Karen had just moved with her family to Alabama , so she had to go renew her driver’s license at the County Clerk’s office. She waited for almost tow hours and when she got to the front of the line she was asked by the woman recorder to state her occupation. Karen hesitated, uncertain how to classify herself.
“Ma’am what I mean is,” explained the woman recorder, “do you have a job, or are you just a …?”
“Of course I have a job,” snapped Karen. “I’m a Mom!”
“I’m sorry we don’t list ‘mother’ as an occupation… ‘however, 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. This Clerk was obviously a career woman, poised, efficient, and possessed of a high sounding title like, “Official Interrogator” or “Town Registrar.”
“What is your occupation?” she probed.
What made me say it, I do not know. but this time I was quick on my toes. These 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 midair, and looked up dumbfounded as though she had not heard right.
So, I repeated the title very slowly, emphasizing the most significant words. Then I stared with wonder as my 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?”
Trying to act very collected and without any trace of fluster in my voice, I heard myself reply, “I have a continuing program of research, in the laboratory and in the field. Right now I’m working for my Masters, and already have three 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 13+ hours a day. But the job is more challenging than most run-of-the-mill careers and the rewards are more of a satisfaction rather than just monetary.”
There was an increasing note of respect in the clerk’s voice as she completed the form, stood up, and personally walked me to the door.
As I drove into our driveway, buoyed up by my glamorous new career, I was greeted by my lab assistants ages 12, and 6. Upstairs I could hear our new experimental model, (a 6 month old baby), 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 on the official records as someone more distinguished to mankind than “just another mother.”
Motherhood…..What a glorious career! Especially when there’s a title on the door.
I wonder does this make grandmothers “Senior Research Associates in the field of Child Development and Human Relations” and great grandmothers Executive Senior Research Associates”? I think so!!! I also think it makes Aunts “Associate Research Assistants.”