when you are not enough...

I teach children with special needs - right now I have a small class of early elementary students with moderate-severe learning disabilities, autism and other diagnosis. I love my work. It is hard, but it's rewarding and never, ever boring. (Some days I wish it was a little bit more boring.)

Recently two of my students transferred to smaller classes in specialized high need schools. My classroom wasn't able to meet their needs, and so after many discussions and evaluations and paperwork and meetings, their parents choose alternate schools for their children.

One of my assistants was getting emotional about having to say goodbye a student. She felt like she had failed as an educator because she couldn't help this child be a part of our school community. I told her, "Sometimes our jobs as teachers is realizing that we are not enough."

My advice to my assistant has been ringing in my ears a bit this week. I've definitely internalized this message as a professional. Sometimes I can't reach a kid, can't get them to behave safely or positively, can't meet their academic or emotional needs. Then I rationally and patiently (oh, so patiently) get the ball rolling to have them transferred. I'm okay with not being enough for all kids, at work.

But, as a mother... have I recognized that sometimes I'm not enough for my children?

I know I'm my children's second choice. As an adoptive parent you have to walk onto this path with your eyes open, or you will stumble immediately. If my children could choose, they would probably choose not to have lost their mother and be moved halfway across the world to live with a couple of white people. I'm okay with this.

So this week I'm working on fully accepting this clear fact: I'm not always enough for my children. 

I can't show my Black son how to grow up to be a strong, confident Black man.

But I can make sure he attends sports and arts programs with black teachers and coaches.

I can't show my African daughter how to become a beautiful, confident African woman.

But I can make sure she attends a school with African-American teachers and leaders.

I can't teach my children about their Ethiopian heritage.

But we can travel to Ethiopia as often as possible, and fill our home with objects, books, music and images from their homeland. 

L with her Ethiopian sister, 2014.

Our children come to us with their own set of challenges and skill sets. Sometimes a tennis star is born or adopted into a family of book worms. Sometimes an opera singer is born or adopted into a family with tin ears.

None of us is ever really enough for our children, no matter if they look just like us and have the same hobbies and interests and skills. We are hardwired to make connections outside of our families and to strive to move out into the wider world.

Sometimes it can be hard to admit that our children need something we can't provide. Maybe we can't supply breast milk. Maybe we can't supply advice about same-sex relationships or how to play the violin. Sometimes our kids need a specialized, high need special education with teams of teachers, therapists and specialists. It is really hard to admit that out loud. I know, I've been in those meetings.

It's okay not be enough. Sometimes our job as parents is to recognize that we need to find someone (or something) else to meet our kids' needs. And then go find it.