What my Son Thinks About His Mom Being a Student

By Heather Watts

It feels like I have been in graduate school for quite some time. I can remember crossing the stage at my commencement from Columbia University Teachers College back in 2014. I was graduating with my first master’s degree, in Literacy Instruction. I was four months pregnant, and with a growing baby in my belly, was filled with excitement, wondering what opportunities were ahead for us. 

Fast forward four years and that growing baby was now a growing toddler, and we found ourselves at yet another higher education institution as I was working toward my second master’s degree. We made some big changes to be at Harvard. We sold our house in New York State to move to Massachusetts for a one-year program, and my mom even moved with us to help care for my son, Nico. He was not of school age and daycare costs were outrageous; we were so grateful to have my mom living with us during this time. 

A collage of images of Heather Watts graduating from her first two degrees, and a final image of her and Nico playing in the leaves outside.

There’s something you should know about me – I love getting involved, in clubs, causes, work, everything. I’ve always had a tough time saying no to an opportunity as I want to be involved in impact work and love learning from team environments. During my time at Harvard, I was a full-time student, Equity & Inclusion Fellow, co-chair of an Indigenous student organization (shoutout to FIERCE!), worked as a Research Assistant, Social Media Manager, and Curriculum Designer. Like I said, I LOVE being involved and hadn’t learned a lot about the concept of overextending oneself. Something I constantly struggled with was this question: 

Am I a bad parent when I choose school instead family time? 

A Letter To My Son

By Heather Watts

Heather and her son Nico enjoying the celebration at Mississaugas of the Credit First Nation annual powwow!
Heather and her son Nico enjoying the celebration at Mississaugas of the Credit First Nation annual powwow!

You were born late on a cold November night. At that moment, I also experienced a rebirth of sorts. When you were first placed in my arms, I felt more weight than the 10 pounds 2 ounces announced by the nurse. I felt the weight of your safety; physical, emotional, spiritual, and the great honour bestowed upon me to guide you through life. The weight of responsibility was overwhelming. You watch my every move, listen to my every word, and observe every emotion. What traditions I decide to practice, what language I speak, my hobbies, how I deal with sorrow, how I express joy, are all going to shine through as ‘the way’ to be.