Many years of teaching have given me countless memories, but none so entertaining as the day a second-grade student named Erica shared the unforgettable story of her baby brother’s arrival. It’s a tale I delight in retelling because it’s both innocent and hilarious.
Show-and-tell has always been a favorite time for my students, and I love allowing them the freedom to share whatever brings them joy. I’ve seen everything from pet turtles to cherished pictures of fishing trips. My classroom is a place where curiosities come alive. Little did I know that Erica’s presentation would be like no other.
Erica, a spirited child, came to the front of the class with a mischievous glint in her eye. She was wearing a thick, lumpy sweater that seemed unusually misshapen. It turned out she had hidden a pillow underneath, mimicking a baby bump. The moment she stood there, holding up a picture of her newborn brother, Luke, we were all ears.
‘This is Luke, my baby brother,’ she announced proudly. ‘I’m going to tell you about his birthday.’
With her hand on the pillow, she began her tale. She told us how her brother was made as a symbol of love, with her dad placing a ‘seed’ in her mom’s tummy. It was a curious explanation, painting a picture of Luke’s growth inside a mysterious ‘umbrella cord.’
Her storytelling was captivating, and the class was entranced. She continued, vividly describing her mother’s labor. According to Erica, two Saturdays ago, her mother started making funny noises.
‘Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh!’ she mimicked, much to our amusement.
Her dad, she explained, called “the middle wife,” a unique term for the midwife, who, unlike a pizza delivery person, didn’t have a sign on her car. This clever comparison had us chuckling. Erica went on to imitate her mother lying in bed as she set the scene of her brother’s birth.
‘And then, pop!’ she exclaimed, mimicking her mom’s water breaking with a burst, ‘My mom had this bag of water that just exploded!’ she demonstrated with legs apart, her hands illustrating the gush.
The imagery was enough to set the classroom roaring with laughter. Without missing a beat, Erica reenacted the midwife’s commands to ‘push’ and ‘breathe,’ sharing how they counted but never even reached ten before Luke made his grand entrance.
‘He was covered in all this yucky stuff,’ she noted with a wrinkle of her nose, suggesting it came from what she described as ‘Mom’s play-center,’ sparking imagery of toys in abundance.
The room burst with applause. That day, Erica didn’t just share a story; she gave a performance. And from that day forward, I never entered a show-and-tell unarmed—I always brought my camera, ready to capture the next ‘Middle Wife’ moment.
