were thinking when they offered their citizens philosophies, innovative political systems, art, literature, mathematics and athleticism. They understood that we are incredible creatures most especially when we strive to use all of our capabilities.

Genius of mind or body is found even in the farthest corners of the world. There is potential for greatness everywhere. Each of us needs to spend more time becoming our personal best and less criticizing those who look or feel or act differently. We are all part of the same team, the human race. When we face our own challenges and embrace everyone around us we all become better. We all find the gold.

Bad Moms

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

bad-moms-trailer-tease-03-160503_354f27e1f5010db26fc76e6faefdda9c.today-inline-largeI have many women friends who are highly accomplished professionals. They are lawyers, doctors, engineers, educators. They have risen through the ranks in their respective careers. They have made important decisions as part of their duties, sometimes involving life and death situations. They are unafraid of hard work and challenging problems. They stride through life with confidence. It is only when they have accepted the role of mother that they falter just a bit. To a woman they each admit that parenting is the hardest job that they have ever held.

The demands of being a mom begin with the first signs of pregnancy. A woman’s body begins to change to accommodate the life growing within. For me the first sign that something was happening was the most extreme heartburn that I have ever experienced. Not long after those first symptoms I was afflicted with morning sickness, a general feeling that I was going to puke my guts out. The sight of certain foods made me even more ill. My high level of energy seemed to become diminished with each passing week. I never strayed far from bathrooms because my bladder seemed to be continually full. Different body parts became sore and I slowly but surely grew to feel like a beached whale. My fingers and ankles swelled to three times their normal size and I developed a limp with my left leg because the baby was lying on a nerve. In spite of all of the aches in my body I was always delighted whenever I felt the flutters and kicks that told me that I was carrying a life inside my body.

I had my children when I was in my twenties. I was thin and wiry back then, a healthy woman who had no problems either carrying my babies or birthing them. So many women are not nearly as fortunate. They have to spend weeks immobilized by bed rest. They require the surgery of a Caesarian section rather than a more natural delivery. By the time that their children are born they themselves are in need of recovery time but instead they are thrown into the whirlwind of routines required to care for an infant. They must awaken for feedings even in the middle of the night. There is little rest. Even with help the tasks of mothering are often daunting in the first weeks and months of a newborn’s life. So many things can and sometimes do go wrong. The mother experiences a roller coaster of emotions, often caused by hormonal imbalances that render her unable to maintain control. It is the best of times and the worst of times.

Those early days when mother and child bond are forever etched in a mom’s memory. No matter how many years pass she always recalls the unmitigated happiness of holding her tiny baby. Those sleep deprived nights become beautiful moments. The chores that were at first exhausting evolve into a routine, her way of life. She begins to react to the demands of her children with love. It is what a mother does. She learns how to snatch a bit of rest here and there in between the caring and the teaching and the loving. She juggles hundreds of tasks in a single day but still worries that she may not be doing enough. Her children become the driving force of her life and even as they become more able to fend for themselves she thinks of them constantly and always will.

The years go by at breakneck speed. The first day of school comes all too soon. The child begins to slowly but surely push away to gain independence. All moms want this for their children but still feel twinges of regret that their roles and relationships are ever changing. They lie awake at night wondering if their actions are building strong and healthy children who will be able to navigate the world. They chastise themselves for the wrongs that they believe they have inflicted. They are their own worst critics.

It is little wonder that the summer comedy hit Bad Moms is resonating so well with mothers across the country. Entire theaters are filled with women laughing hysterically and relating to so many of the over the top jokes. I went to see the film last week with a group of twenty ladies of all different ages and each of us found moments in the movie that spoke to us. The truth is that we are often judged the most in our roles as moms. Society in all eras has inflicted its mores and customs on mothers, often resulting in making them feel inadequate to the task. The truth is that human beings cannot be perfect all of the time. None of us have the fortitude to be without flaws and somehow when we exhibit them in our parenting they are magnified.

Bad Moms points to our tendencies to compare ourselves to others and to standards that may actually make us feel uncomfortable. It also draws back the curtain on the realities that each of us struggles to overcome. Our children are not automatons. They are individuals just as are we. As mothers we have to understand when it is right to curb our ambitions both for them and for ourselves. We have to know when it is okay to pamper ourselves and when we must be available for our children. Raising children is a continual balancing act that requires wisdom and sacrifice but not a total surrender of ourselves.

When I was a young mother life was admittedly a bit simpler. I thought nothing of allowing my children to enjoy free range time around the neighborhood. Nobody was going to judge me for telling them to play outside on a hot summer day. I did not feel any pressure to entertain them or to enroll them in a never ending schedule of activities. I gave them swim lessons and took them to the park. They learned how to roller skate and ride bicycles. When they expressed an interest in dance I found a teacher for them. I purchased art materials and let them experiment. They ran around in their bare feet and often had dirt on their faces. If anyone was thinking ill of me for being lax they never mentioned it. My biggest concern was always that I might be spending too much time on my teaching job. I worried that my girls might think that I cared more for my students. All in all I felt comfortable that I was doing my best but it involved far less than the requirements that I see being placed on today’s young mothers. Bad Moms addressed the pressures that are now overwhelming so many women who are striving to give their children the best possible environment. Sometimes today’s mothers are losing themselves in the process.

Parenting is admittedly difficult. Those of us who agree to accept such a responsibility would do well to support one another rather than constantly critique. We all want our children to do well and that means that we should suspend our judgements and competitive spirits so that we might work together. We don’t all have to rise before dawn to run around the neighborhood track so that we might remain thin. Sometimes that extra hour of sleep does way more for our well being. Our meals don’t have to be ready for the Food Network. Sometimes microwaving some chicken nuggets gives us more time to sit and talk with our kids. If the house is strewn with toys and laundry we can make a game of quickly placing everything into neater piles. Our children do not need to have the latest phone or the most stylish shoes but they do need us. Moms have enough to worry about without including the insignificant in the agenda.

I am more proud of being a mother than anything else that I have ever done. I know without anyone telling me that I was as imperfect in that role as anyone who has come before or after me. I woke up each morning and did my very best. I had to learn how to forgive myself for all of the mistakes. My girls are now in their forties and I am still their mom. These days I have to remind myself that my new job is to support them as they raise their own children rather than to tell them how to do things. They are incredible mothers so I guess I did something right although I’m not sure that I should take full credit. The reality is that all of us are the product of our mothers, our fathers, our extended family members, our teachers, our churches, our entire histories. We are all in the game of life together. Bad Moms reminds us to focus on the things that truly make our families strong.