I didn’t plan for any of this. I swear.
That morning, my babysitter canceled last minute—again. My daughter was already dressed in her pink hoodie, looking up at me like she trusted I had a plan. But I didn’t. I had a midterm. I couldn’t afford to skip.
So I strapped her to my chest, packed a bottle, grabbed my notes, and walked into that classroom like I wasn’t completely panicking inside.
People stared. A couple of heads turned, some eyebrows raised. I tried to act normal. Sat down. Tried to study over her coos. I kept bouncing on my heels to calm her down, whispering lullabies under my breath while the lecture started.
Then I heard my name.
“Malik.”
I looked up. My professor, Dr. Jordan, was standing there.
But then he did something that completely threw me off. He didn’t give me the look I was expecting—the disapproving, ‘What on earth are you doing here with a baby?’ look. Instead, he smiled, a warm, genuine smile that made me feel like maybe I wasn’t as much of a mess as I thought I was.
“Come on up here,” he said.
I froze. I hadn’t expected that. Of course, I’d been to his office hours before, but that was different—this was in front of the entire class. Everyone was staring now, not just at me, but at the baby strapped to my chest. I felt my face flush with embarrassment, and I shifted uncomfortably. What was I supposed to do? The room felt like it was shrinking, and I was sure the walls were about to close in on me.
“Don’t worry,” Dr. Jordan continued, his voice clear and calm. “We’re all in this together, right? Let’s just work through this as a class.”
I hesitated but stood up anyway. My daughter, Kira, was quiet now, just looking around, as if she could sense the tension in the room. I carefully made my way to the front of the room, trying to ignore the eyes following me.
When I reached Dr. Jordan, he gave me a small nod of encouragement before speaking again.
“Alright, Malik. Let’s have you answer the first question for the midterm. Don’t worry, we’ll work through this together, and you can take all the time you need.”
I blinked. He wasn’t kicking me out? He wasn’t telling me to leave? No one had ever told me it was okay to bring a baby into a classroom, but somehow, in this moment, it felt like Dr. Jordan wasn’t just concerned with the material; he was concerned with me. With making sure I didn’t have to choose between being a mother and being a student.
I took a deep breath. This was my shot. I wasn’t going to blow it. Kira gave a tiny squeal as if she was cheering me on, and I smiled nervously at her. Then I turned to Dr. Jordan.
“I… I think the answer to the first question is the concept of—” I paused, glancing back at my notes. “—the law of supply and demand. The relationship between price and quantity demanded, and how it impacts consumer behavior.”
I glanced at the students behind me. No one was whispering, no one was laughing. In fact, I saw a few people nodding, taking notes, looking at me with… support?
Dr. Jordan nodded thoughtfully. “Exactly. Well said, Malik. And how do you think that theory applies to the current market trends?”
I felt my nerves ease slightly. I could do this. I had to.
We continued through the midterm, with Dr. Jordan occasionally asking me questions. He gave me the space to answer, but he also checked in with Kira, asking if she needed anything, offering a smile and a quiet “good job” whenever I did something right. It felt like a lifeline in the middle of what could have been one of the most embarrassing moments of my life.
When the exam finally ended, and the students filed out, I thought I’d be left to clean up my mess of a day, feeling like I’d somehow failed. Instead, Dr. Jordan came up to me again.
“Malik,” he said, his voice lower now, more personal. “I just wanted to thank you for being brave enough to bring Kira here today. I know it must have been tough, and I’m sure it wasn’t easy for you. But what you showed today wasn’t just about academics. You showed that it’s possible to handle life, no matter what gets thrown your way.”
I blinked, caught off guard. I hadn’t expected this. He wasn’t just being kind—he was acknowledging how hard it was for me. And, in some strange way, that made me feel seen.
“I don’t know how you do it,” he continued. “Balancing school, being a mom, and everything else. But you’ve got a lot of strength. Don’t ever let anyone make you feel like you’re not enough.”
His words hit me hard. They were exactly what I needed to hear. I had been carrying this constant weight, this feeling that I was always behind. Behind in my studies. Behind in my personal life. That maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t doing enough for Kira, or that I wasn’t good enough to be both a student and a mother.
But Dr. Jordan’s words made me realize that I was enough. And, maybe, just maybe, I was exactly where I needed to be. I didn’t have to do everything perfectly. I just had to show up, give it my best shot, and keep going. Life didn’t have to be about achieving perfection—it was about progress.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice shaking just a little. “You don’t know what this means to me.”
He gave me a reassuring smile. “No need to thank me. You’re doing great, Malik. Don’t forget that.”
A week later, I received an email from Dr. Jordan. It was a simple note, inviting me to office hours. He’d graded the midterm, and he wanted to talk about my performance. I wasn’t sure whether I should be nervous or excited, but I went, hoping for the best.
When I got there, Dr. Jordan looked up from his desk, his glasses perched low on his nose. He motioned for me to sit down.
“I wanted to tell you something, Malik. I’ve never had a student bring a baby to class before, but you did it today with grace. You didn’t let it slow you down, and you didn’t let it hold you back. You took responsibility, and you handled the situation with poise.”
I felt my chest swell with pride, and I thought back to that morning. The panic. The uncertainty. The feeling that I was failing in front of everyone. But here I was, a week later, hearing how well I’d done.
He continued, “Your final grade for the midterm was above average. In fact, it was one of the top scores in the class. You’ve been juggling a lot, and yet you’re still succeeding. I want to let you know that I see your hard work. You don’t have to apologize for being a parent and a student. You’re doing something incredibly challenging, and you’re doing it well.”
I was speechless for a moment. Not only had I made it through the midterm with Kira in tow, but now I had proof that I was actually excelling. It wasn’t just about surviving—it was about thriving.
Before I left, Dr. Jordan handed me a piece of paper. It was a scholarship application for single parents attending school. “This might help,” he said. “You deserve to focus on your education without worrying so much about finances.”
I left his office that day with a new sense of purpose. It was like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I wasn’t just surviving anymore—I was finding ways to thrive, even in the toughest circumstances.
The lesson I learned from all of this was simple: life doesn’t always give you the perfect circumstances to succeed, but that doesn’t mean you can’t still find a way to make it work. The key is to keep going, even when it feels like everything is falling apart. And remember that you don’t have to do it alone.
Dr. Jordan’s kindness, his recognition of my struggle, made all the difference. It reminded me that there are people out there who see you for who you are, who appreciate your effort, and who are willing to help you along the way.
If you’re feeling overwhelmed, like you can’t juggle it all, just know that it’s okay. It’s okay to not have it all figured out. Just keep showing up, keep giving your best, and trust that things will fall into place.
If this story resonated with you, please share it with someone who needs a reminder that they’re doing enough.
