“Why yes, I‘ll work for free, who wouldn’t?”

 As I enter year thirty-two of teaching, I am excited to see my students. I am excited to see my colleagues. I have new ideas for what to teach and how to engage today’s screen-oriented children. I am also mad as a hornet, once again. Evidently I am expected to get in my classroom and have it ready to go - for free. 

A strongly worded note from the boss insists that we spend days for which we are not paid to get our classroom ready. You see, we are required  to pack anything away over the few weeks of summer break, because the floors must be polished. So we have to put back all the furniture, rearrange and re-assemble everything s well as update the decor and bulletin boards. Most teachers do this alone or in teams of friends. Music is fairly isolated, so it’s mostly alone for me, unless I ask for help. 

I know that everyone has seen how many extra hours teachers work. It’s a fact that walks alongside a profession that is the scapegoat for society’s problems.  My contract pays $$ a year for 186 days of work. (And by $$, I mean kind of enough. But that’s another story.) Of course, since I am flat out told to have that room ready by close of business on the day before the 186 days begin, I’ll work for free. Wouldn’t anybody? Grrrr. 

Presents Are Fun, But What Do You Give?

This music teacher had a lovely Christmas season.  The choir sang beautifully before the local Christmas parade, then sang the National Anthem for the Harlem Globetrotters.  The fourth graders performed their sweet little Christmas show with only a few glitches.  Little ones sang and danced and played jingle bells in class.  Who could ask for more?  I teach a bunch  (400+!) of sweet darlings that smile, laugh, hug, and love on a daily basis.

I got two sweet gifts from students this year. I am not a homeroom teacher, so there's never been loads of gifts.  As a one-time mom of elementary students, I understand it financially!! Anyway, I got a golden (my description to kids) cup with a lid and hot chocolate/marshmallows enclosed and a palm tree LED candle.  I love them, and I will keep them - if I may be truthful,in years past that hasn't always been the case. I think they are beautiful. I share this with you, my friends, so that you can see all sides of reality in the teaching world.  Please don't take this wrong - this is not a complaint!  I have, given the opportunity, always chosen the schools with a population that is more in need.  I choose to teach darlings that may not have much. I will state with no qualms whatsoever that sharing with these young people is more rewarding than any fancy basket full of gifts.  I get a deep satisfaction from what I can give them! If you are a teacher in a Title I or low-income school, you understand.  There are five things that I try to give children on a daily basis.  I believe giving these things is paramount to helping these young lives grow successfully.

First, I give them a positive interaction to start their day. It's a privilege to greet them at breakfast and call them by name.  Asking if they are all right and encouraging them to have a great day is a great start to my day as well.  Not all of these sweeties come from a routine of ease in the morning, so I do my best to instill confidence in them that school is calm, consistent and ready for them to do their best.

Second, I give small challenges.  I give challenges they can meet.  If they are a particularly rowdy individual, I encourage them to get right to work in the classroom without any fuss.  I encourage them to say "yes m'am" three times and just follow the instruction. All types of students rise to the challenges.  I encourage older ones to "kick their test in the rear end"! (I might even say "butt" and then act like I shouldn't have....it makes them laugh!) Sometimes they smile, laugh, or just hang their heads, but they all say that they'll try.  After that, I make sure I instill confidence and tell them "I KNOW you can!" - with my most brilliant you-can-do-it smile.

Third, I give assistance. Someone took your headphones on the bus?  Let's go get help. You accidentally came to school with you shirt inside-out?  You have permission to go fix it.  You lost the homework sheet?  Let's try to find another one.  Goodness knows my own children probably needed help in the morning in elementary school, in spite of my best efforts as a parent.  The students know that they can trust me to help.

Fourth, I give hugs.  Some little ones need "their hug" every day.  Others just occasionally need a "hey, you're great" hug.  We load them with responsibility and talk to them about how grown up they are all the time; but they are children.  And sometimes they need a hug.

Fifth, I give them love. I started a few years ago telling my students that I love them.  Saying it out loud, to their face.  It felt weird at first, I've always been somewhat reserved, but when it comes to children, those words are magic.  I tell them I love them with the first morning hug and I tell them when I am re-directing or correcting them.  At the end of the 2017 school year, a little six-year-old in Jackson, MS was murdered during a car theft.  It was driven home to me that these precious children can never hear those words enough - and I can do my part to say it.

Education has changed so much in the past century - I've personally witnessed the past thirty-five years from the teacher point of view.  As we collect data and reduce children to scores and graphs, it's more important than ever to remember that love helps them grow equally as much as any work they may be doing. I am so grateful to work at a school at which every adult knows this; they greet, challenge, help, hug and love the children the same way I do. It's worth it.

Love or hate?

Gosh, I wish he'd left it alone.  You know, the kneeling thing.  It re-split any semblance of blend and sent the elements running to their corners like a science experiment.  It has been implied by some that I should not even speak on the subject because of my pigmentation.  I also realize that if I plead for common sense to prevail, others will interpret that as me shutting down their cause with "hate".

I simply try to never hate any other person.  My foundation on interacting with people is based on "love one another".  There may be other humans that I dislike, but the reason for the dislike is something they have said or done to me personally.  It has absolutely nothing to do with their pigmentation.  I recognize that there is a wide division in opportunities in today's society.  I personally come in contact with little ones each day that are hungry, not clean, and suffer many other challenges - through no fault of their own.  What can be done to re-direct that path they're on?  I give them chances - teaching them music skills, giving them "parts" in programs, encouraging them about schoolwork, behavior, interpersonal relationships.  I also tell them that I love them.  Every chance I get.  I don't know how much difference those things make, but I know that I am using my position in life to try and make a difference.

