An adult student of mine arrived from her country nearly two years ago. She is thirty-two years old. She has two small boys. By definition she is a busy, young mom. Traditionally, she stays home with her children. One son is in first grade and his younger brother is starting pre-school soon.
This mom comes complete with stories about her past life, the life that she had previous to her current suburban California environment. She has shared enough of her story to conclude that her life was, typically speaking, dysfunctional. Estrangement from her own mother speaks to that.
On more than one occasion, conversation has focused on her duties at home and within her marriage. She is stressed. There is tension. And she weeps. Her sobs came hard and heavy the other day. She said she is looking for balance. She covered her face as the tears fell. Sympathetic response on my part kicked in. I gave her a hug and attempted to comfort her using language like,”You’ll be fine”. Seeking balance has been an ongoing preoccupation of mine. I make every effort to avoid issuing platitudes with those in pain.
My student sobbed a few more tears and regained her composure. She thanked me. We continued the lesson. I have been seeing this student for six months, but I think the lesson has just begun.