Words.....Its all in the perspective.
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A few months ago,
another mother I knew well rushed up to me.
Emily was fuming with indignation.
"Do you know what you and I are?" she demanded.
Before I could answer, and I didn't really have one handy,
she blurted out the reason for her question.
It seemed she had just returned from renewing
her driver's license at the County Clerk's office.
Asked by the woman recorder to state her "occupation,"
Emily had hesitated, uncertain how to classify herself.
"What I mean is," explained the recorder,
"Do you have a job, or are you just a ......?"
"Of course I have a job," snapped Emily. "I'm a mother."
"We don't list "mother" as an occupation..."housewife"
covers it," said the recorder emphatically.


I forgot all about her story until one day I found myself in
the same situation, this time at our own Town Hall.
The Clerk was obviously a career woman poised, efficient,
and possessed of a high-sounding title,
like "Official Interrogator" or "Town Registrar."

"And what is your occupation?" she probed.

What made me say it I do not know.
The words simply popped out.
"I'm....a Research Associate in the field
of Child Development and Human Relations."

The clerk paused, ball-point pen frozen in mid-air, and
looked up as though she had not heard right. I repeated the
title slowly, emphasizing the most significant words. Then
I stared with wonder as my pompous pronouncement was written
in bold, black ink on the official questionnaire.

"Might I ask," said the clerk with new interest,
"just what you do in your field?"

Cooly, without any trace of fluster in my voice I heard myself reply,
"I have a continuing program of research (what mother doesn't)
in the laboratory and in the field
(normally I would have said indoors and out).
I'm working for my Masters (the whole darned family)
and already have four credits (all daughters).

Of course, the job is one of the most demanding in the
humanities (any mother care to disagree?) and I often work
14 hours a day (24 is more like it). But the job is more
challenging than most run-of-the-mill careers and the rewards
are in satisfaction rather than just money."

There was an increasing note of respect in the
clerk's voice as she completed the form, stood up,
and personally ushered me to the door.

As I drove into our driveway buoyed up by my glamorous new career,
I was greeted by my lab assistants---age 13, 7, and 3.
And upstairs, I could hear our new experimental model
(six months) in the child-development program, testing out a new vocal pattern.

I felt triumphant. I had scored a beat on bureaucracy.
And I had gone down on the official records as
someone more distinguished and indispensable to mankind than
"just another......"

Home...what a glorious career.
Especially when there's a title on the door.

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