I started to write about the "kneel-ers", who have chosen a quiet way to protest the inequalities that end in violence.  Their quiet way reverberated like a sonic boom.  It took on the look of deriding our country and our freedoms, due to the method they used.  Their meaning has been lost to some, which makes them (figuratively) scream louder and louder.  I started to write about "why don't they volunteer in our community or schools and try to make a difference?".  First though, I googled the number one kneel-er.  You know his name.  He has some free time on his hands right now.  I found that he has pledged to donate one million dollars to organizations that help the downtrodden, the underprivileged; I also found out that he has already made good on $800,000 of that promise.  I hadn't heard about any of that in the media.  I only heard this progression: guy kneels protesting a problem - other side says he hates our country - news media highlights all who kneel and all who dismiss them as unpatriotic - leader gets involved - volume of arguments and yes, hate crescendos at an alarming level.  I think that since the main one knelt, he has put his money where his knees are and is trying to improve things.  But everyone else?  I don't know.  I don't have time to google everyone.

There are opportunities out there.  There is a division in our society that might - nobody knows for sure - but just might be changed or re-directed by volunteer work. It doesn't have to cost you a million dollars. Volunteer at a school as a mentor. Get involved with Big Brothers/Big Sisters of America.  Work with Habitat for Humanity.  Walk away from figurative yelling on social media and do something literal.  Do something that helps, stop trying to place blame, don't ascribe hate to anybody based on how they look, get out there and underscore your opinion with action.  Wouldn't it be great if we could divert the arguing and make a difference?

Double Classes and Taking a Breath

Double classes.  Sometimes it's terrible.  Sometimes it's perfectly fine.  Sometimes even - one hour of terrible followed by one hour of wonderful.  Double classes for a "large group" teacher does not mean two homerooms.  It means three to four homerooms of darling children.

It takes a certain amount of disciplinary skill to handle large group.  There's the authoritative voice, the appeal to all the years that they have known you (and your expectations), the promise of reward, and the occasional threat (and action) of having to "sit out".  It is possible to manage a large (from 60-90) group of students successfully if you have enough tricks in your bag.

Teaching double classes is difficult and sometimes annoying, but I only expound on that to relay the miraculous fact that I, on a day like today, can still be in a "good mood".

Someone like me, on their journey of grief, may smile, laugh or joke on the outside.  But for a long period of time, those looks and sounds are surface only.  I heard an actual account, just yesterday, of what others say about "how she's doing" (she being me).  They say "She's doing great!"  and best of all; "Her spirits are good."  The person that knows my spirits is someone I only speak to about once a week.

I am not calling those people liars.  They are telling the truth as they interpret it.  They are seeing my act on the stage that is my world.  The costumes, the makeup (Thank God!) the portrayal of expected emotions, and the utterances of the lines that everyone wants to hear.  I have fooled them all, haha!  Until now.  Today, my smile felt real.  Today, the feeling down deep inside matched the way my eyes crinkled with laughter.  On a double class day, no less!

It's a journey.  On a journey, you make progress.  Some are quicker, some are slower.  There is no minimum or maximum speed.  Some progress is internal.  Some is very public.  And some...well, some has to do with coming to terms with your new self because all of the sudden it's not as new, it's who you are.  It was an abrupt realization.  In my mind I compared it to someone in the movies or on TV that is knocked out and not breathing.....and then WHAM! - they take that breath and they're still alive.  My emotions did that recently.  That isn't a complete victory over inner sadness - it's just a break from it.  Like anything that starts, though, it can grow.

Today, I was doing great.  The life-saving breath experience was still a memory that made me feel happy inside. My spirits were good today.  It's about time, they've been bad inside for almost a year - in spite of what some others think.  You just couldn't see it.  Today, the double class did not incur my wrath.  (Wrath for me usually being a lecture, haha.)  Instead they incurred my humor and sly jokes that tricked them into behaving for me.  I know that actually feeling the happiness I've faked for so long won't be permanent, but I pray it won't be a stranger, either.

Getting Poked, Prodded, and Patted 2/26/14

I ran over a nail.  My new car beeped at me "Low Tire Pressure!!".  I saw the nail - it was toward the outside of the tire, just stuck in there.  I went to get it fixed and ended up having to buy a tire for my new car.  My car had 825 miles on it that day.  I laughed it off, texting my friend: "Life keeps poking me." As in a nail...in a tire....get it?

I went to the doctor.  The first round of pills had not cleared the bronchitis and I felt worse.  He sat me on the table and checked ears, nose, throat, told me I was very congested (I didn't feel like I was...) and then told me he was going to press on my face, let him know if it was painful.  He even moved my bangs out of the way.  That is a big deal, you know, those bangs are carefully placed and lightly, oh so lightly sprayed each morning so as to look naturally carefree and beautiful.  I am a product of the Farrah years, you know.  The doctor moved my bangs and pressed and prodded my whole face.  It did not hurt.  Worrying about getting my bangs fixed hurt a lot more. He prescribed more pills to make me well, and I repaired my hair once I got in the car.

