How do moms get on that arbitrator's gravy train?

Spectrum, by Laurie Thomas

Excuse me. Who do I see about getting a raise? I've been busy drawing up the contract and believe me, it includes a hefty increase. Who was that key player in the contract negotiations between the principals and the Mat-Su Borough School District? I want that person on my side.

I've tried this before and I wasn't at all successful. After all, what percentage of a jump is it from nothing to a half million dollars? At least. Per year. That's what I'm asking. And I believe I am justified in asking that much; I've been under compensated for 27 years. And if all of those in the same profession as mine banded together and unionized I'm sure the union would agree with us and go to bat for us, too.

I am a mother. Let's talk about the value of my job. I am a teacher, a chauffeur, a financial planner, a disciplinarian, a counselor … "a butcher, a baker and a candlestick maker." Wait, I lied. I can't make candles but the point is, if I needed to, I could. I taught my children how to eat by themselves, tie their shoes and use a toilet. I taught them manners, how to tell time with a "real" clock, and what to do if a stranger approached them while walking home from school. They learned how to work, how to share and how to drive at home. I was the underpaid and unappreciated educator.

I helped them with their science projects, cheered for them from the bleachers even when they were bench-sitters, and aided in the application process for scholarships. I've been a listening ear when they were struggling to understand relationships, when great disappointments caused them anguish, and when they were trying something new. I tried hard to teach other things by setting a good example: I took them when I went to vote, when I was undercharged at the store, and when I had an opportunity to help others. Yep, I'm probably worth even more than I'm asking.

But, will the arbitrator want to talk to my husband? I'm not sure he is in favor of such high pay, especially if he is the source of the income. He says there are some things we need to put on the table first. Like the way the kids drive: he says they "drive just like their mother!" Well, what does he expect? And I was taught back in the olden days by Mr. Nord, our driver's ed teacher at Palmer High School, so I must drive like him and how often do you see Mr. Nord parked in front of an Alaska State Trooper car with lights flashing? A point for me. "How about the way they eat?" my husband asks, "Or inhale might be a better word." I counter with how easy it is to shop for the ones left at home: milk, cold cereal and frozen chimichangas. And I can get those in big amounts at Costco for less. Another point for me. Forget the arbitrator; no impasse here. I'm doing great by myself.

And then I spend the afternoon with the checkbook and budget and I am reminded of why I can't be paid what I'm worth. It's just not there. After the braces and broken bones, the gas bills and food bills, the school fees and sports fees, there just isn't enough left for my salary.

My son was working on his United States history homework today after school and asked me, "Who was Robert Fulton?"

"Hmmmm," I pondered, "I think he built the first steamship, or something." He turned to me with a look of incredulity on his face and asked, "How in the heck did you know that?"

"Have to. I'm a mother." And the feeling inside was enough pay for the day.

Laurie Thomas is a Palmer resident.