Machine

There are a few things a teacher can tell a first grader about themselves that will be met with frank disbelief:
If you don't live at school, where do you live?
You really can't afford to buy us anything better than Fun Dip for our birthdays?
You eat meals, too?!
You weren't ever in first grade, Mrs. Plant!
Somehow in their minds teachers are something stationary, not quite human, placed within the school just for the students' benefit with no other life to live.  They don't see us as they see other people who have families, go out, shop, see movies, have pets, and eat dinner. We are but solitary teaching machines.

Back when I was student teaching, my mom came to meet my class.  I didn't give them any warning, wanted it to be a surprise.  When she walked through the door all heads turned in her direction.  They were excited about this mysterious stranger (maybe she had candy or something!).  I walked over, put my arm around her and said, "Class, this is my mommy!"  This announcement was met with murmurs, whispers, and blank stares.  Then Gavin, a small outspoken redhead, placed his hands on his hips as he looked from me to my mom, back to me, back to my mom, and back to me again before accusing, "You never told me you had a mother!"

Over the years I've concluded that it's better to give the kids a bit of background information early on in the school year.  I talk about my husband, my family, my dog, my house, and the things I enjoy doing now and enjoyed when I was their age.  Initially, every year brings the same mumblings of disbelief, little chuckles as if to say "There she goes again, trying to trick us into believing she's normal!"  But I've found if I keep at it, they eventually believe, seeing me less as a machine and more as part human-part machine.  I take what I can get.