I pet my dogs and cats regularly, I love them and can't resist giving them a good pat or scratch.  They seem to like it, the cute little furbabies.  I also get petted regularly.  No, that is not leading where you think!  Every work day of my life, I teach little ones in the afternoon.  Five and six year olds.  They also have to walk right past me every day to switch from music to PE, or the other way round.  Here's what it looks like when a child that age wants to tell me something:  They stand, their little head waist-high to my adult self, elbow bent, with their hand patting the first part of me it can find.  I get my stomach patted several times a day.  They don't care or look when they pat, they just want to tell some news!  "It's my mom's birthday today!" "My tooth came out!" "Joey hit me!' The stomach pat makes sure that I will bend my head and look right into their earnest little eyes.

There are also the same little darlings that think the pat should be used to get my attention if my back is turned.  Let's just say that it does!  All in all, I think all the poking, prodding and patting that happens in my life serves to move me around a bit, but then put me right back where I was before.  It's not fun to have to buy a new tire just because of a nail.  It's not fun to get my face prodded, be prescribed more medicine and get my hair messed up, either. It's not really fun to get my tummy patted as if I were a household pet - but then again, those little faces and their excitement over what they have to share makes the tire and the hair fall back into second place because they love me and want to tell me their "stuff".  The nail in my tire didn't love me, and I'm fairly sure after all these years that my hair doesn't love me (maybe love-hate...) but the 'patters'?  They love me.  So I teach them to just speak to me, or raise their hand, but all the way until they turn eleven and leave me for middle school, I remember the little arm that used to pat me; and I laugh inside.

Five Things This Teacher Will Always Wonder 1/26/14

My own words this afternoon kind of surprised me.  "Several times a day, I wonder what it would be like to work among adults only.  But then I think if I didn't work with children, I would die a slow death."  Really?  Do I think that?  Definitely yes to the first half.  Wondering about those other jobs out there - you know, not teachers - I've been doing that since 1986. I even tried to look up how much a delivery truck driver makes one time, because they just get to drive, deliver, stop for lunch somewhere, then take the truck back to be loaded up and do it again the next day!

Is the grass greener outside the elementary playground?  I will probably never know.  I dream of moving into one of the those educational positions at a museum or something....but I don't actively pursue it.  I have to support myself and my girls, so taking a chance on finding a different-type job is too risky, in my mind.  So I am left to wonder about the outside world, like a confined princess in a tower. Well, maybe like a middle-aged woman that can't escape the workhouse...I prefer the princess, though. Here are five things I will always wonder:

1. What's it like to be able to get up and go to the restroom when you need to at work?  Elementary teachers can't just walk out of the room.  We have to get someone else to watch, oversee, protect, make sure hawks don't scoop up...the children.  Although I am having a laugh here, it's actually quite necessary.  We can have a fellow teacher spell us for a potty break - but our best bet is to learn the schedule and never over-Starbuck ourselves, even on tired mornings!

2.  Who are these people that are at restaurants for lunch every day?  Every great now and then, the schedule gives us a lucky break and we get to venture out - to Jason's Deli, Panera, the local Tex-Mex, a good Chinese buffet - about four times a school year, if you're counting.  When teachers walk in, usually group of women with school t-shirts or their badges flipping at their collar, we can hear the rest of the population think "Oh great, the teachers are out today..."  Who are those people?  I want to walk up to each and every one of them and ask "What is your job?  Do you get to eat out every day?  How much do you make?  How much vacation time do you get?"  But I don't.  Evidently those types of questions are frowned upon from strangers.

3. How does it feel to go through an entire work day with nobody hugging you? Or poking your stomach to tell you something?  Or petting your toes?  Unless you work in a very unusual place, I have got to assume that you "other job" people out there do not get treated as if you are some one's substitute mommy - or stuffed animal!  By the way, in the winter, the toe-petter will rub my suede boots.  This is my third year to teach her, and it has lessened - I feel it's my job to let her know that you can't just pet any one's feet!

4.  If you start to not feel well in the middle of a day, do you just go home?  I know that not everyone can....but can you turn off your phone?  Change a meeting?  Put the e-mail on out-of-office for thirty minutes?  Can you run to Walgreen's on the corner to buy some medicine, then try to make it through the day? Don't get me wrong, we can take measures if things are bad enough, but if it's just a headache, or the start of sniffles, something mild?  We just carry on.  Maybe have an extra bottle of water or cup of tea.  Then  we ask a colleague to watch our kids when we have to run to the restroom.

5.  What's it like to shop locally without children yelling your name?  It is evidently SO COOL to see the teacher outside of elementary school.  And the parents are there, witnessing how we greet their precious little ones, and sometimes wondering 'Who the heck is that?'  So no matter what a long day it's been, how tired we are, we put on a smile, say hi to the precious darling, introduce ourselves to the parents...and then we have to remember why we came to the store in the first place!  If we are lucky, they are leaving, and we don't encounter them on every aisle we walk, to get an update on what groceries their mom just chose.

Actually, number 5 is the reason I went back to teaching happily after my five years off.  My five years off happened to take place in England (I know, cool, right?) from when my girls were two and three, until they were seven and eight.  It was a complete blessing to be home with them during that time.  About six months in, though, I found myself sitting at the kitchen table just sobbing my eyes out.  I analyzed it carefully.  Of course I missed my family.  Of course I missed my friends. Of course I missed the familiar area, stores, etc.  But what I really missed was people knowing me.  Nobody stopped me to talk in the drugstore.  Nobody kept me standing in the driveway chatting for an hour, so dinner was late.  I like to be known!  Granted, we were very new in England, and at the end of my five years I had all that and more.  But learning that about myself has kept me teaching.  Oh there are nine hundred kids in the school?  Bring 'em on! I only get to see them every other week?  That's okay, I'll make sure they know me and that they learn music. Because I am their teacher, for those five days a week, nine months a year, I belong to them and they belong to me.

