The Teacher

Jack and I were alone together in the playroom one afternoon last week. He was running laps around the train table with his various Thomas trains, and rearranging the tracks to his liking. I was unpacking a box of toys and not paying much attention to him.

Then, he asked me, "Mom, where's Percy?"

"Hmm...I'm not sure. Which one is he?", I asked him.

(Interrupting) "Oh, here he is. See, Mom...he's green with red stripes."

And, then it hit me.

My son knows something that I don't know.

He knows the names of every one of his trains - and he has over 50 of them. He knows which ones go with the cabooses, or whatever the hey they're called, and I couldn't name them all if my life depended on it.

I sat down on the floor next to him, watching his eyes as I asked him, "Who's this?" and "What's this one's name?" He lit up as he named them and pointed out special and interesting things about each one of them.

My son. The teacher.

Me. The student.

I loved learning from him. He was passionate and thorough and thoughtful. His face was animated and responsive. I knew it was important to him that I understand. And, I was captivated.

I have 33 years of life knowledge to share with my boy.

I want to be the kind of teacher he is.