Unlike Papa whose character could be likened to a silent harp, Mama harps her subterranean emotions out. The day when she defended my older brother from a wrongdoing and said how much she loves both of us and shed a tear afterwards, I cried with her.

Mama is full of love and the abundance of that gift is what I see in her. When I gaze at my mom, I see strength only the strongest person could be blessed. When I gaze at my mom, I see tears that will unselfishly shed wherever, whenever, on my behalf. I am convinced that what a mother cannot do is to abandon her child in grief.

Mothers are awe-inspiring individuals. If God has to dispel all His blessings from heaven, I would ask Him to hand over the lion’s share to the mothers. That is one of the best ways to pay them for their sacrifices.

Take this example. Janice, a colleague, often turned sentimental in the small talks we have had about her son, Johann.

The sacrifices of Janice to making her first child enjoys a normal childhood, is both lightening and heartbreaking. That day when she accepted the truth and knew full well that her son hasn’t been growing the way she hopes for him to be, I felt the pain inside her. At the age of two, Johann would have passed the crawling stage and started walking, or somehow attempted to walk. He would have been responding to noise and the call of his name. He would have been the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed little boy in the house. But, sad to know, he is the complete opposite.

Janice agonizes in the silence of her heart. Her desires for Johann to grow big and run, is far from truth. She wants him to meet her with a smile when she gets home from work. She wishes him to say ‘Mama, I love you’. She yearns for him to feel how dearly she loves him. She wants to experience the delight of hearing his ‘first word’, longs for him to hug her when she says “Come Johann” and wants him to hear what she talks about. Because she talks of love, of patience, of so much love, so much patience!

Patience is what Janice needs and Johann needs it most. It might be a battle to fight to the finish, but every battle can be won. This is no basket case, as far as I know, many have survived and ended with big happy stories to tell. Janice’s comforts now lie on the dream that in the fullness of time her son will become someone great – someone she would be so proud of.

Yet, Johann doesn’t have to be someone for Janice to love. As long as Janice is there and Johann needs her, she would continue to explore avenues, talk about love and communicate with patience What Janice, a sacrificing mother cannot do, is to desert Johann in grief. God bless the mothers!

I never liked the teaching profession. When mom advised me to get a degree in education and be a teacher, I retorted in complete disagreement, “Send me to an engineering school, and I’d make you proud!”

In my country, pursuing a degree in education is the cheapest and the easiest in town. Borderline students or even those below the intellectually deficient category, most often than not, would go for the degree. Only a few would take up engineering or medical courses.

From the start, my ideas were never parallel to a teacher’s. Thoughts of piles of unchecked papers and overnight stays in the office to finish a class grade and lesson planning scare the heavens out of me. Moreover, I never liked the idea of being with students.

But I could never blame mom for pushing me to become a teacher. She used to be in the profession and was head over heels in love with it for more than 30 years. Lend your ears to her passionate rants in a career symposium, and you’d go out of the hall lured by her, believing that teaching is the only immediate course in town. Her plans for me included pursuing a master’s degree, taking up a doctorate in education and ultimately landing a good supervisory task in the central school.

Mom was heavy-hearted when her drive of getting me into her own career path failed. I ended up enrolling in the engineering course. You should have seen Dad’s expression – he was with me, he was laughing up his sleeve.

Years later, I earned an engineering degree with flying colors, as I promised Mom. I worked for a short time in a construction company. Feeling so unsatisfied, I transferred from one company to another, like a bee discontented from a single sip.

Then, here comes the changing of horses in midstream. The dean of the private school where I graduated from asked me to become a part-time member of the engineering faculty. He probably saw my credentials and the potentials befitting as a teacher.

It raised my eyebrow. Why me, of all people? I deemed I should never try something I have never, ever loved. However, before I knew it, I was eating my own words. Devil may care, I got hired to teach mathematics and tried what Mama kept bugging me about for years.

What’s interesting in the teaching career? Is it the students questioning the strange and far-off? Is it the gifted minority showing signs that they are more knowledgeable than you are? Or is it the students tending to underestimate your competence and skills? What about young, beautiful girls giving you an enticing look, asking for a private tutorial?

Fascinating and challenging, indeed. In a matter of months, I was loving the career-playing field I got myself into. All’s well that ends well. What kept me firm every single day was the thought of Mom’s perseverance and love for her work. Now that I am in the U.S. and pursuing another career, I am beginning to miss the teaching days.

In my country, the teaching profession is taken too lightly. Most people say that teachers do not earn much. It is an understatement. I do not care at all if others would say that only average people venture into teaching – I can always prove them wrong. Teaching is for everyone who has the conviction of sharing one’s life and values, knowledge and information. Teaching is for someone who believes in sweeter rewards after a sacrifice of patience. It is for anyone whose idea of sharing is not necessarily losing something.