Me, with some of the earliest huggy darlings - around 1988, when the wondering began!

The Hardest Questions of All. Thanks, Santa. 12/12/13

Little ones ask so many questions.  Personal questions - "How old are you?"  Silly questions - "Can I have that bracelet?"  Blunt questions - "Are those real diamonds?"  But the two hardest questions of all occur this time of year:  "Mrs. Rush, is Santa real?"  followed by "Mrs. Rush, do you believe in Santa?"  Elementary teachers have to face the fact the there are as many levels of belief in their classroom as there are students.  We also have to face the fact that those students believe whatever we say.  We are the teachers.  We speak wisdom and truth!  I bill myself as a teacher that only tells the truth.  So, when I was asked these difficult questions today, as I have been so many years in a row, I gave an answer that has been many years in the making:

"Is Santa real?  Jailynn says he's not."  Oh boy, here we go.  Carefully worded truth. These were second graders.  I personally found out the truth from a kid in my class in third grade.  I was angry and disappointed.  Considering this little questioner was about the same age, I spoke very cautiously:

"Now, my little friends, you might be hearing all sorts of things about Santa from your friends here in your class at school. I think that Santa is very much alive in the spirit of giving.  Different families have different ways that they share that with their kids, so please believe whatever your parents tell you.  This season is about love and giving.  Sometimes we give gifts, sometimes we give a song, sometimes we give our time to help someone.  Santa is one of the leaders behind all that giving, but we are all involved in it.  I hope that you have the chance to give a little bit this season and see how it makes you happy.  Even if what you give is your best smile." (The room erupts into smiley faces.)

"But what about what Jailynn said?"  "Well, her family still believes in giving and being sweet.  Her parents just explain it in a different way from your parents.  But that's ok if the real purpose is being nice."

"Why doesn't Santa bring presents to grown-ups?"  "Well, it's not because all grown-ups are bad.  I'm certainly not bad!" (giggle eruption).  "I think it's because when you are very little you only know how to get stuff.  When you get older, you learn how to give yourself, so Santa doesn't have to give you things to teach you that anymore." (Can we please sing now?)

Then, the granddaddy of them all:  "Mrs. Rush, do you believe in Santa?"  Dead silence.  They think they've got me.  "I have to say yes, my friends.  I believe in Santa as he represents the spirit of giving.  I believe in Santa in the idea that if you are good, good things come to you.  I try to practice that all year long on you boys and girls by giving treasure box goodies to the well-behaved children.  I believe that once you really know Santa as a grown-up, you understand that giving is so much more than a present.  Giving can be a smile, saying someone looks nice, visiting someone, calling them, writing them a note, or singing them a song. This is the truth that Santa represents and in my heart I know it's true.  Believe what your mom and dad tell you. That will be different for everyone in here, but don't we celebrate differences at our school?" (Nodding heads) "Santa wants you to grow up to have a giving heart, so he sets the example."  (Quiet.....)  "Now let's sing - please give me some beautiful songs with beautiful voices today!"  Smiles - music - action.  Thanks, Santa.

Have-tos and Shoulds 11/2/13

What a week!  I knew I was a little behind on sleep/chores/TV due to my manic birthday weekend.  I didn't expect the compilation of all the tiredness/busy-ness/catching up to kick my butt all the way to Friday. But so it did. There is so much that I should be doing!  I sit now, typing, waiting for cold medicine to unclog at least one nostril so I can try to take a little nap.  How did I get to this point?  I don't really want to ever be dependent on anything - especially to unclog any part of me!! Let's see if I can re-trace my steps and find what little misstep led me here.

Last Friday, 10/25:  Got the flu shot.  Generally a good idea.  A little sore arm later in the day, but mentally anticipating wonderful health all winter while everyone else shivers, coughs, and sneezes.  Perhaps it is to blame for this malady I am suffering a week later?  It wouldn't be the first time that my superior attitude has made me pay a hefty price. Who knows?

Last weekend:  Can't be to blame, tiring but wonderful.  I did spend each weekend day in very public places, perhaps being exposed to new germs, even though I am an extremely careful hand-washer.  For the most part, though, a wonderful weekend.

Monday:  Ah, school.  Nothing like a day at school to turn on the auto-pilot.  Get up, get dressed, put on makeup, drink coffee.....I've taught meter a thousand times, and beat vs. rhythm even more.  I was so determined to not let the busy weekend affect me (like an old person...) that I went straight for my walk after work, then went to the grocery store.  I came home, had dinner and caught up on two sitcoms before watching 'Dancing With the Stars'.  Ok, kind of an old person anyway, but a decent day.  I always play Candy Crush while watching 'Dancing'.  Near the end of the show, my phone just turned off.  Never to come back on.  Instead of heading to bed to beat the 11:00 hour, I was on the phone with Verizon, who had me try some phone gymnastics, none of which did anything.  At that point, they said they would send another phone overnight, but it wouldn't ship until Tuesday, so I wouldn't get it until Wednesday.  I convinced myself I could survive and went to sleep.

