There are millions of children in this country with parents who perform one of the most important jobs for the future of this generation: they teach. Very few kids’ parents are both teachers, let alone work in the same school district in the town in which they reside. This unique situation describes my family and me. Being raised by two teachers in the same home has influenced my entire life, and continues to mold me into the ambitious young woman I am today.

Despite the fact that my town’s public school district has always been rated as the top in the state, my parents sent me to one of the private Catholic grade schools. My mom teaches at the public elementary school where I could have attended, but I’m sure she knew it would be too distracting to her, myself, and my peers if I was placed in her home room at that age. She went to the same Catholic school in her youth and has always been faithful to tradition. Nevertheless, her parenting and teaching methods reflected one another in our home.

Kindergarten through middle school evenings were filled with sighs, tears, and eraser shavings all over the dining room table. I would finish my homework quickly so I could finally earn some free time to practice piano, watch “That’s So Raven,” or visit the Wishing Well in Webkinz World. These were all short-lived enjoyments, however, because my mom would call me right back to that dining room table to “fix all the things I did wrong,” which was usually her forcing me to write more in my reading journal, or even rewriting the whole passage because the manuscript of my cursive was not neat enough for her impeccable standards. Looking back, I appreciate that she expected me to make the corrections, when she could have swiftly changed the errors herself.

In addition to basically being a student in my own home, I had a few rare glimpses of what it was like to be a student at my mom’s school. Trusting my siblings and me with good behavior, she would occasionally take us to her class on mismatched snow days and Catholic Holy Days of Obligation. I would also help grade multiple choice quizzes when my mom was cramming at the end of the term, as well as help her set up and take down her classroom for the year. I cannot say how many of those teacher stores she dragged me to in order to find the perfect bulletin board linings and cheesy motivational posters to decorate the walls.

Summers were filled with weeks of one school camp after another (okay, maybe just a few). I would spend five mornings in a row going to a math class with one of my mom’s fellow teachers, followed by a week of science “experiments” in the room next door with another staff friend. When I did not have a nerd camp (as I eventually began calling them) to stimulate my brain on the weekdays, my mom would throw a Summer Bridge workbook in front of my face and make me complete at least four pages per day. Sometimes, I could not wait to go back to real school in the fall!

Flash forward to high school, and my experiences were also different than most of the people my age. My mom was still a great influence in my life, but my dad began taking the lead in many of the aspects of school. I had left the private school system and was enrolled in our public high school, which is where my dad teaches both Advanced Placement and regular social studies classes. All types of students have always loved him for his goofy personality, and they respect his down-to-earth integrity and perception of the world.

For my first year or so, I made many friends and a name for myself in my own grade, but most upperclassmen recognized me only from home videos my dad showed them in class (which is every teacher’s child’s worst nightmare; I actually lived through it). To this day, I am still not sure if many of them even knew my real name. Everyone seemed to address me as “Mr. Hils’s daughter.”

A few years later, as a junior, I was actually enrolled in his AP U.S. history class, and I hated it. I knew there would be constant pressure throughout the year since it was a college-level course, and my own father would be the one to read my essays and grade my quizzes. I had such a bad mentality walking into that classroom on the first day of school, and I went to the very back and put my head down. After receiving a C on the first test, he made me move to the open seat up front -- right next to him. Every night would remind me of elementary school when I would argue with my mom over homework; this time my dad would remind me at dinner to “read the (incredibly boring) book.” It took a lot of time and discipline to focus the same way I would in any other class.

Senioritis kicked in early the next year, and I decided to drop an advanced course and take my dad’s regular government class. It was such a relief not to be forced to carry another gigantic college textbook home every night filled with too much information I knew I would never remember a year later. I learned so much more by just sitting and leisurely listening to my dad teach us about American politics. At this point, I had embraced his intellectual and witty character, and I began to see him as the awesome person all of his other students do. He was a completely different person at school than at home; neither ego was greater than the other; rather, it was just interesting to note how dissimilar were his roles as a father and teacher. Few kids ever get to see their parents in action at their jobs, but I was able to see my own dad do what he loves every day!

There were many other small, notable moments that stood out while sharing that building together for four years; for instance, we often shared lunch and carpooled together. I would make him late for work by insisting that I had to straighten my hair almost every morning, and in return, he would make me stay in his classroom an hour after the last bell while he went through emails and planned lessons for the next day. His room was also a gigantic locker for me; most of my core classes were near his, so I would just pop in and out and switch out notebooks each hour, instead of fooling with a lock combination and cramming them onto a little shelf in the middle of the busy hallways. Furthermore, it was somewhat empowering to hear about snow days twenty minutes before the rest of my friends!

Throughout my entire life, people would assume I wanted to be a teacher like my parents when I grew up. For years I would reply with a flat out, “No.” Yet here I am, recently declared as an education major. So, why the sudden change in heart?

I now appreciate their strict polices as parents on academics. If it were not for their expectation of straight As for twelve entire years, and their insistence of perfect attendance unless I was puking, I would not be driven to succeed so well on my own in college today.

Besides those lessons for always being a diligent human being, I also appreciate and cherish all the memories I have simply hanging out with them during childhood. I spent the total of June through August every year riding bikes to get Icees at the local convenient store, playing wiffle ball in the backyard, and going to the pool with my parents each day (except when I was at one of those Nerd Camps, of course). They did not have to pay any teenage girls to lamely sit and tan as we made up fun by ourselves. I know I will end up falling in love with my teaching job, but it will be a nice perk to spend time with my own family in the summer sun without any work hanging over my head.

The fact that current students love them, previous students say they still love them, and future students cannot wait to sit in my parents’ classrooms one day is awe-inspiring. Together, they are one of the most highly respected couples in our community. My mom and dad have impacted hundreds (maybe, thousands) of students for the better of several decades, and I strive to lead and teach in a way that models them both.

Being raised by two teachers has clearly been influential as I have grown up. Many times I wanted to gauge my eyes out, especially when I knew others did not get pushed as much as me. Although my ratio of work and play was not always balanced the same way as my peers, I would not change a minute of my childhood or adolescence. I know I will one day be a wonderful mother, because I have learned what it takes to raise a child to the best they possibly can become. Thanks to my parents, I now realize that my life thus far has ironically been one, massive teachable moment.