Tag Archives: Relationships

Getting Ready

I recently started my time in Mutterschutz, the period from six weeks before my due date until eight weeks after the baby’s birth in which I am not supposed to work but receive my full salary, paid partially by health insurance. This time of “mother protection” is there to help avoid physical or mental strain, which increases risks for both mama and baby, and to allow a heavily pregnant woman to step back from certain aspects of daily life in order to prepare for what is to come. As I’ve been writing my to-do list, I’ve kept this time firmly in mind, which is what had me starting on task one, wash all baby clothes, first thing Saturday morning.

After a day of hanging in the living room to dry, everything was ready to be folded. We’ve received some baby clothes as gifts, but mostly been given gently used items from friends, meaning we are entirely lacking an overview of what we have. My partner and I looked at each other helplessly.

“How do you fold something so small?”
“I dunno.”
“Like this?”
“But now we can’t see what it is. Like this?”
“What is it?”
“This one has feet.”
“Oh okay. This one has arms but no feet.”
“Oh. Okay so start a new pile.”
“Which pile does this go in?”
“I dunno. Is that a onesie or does that go over a onesie?”
“How should I know? How do we even put this on? It has no snaps.”
“Do we need a pile for things without snaps?”
“These two things are different but neither has snaps.”
“I am not dressing her in anything without snaps.”
“Okay, put it here.”
“What’s the name of this pile?”
“Should we write signs?”
“Where does this go?”
“I’m serious about the signs.”
“This is so tiny.”
“There’s only one thing in this pile.”
“So combine it with this pile.”
“Oh wait, no, these are different. Fold the arms out so we can see that there are arms. Long arms.”
“We got this.”
“This is so tiny.”
“The next round is socks. How do we even dry socks?”

Savour everything now, they say. This time will never come again, they say.

To that end, we bought a new board game and borrowed one from friends. We started going out for dinner once a week and lie in bed weekend mornings until hunger drives us into the day. Alongside the ease with which we are living right now, there’s extensive paperwork to complete (welcome to Germany), a hospital bag to pack, bottles and pump to sanitize, a photo album to start. There’s a life to get ready for.

But there’s also the relationship between the two people who decided to be a family before there was a third member involved. Although no one has said so, maybe one idea behind Mutterschutz is to put relationships, rather than work, at the forefront in order to protect them at a time of great change. I would imagine that the stronger and more centered we are together, the easier the transition into a new phase of our lives.

Time will tell about that. In the meantime, the socks are drying on the radiator.

Marrakech, Morocco – October 2025

Expecting – Part I

You were the size of a sesame seed when your papa and I first learned about you. We were in the Alps for some climbing and mountaineering, and all I could think about was you.

You were the size of a blueberry when we first saw your heart beating. And how fast! We were in awe.

You were the size of a strawberry when it was time for new bras. Finally, an easily managed symptom of my body shaping itself to house you.

You were the size of a fig when I saw your hands wave and feet kick. You turned around and around.

Your papa and I held hands in the waiting room when you were nearly the size of a lemon. Then, the doctor showed us your symmetrical brain, four-chambered heart, 10 fingers, 10 toes. Your feet crossed at the ankles and your hands covered your face. Through tears, we watched you move.

You were almost the size of an apple when it was time for maternity pants. I marvelled at my body’s ability to make space for you.

You were the size of a cucumber when my skin met skin in places that had never touched before. I grew out of my climbing harness and started wearing one designed for my changing body, announcing to everyone who didn’t already know that you were on the way.

When you were the size of a mango, your papa felt you move for the first time. We lay in the dark as I guided his hand, both of us basking in the astonishment of you.

Halfway through the journey of becoming, you were the size of a grapefruit. Your papa and I took some time away to be together, smiling all the while at you.

Madeira, Portugal – October 2025

Looping

Looping is the practice by which a teacher follows his or her class into the next school year. As this is more common in elementary schools, I was quite a few years into teaching by the time I experienced it for myself. The IB Diploma Programme is a two-year course for grades 11 and 12, meaning I taught my grade 11 psychology and Theory of Knowledge students, as a cohort, again in grade 12.

This is quite different from the secondary school practices I encountered in the US. In that context, for example, if I teach grades 9 and 11, I might indeed teach a student for the second time in grade 11, but the entire cohort hasn’t moved up together. Teaching a student multiple times is a coincidence of scheduling, rather than a design. That being said, there are a number of pastoral care models in which a homeroom remains together with the same homeroom teacher over a period of years.

When I first heard about looping as part of an elementary school model, I could imagine the positives and negatives. Knowing the students, having ways of working together, and having spent a year establishing routines and expected behaviours makes for a smoother second year together. However, if relationships are rocky, classroom structures haven’t gone as planned, and certain individuals (adults or students!) just don’t click, that could make for a challenging round two.

Moving to Germany, I was introduced to a very different model of education. Student cohorts stay together for all of primary school (grades 1-4), and then again for all of secondary school (grades 5-9/10), after having been mixed up due to significant choice, including finishing level, in their type of secondary school. At my school, groups are mixed up when needed for social reasons, or to balance out the number of students in each cohort. Scheduling in the upper school, where we all teach multiple grade levels, is deliberately planned so that we loop with our students, either as homeroom or subject teachers. I have always followed my grade 9 students into grade 10, and will teach the ones who choose psychology in both grades 11 and 12. Considering I also teach grade 7 and used to teach grade 8, some students and I are beginning our fifth year together.

Obviously, we know each other very well, and that is precisely the point. My students understand my classroom structures and expectations, and they know how to meet them. And because I have seen the students grow up and change, experience good and bad days, and try out new friend groups, I have learned how to work with them however they present. They have had a lot of opportunities to make an impression, and I have years of evidence for what works and what doesn’t, who might need extra support and who needs a challenge, which friends work well together and which need to be separated. And as things change, we change together.

Another aspect of looping that I really enjoy is the relationship it has allowed me to build with the families. We have parent-teacher conferences twice a year, and there are some families who come at every opportunity. Knowing what to expect with these meetings allows me to approach them in a way in which the family will respond, and this helps us create better partnerships.

Naturally, there are also downsides. The students who pushed my buttons in grade 9 kept right on doing so in grade 10, and the families who have an antagonistic relationship with the school have minimal incentive to turn over a new leaf. Sometimes, it can be a real drag knowing that we are in it for two years rather than just one.

Overwhelmingly, though, I have found that this system of looping works. We celebrated our 25th anniversary at school on Friday, and the day culminated in a summer fair in which all members of the community took part. My partner attended, too, and could not stop commenting on the feeling of positivity and joy, the sense of belonging, the ways that the students presented themselves, and the ways that they interacted with me and with each other. The atmosphere was a particularly special one, given the face painting, raffle, and international food offerings, but in no way unusual. This is a school built on relationships, and we really are all in it together.