Tuesday:  It feels weird to spend a day without a cell phone.  I notified those closest, and survived it, but it feels weird.  I felt a little sad all day, not being able to peek at social media and see what all my friends were up to!  I also found out that I had done something in the wrong order at work, which would reflect on someone else.  Of all the "things" that happen in adult life, I get most depressed if something I do gets someone else in trouble.  Evidently, in the district, before you order t-shirts for a group, you are supposed to request a purchase order and guess how many will be ordered.  If you wait until the actual number of orders, money and invoice have come in, you've done it wrong.  Go figure.  (It did make me feel a little better that an administrator had made the same mistake..) I felt down, sad, tired, and went home with every intention of taking poor Cuddles (also known as thyroid-cat) to the new vet.  I sat down.  I got sadder and more tired.  I called my mom and cried.  I felt the weight of all the 'shoulds' in my life, and the fact that only I'm left to do them.  I didn't take Cuddles on Tuesday.  I put in for a half-day sick day on Wednesday to take care of that and get some rest, or do some "shoulds". 

Wednesday:  Early morning choir!  Yes, an extra rehearsal for my babies, to help memory for Saturday's performance. I just torture myself, don't I?  Gladly taught the morning through, knowing I could leave at noon.  Nobody had picked up the substitute job, though.  That is not my fault or my responsibility.  I followed the correct procedure for entering an absence.  Somehow, though, we are made to feel guilty that somebody will have to cover if we're out.  Guess what?   I stopped feeling guilty about that last May.  I am allotted a certain number of sick  and personal days, and it's no body's business when I take them and what I do with them.  The district (or better yet, the bosses) can get over it.  One friend this week told me that one of the bosses actually asked her if she really needed to go to the doctor, and asked what she was going for!  Pretty sure that's illegal......I actually hope they ask me that sometime!  That friend has accumulated over fifty days, by the way.  Anyway, as I taught through the morning, I felt sniffles, a sore throat and a headache.  Whatever sickness karma there is was telling me if I was going home at noon, by golly, I was going to be sick!  I managed to take Cuddles to the vet, first of many visits to solve many problems, then went home and rested. Got the new phone.  It didn't work.  Called Verizon, they sent another.  Holy cow!  Felt worse.  Couldn't breathe, didn't walk, tried to go to bed early, another choir rehearsal awaited in the morning!

Thursday:  Halloween!!  Super Duper Rain!!  Sure enough, very rainy, flooded streets, the 25 minute drive took 45 minutes, sniffy nose, worried about choir, t-shirts, many other things.  But children?  They don't care about any of that if it's Halloween!  They only know that candy is in their future!  I have this to say to all of those who nay-say Halloween based on any origin involving evil........for the past fifty years, it has been about nothing but merchandising.  Costume and candy sales with the easiest target consumer in the world - the kid.  Kids don't care who you worship as long as they get some Skittles.  Just have fun!  (In saying that, attending some of the church -sponsored 'trunk or treats' have been our most fun years!)  So school was busy, because the kids have to be distracted from the fact that it's Halloween!!  The t-shirts arrived, all work was completed, move on to the evening.  I was a zombie.  No, I didn't dress up.  I just couldn't breathe or taste, so I sat back and let everybody else celebrate, eat, trick-or-treat. I set up the second new phone.  I answered the door.  I hope I didn't pass out too many germs with the candy!

Friday was an exhaustion day.  In preparation for Saturday's concert, t-shirts were passed out, music and sound equipment packed up, last minute e-mails answered and sent, and all by sore, tired, can't-breathe me.  I went home, and prepared for a nap.  Unfortunately, I have to be able to breathe through my nose a bit in order to sleep.  I will let you know what worked and how this ends.  I got so tired typing all of this that I thought "No wonder I got sick - just think how tiring it is actually doing all that!"  And that, my friends, is dedicated to every teacher everywhere.  Just do the "have-tos" and maybe you'll have a little left for the "shoulds".  If you don't, there's always the weekend.

From MTAI to PDAS: M&Ms, Zombies and Mice

The year, I believe, was 1987.  All teachers in Mississippi now had to be evaluated according to state standards.  "MTAI" was the acronym of the year, Mississippi Teacher Appraisal Instrument.  All teachers now had to be officially assessed, according to guidelines set out by the state. These guidelines included several different areas, or "domains" in which a score was given.  We were carefully trained (made to sit through hours of meetings....), so there would be no way we could score badly.  We chose a class period, turned in a lesson plan - in the hand-written lesson plan book with the carbon copy pages - had a meeting to discuss the plan, and then the day came.  The principal had to stay thirty minutes.  They watched and checked everything. I remember leaving the lesson plan on my desk with a pack of M&Ms, as if chocolate could make anything I did wrong disappear!  I was, and still am, quite good at putting on a show, so it went very well, high scores all around.  But in between the observation and the actual knowledge of the scores, my brain told me everything I did was wrong.  "Uh-oh, you accidentally started the wrong song on the record the first time."  "You shouldn't have given that Mean Look, maybe that brought the score down."  "WHY OH WHY did that kid have to do a total snot-sneeze in the middle of the lesson?"  I am my own worst critic, and almost every teacher I know is the same way. 

Evaluations have evolved, and still exist in every state. They are a federal requirement. Remember "No Child Left Behind"?  It required every state to evaluate their teachers yearly.  Everybody likes to think that a "bad" teacher would get a poor evaluation, and poof! - disappear.  It doesn't happen that way, though. The evaluations sound harsh, but if you don' score well, you're given many opportunities to fix it. 

Flash forward 26 years to this past Friday.  I was not 'officially' evaluated.  First of all, after so many years in Texas, you move to an advanced level that just requires three "drop-ins" a year.  Each drop-in is about ten minutes.  Secondly, drop-ins haven't started yet this year.  However, the district has added something called "mega-monitoring".  We've been told what they look for when they mega us, but we've not seen any feedback, or been told how the statistics will be used.  All I know is that they enter the classroom when a lesson is in full bloom, stand there and look around while playing on their phones.  Ok, that's exaggeration - because we are aware that they are checking a checklist of the required items on their phones.  (I wonder if the district pays for the administration's Iphones???)  About three to five minutes, and whoever mega'd you is gone. This past Friday, I had the illustrious experience of being mega-monitored twice in thirty minutes.  The first time, it was the main boss.  In she comes, while we're singing "Zombie Style" (a lovely parody of "Gangnam Style).  I was scared to death.  Schools are not very open about celebrating Halloween these days.  I personally choose the attitude that I don't do anything scary, only fun.  "Zombie Style" is fun!  Quickly, when the song ended, I called the class' attention to the vocabulary word 'parody', already written on the board.  Quick thinking.  In a flash, she was gone.  The class sang a few more songs that they got to choose.  I call it "Fun Song Friday", and it's one of my ways to foster a singing student body.  They can choose ANY song!  So when the assistant main boss walked in, the kids were singing "Mousie In the Snow".  It's definitely a Christmas song.  And it's early October.  Every child singing, smiling, doing motions.....did that count?  I went with my mental defenses and told myself not to worry. 

I didn't worry - until the students were gone and it was my lunch.  Then I started thinking.  (Oh no, not again.....) Why did I tell that child that I didn't have to give him a reason for changing some one's seat?  Why were we singing a Christmas song?   Why did I have magazines in a Guinness Stout box sitting on the table?  Why do I teach?  Why don't I answer phones and create spreadsheets somewhere? 

After lunch, there was a nice note in my teacher mailbox from the assistant main boss, telling me how much she had enjoyed her visit and seeing all the smiles on the students' faces.  If she had told me in person, I probably would have said "That's because I gave them the Guinness, haha" very nervously.
It's a good thing that the feedback from the official evaluations is on paper.  I should have three drop-ins this year.  For the past two years, my evaluator(s) did not finish my three by the deadline.  Once again, I took it personally.  I felt that nobody wanted to come see me teach, because they would have to be writing down so many things that go wrong!  Once again, I did well.  I don't know what I worry about, except that I truly care about being a good music teacher.  I made my peace about eight years ago with the fact that I am "just a music teacher".  I decided to be the best one I could be.    I certainly hope, though, that this year's person is able evaluate in a timely manner. Evidently I'm quite awesome, zombies, mice and all.


"Zombie Style" and "Mousie In the Snow" published by Music K-8 Magazine
Plank Road Publishing, Inc.

*I learned that the district does not supply the Iphones for the mega's.  They use their own phones, but the app is free.  Cheapskates.

Questions abound 9/27/13

I have a lot of questions.  Some of them deal with life and death.  Some of them deal with family and friends.  Some of them deal with work.  None of them are truly answer-able.  They are mostly just ponder-able.  Is it worth the time to ponder them?  I don't know.  That's one of the questions.

1. Why us?
 Why my precious girls?  Not so much me, but us.  All four of us were awesome. The three of us are still awesome, but way too aware that one-fourth of us is missing.  That flavors and colors everything we think and do, forever. And then I must ask:  Why my friend Maria and her two precious girls?  Is this a new sociological trend?  If so, may I be allowed to say: it sucks.  (Sorry, Mom.)  So, if there ever could be a reason (remember, simply a ponder question...), what would it be?

2. Why can't I get credit for all the years I've taught, even though they were elsewhere?
Don't laugh, this bothers me just about every day. The school district I work for honors everybody for the number of years they're taught in the district. So this year, when everybody is getting their award pins, I'll be sitting there, in my twenty-fifth year of teaching, watching everyone else get awards because they never moved around.  I've only taught in the district  for seven years now.  When I do get my "ten-year" award, it will actually be my twenty-eighth year teaching.  Thank goodness all those years in all those other places count on my pay scale.  I think I'll miss that day this year.

3. Why do some people get all the bad luck? or "Whydobadthingshappentogoodpeople?"
I'm really not referring to myself here, although I feel as if I have joined that crowd lately.  Why do some people not only end up with a bad situation, but no support?  Why do cars break down on top of an air-conditioning repair?  Why can lies be believed?  Why does sadness exist? 

4. Why do those inner bags of cereal sometimes rip instead of opening neatly?
I have a LOT of experience opening those bags.  I know that I do not like them to rip. I am not a fan of wasting single grain (or krispie!) of cereal.  A rip in the bag means that some of the cereal will pour down into the box.  Just this week, I was very carefully opening the new box of Grape-Nuts (another question altogether....) when RIP!!!  It just makes me angry.  I will say that I have better luck with Kellogg's bags than Post's.  I will also ask:  why, oh why, aren't those inner bags re-sealable? You know, a zip-lock top or something?  Too much to ask?

5.  Why am I plagued with the idea that anything I do is not good enough?
We've all been there, right? I just have to look around to know that I did some things great.  But just knowing that my husband is gone makes me feel like I goofed up big time, somewhere, somehow.  I now have to make all the big decisions myself, and instead of being confident because of past experience, I feel as if I will make a really big mistake.  Nobody questions my decisions, everyone tells me I'm smart, I'm strong....and that only gives me more doubt. I'm kind of afraid I'll get "too big for my britches" and do something that's waaay weird and uncalled for.  Ok, maybe not, because when you describe me in one word (you know that game?) the one word is CAUTIOUS.  And the worst insult I could give would be to say that a decision or action was FOOLISH.  Heaven forbid. 

6. Why is nothing ever good enough at work anymore?
This is an offshoot of #5, except that I am kind of making a statement that the district seems to be trying to prove itself by saying that they are constantly changing and upgrading all teaching methods.  In the process of doing so, a lot of teachers are being told that what they are doing isn't good enough, doesn't follow this list or that guideline or new specification #5,038.  Yes, I personally have experienced a bit of this.....and when I am told that something isn't good enough, I am not happy.  However, it's been only a couple of actual times for me.  I'm pretty sure that's very lucky, actually.  It's tricky ground, being in my emotional state, and coming up against the grips of the district.

7. Why does some music give me mixed messages? 
"Carry on, my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done." Oh good, I need to hop out of bed and get this day started!!  "Lay your weary head to rest, don'tcha cry no more..."  Nevermind.  "Don't worry, be happy."  My friend wants to punch Mr. McFerrin in the face for ever recording such nonsense.  I agree.  Mr. McFerrin is immensely talented (check out his version of The Beatles' "Blackbird") but that song has probably done more psychological damage than the movie "Psycho".  And Peter Frampton has been asking me to show him the way for thirty years now, but he won't show up. I know the way, Peter!!!  It's not good enough, but it'll get you there!

To sum up my ponderings:

1. Why us (and them)?
2. Why is the district unfair and nothing can be done about it?
3.  Why is life life?
4.  Why don't cereal companies care to improve?  Have we been married too long?
5.  If I am so confident (I am...) then why am I not confident? 
6.  Why do certain entities try to fix what's not broken?
7.  Why do I still feel emotionally attached to song lyrics even though I'm not a teenager?
8.  Why are my dogs and cats so cute?  ( I know, I didn't write about that, but they are napping beside me right now....)

Ponder away, friends, ponder away. 

The T-shirt Rebellion 8/22/13

I wore a uniform to school from fourth grade until I graduated. We hated them.  Doesn't everybody that has to wear a school uniform hate them?  Blue plaid and white blouses.  Dress-style jumpers over the blouses through sixth grade, and skirts with the blouses starting in seventh.  Solid color blue, green or white socks.  Solid color blue, green or white sweaters.  No dangling earrings.  Closed-toed shoes.  Skirts had to touch the floor when kneeling.  The rules seemed never-ending.  The dream of being able to choose what I got to wear each day was a part of the enticement of college.

At college, I was sometimes overwhelmed by the question of  "What am I going to wear today?"  There was no real group to follow - different people dressed casual, sporty, dressy, stylish - I had to start making up my mind who I was, as far as fashion was concerned.  It was work.  I remember thinking that it would be so nice just to put on my white blouse and plaid skirt and go.  But instead, I set out to carve my individuality in the world using my clothes.  I wasn't Lady Gaga of that little Baptist college, but I did set my own style and let my personality show. 

Now, I'm an elementary teacher.  Let me explain why that matters.  There is a shelf or drawer in every elementary school teacher's house that is full of school t-shirts.  After a few years, if you don't weed them out, they will run over!  Just this week alone, I was given two t-shirts and told when to wear them (and sometimes, what to wear them with!)  It was also announced that we will be able to order another t-shirt to wear on Mondays to advertise our behavioral program!  So if I wear that one on Mondays, the committee shirt on the Wednesdays of meetings, and the spirit shirt every Friday, that leaves Tuesday and Thursday to wear my own clothes!  Wow!

I am not anti-t-shirt.  I think they have a place.  One school shirt is cute, especially when you have special days or competitions, and especially when you can wear the same design the little ones wear.  They think that's cool.  And t-shirts are great for exercising.  My prejudice actually stems from vanity. I do not look good in t-shirts.  I am no longer as thin as I was in college, and my bust (not thin, either) is accentuated by the high neck on a t-shirt.  I spend the whole day making sure the t-shirt is pulled down far enough in the front and back, and not pulling too tight in certain spots.  I am not as comfortable in a t-shirt as I am in my professional clothes.  And, believe it or not, in spite of my age, I still want to be an individual!

So, whether the blame lies with the seven years of plaid uniforms, or with my vanity about wanting to choose more flattering outfits, I would like to publicly state my aversion to the number of t-shirts and days that we are required to wear them.  I know the publicly stating anything won't change the t-shirt trend, but I just had to get it off my chest.  I wish I could do that with the t-shirts.  Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go choose a design for the t-shirts my children in choir will be required (by me) to wear.

Getting The Back To School Letter (Wrong Papers, Wrong Walls, Wrong Stuff) 8/5/13

It happened today.  That letter, or e-mail, in this day and time, that says "HEADS UP!  OUT OF THE POOL!!  YOU GO BACK TO SCHOOL IN A COUPLE OF WEEKS!!"  Well, it says that in so many words.  A welcome back letter, with staff changes included.  Information on when we can move in to our classrooms.  Rules upon rules.  No paper here, don't plug anything there, less is more, keep it tidy.....I feel the stress in my stomach already.

We always go back at the end of the summer.  And in a way, I'm ready.  It's just that I can't stand repetitiveness.  Every year the same speeches, meetings, discussions dragged on by people who just have to find the holes and complain, or question ridiculous details.  Repeat, repeat.  Yes, I remember a year later.  I went to new student orientation at Texas Tech last week, for the second time.  Chancellor Nance gave the same speech to the parents as he did a year ago - word for word.  Don't get me wrong, it was an awesome speech, and Tech is an awesome school.  But I felt, as I always do when made to 'sit through it again', that my time was devalued by the presentation.  It's as if someone says to you:  "I don't care that you've heard this before, your time doesn't matter, you are of no consequence, because it has to be said and your ears have to hear it again."  It feels personal.

There are some items of value in the back-to-school meetings.  Meeting new staff.  Catching up with everyone.  Any big changes.  In other words, anything we haven't already been over a million times before.  Is my time better served figuring out the first couple of week's lessons, or running through the building for some sort of team-building race?  If I teach your child, which would you prefer?

Our letter also had staff changes.  I knew that a team member of ours was leaving, and I look forward to meeting the new person. That's right, none of us have met them yet, so don't ask us about them!  We weren't involved.  Nobody asked us.

I want what I always want - to be a good teacher and have a good year.  To inspire children.  To get off the subject every now and then just to talk about history, or current events, or that popular Youtube video. I want to encourage, problem-solve, cheer, smile, demand, praise, connect: TEACH!!!  If you let me do that, I promise not to stick the wrong papers on the wrong walls with the wrong stuff.  Thank you.

Why Do I Teach Music? 8/3/13

I started out as a music teacher because I could explain those musical ideas clearly.  Helping other people understand notes and what they say - I was good at that! More than that, the result was fun!  I could watch young people learn how to create music.  I was disappointed to discover, soon into my career, that music teachers were looked upon as break time for the "real " teachers.  One "real" teacher used to stand at my door with her class and tap her watch if we weren't exactly on time.  I've heard an administrator describe my subject as "fluff".  I've had countless parents say, "Oh, my child just loves your class, the say it's so much fun!"  I have come to the conclusion that the rest of the world may indeed see my subject as fun. In many districts, the classes that teach the arts are the first on the chopping block when budget issues arise.  I've been fearful several times over my twenty-four years that my position would be cut. I have mulled over my personal defense for teaching music for most of those years.  As I enter my twenty-fifth year, I'd like to explain why I chose and keep this career.  Only a few experienced individuals and I know that I'm truly working hard at opening a new world for children each time they enter my door.

I teach music for the wide-eyed wonder of the Thors.  Thor entered kindergarten the same year that Mississippi had one pilot kindergarten homeroom at each elementary school.  He and his twenty classmates looked like younger siblings that had gotten lost on a school visit.  The first time this class came to my room, I sat them on the floor in a circle, sang a song called "Happy Train", and accompanied myself on the autoharp.  Little hands reached toward the instrument.  Only the most mature few could manage to listen to the words of the song, as they had been instructed.  Thor was in awe.  It wasn't quiet awe, it was bubbly, noisy, questioning awe.  I gave everyone a turn to touch, feel, and try to make a sound on the instrument.  Eventually, we sang one verse of the song with each child's name included - "I see Thor on the happy train....."  They all tried to sing along, turned red, clapped - Thor beamed.  Every new song we learned, through the weeks - "I've Been Working On The Railroad", "Chicken Soup" and "Skinnamarink-a-dink-a-dink" - Thor sang out, mistakes or no, with a five-year-old voice that bounced off the walls with exuberance.  I taught Thor every year through fourth grade.  He matured, learned to smirk, learned to talk in class and giggle with friends when he shouldn't.  But one thing didn't change, at least through fourth grade.  When I began the piano introduction to one of out 'fun songs', Thor sat up, knew when to come in, and, like very few fourth grade boys tend to do, he sang with all his heart.

I teach music for the seriously talented.  There are too many to name, and I would surely accidentally omit one, so no names here.  I have run across serious talent at every age level I have taught.  I had the joy of taking a high school choir to state-level competition.  They listened to every concrete and abstract idea I wanted them to express in Cherubini's "Sanctus in C minor".  I watched a high school group take the wide range of choral literature that we had learned during the school year, and come up with a final concert that took on the guise of a radio show.  They wrote a script so all the songs fit in as poetry, gospel hour, even commercials!  I was able to share how to hit those high notes a little better, how to pace yourself when dancing and singing the same show eight times in one day, how to pronounce words to blend with other singers.  I saw them get in trouble at home, at school, fail classes, ace classes, get scholarships, get accepted at prestigious universities (with the help of choir as an activity), try out for parts, get them, not get them, finish college, get married, not get married, have families, experience loss - but most of all, I've seen them live their dreams.  Some of them are still performing, even teaching themselves!  I am so proud.  It doesn't matter to me if they went on to study music.  I feel I have shown them a hobby that can last a lifetime.  If you love music, you can find a place where people are sharing it.

I teach music for everyone.  Some students walk into the room and are enthusiastic from day one.  Later, it turns out they can't even sing on pitch.  By the time that discovery is made, it doesn't matter.  Anyone can sing in the place I call my music room.  Just sing your own way.  Some students excel in the paperwork on notes, rests, and meter.  They discover that the great puzzle that is music makes perfect sense to them.  I can actually see them glowing from the brain light bulb while the rest of the class struggles along and asks question after question.  At that point, I allow the one that excels to take over answering questions and helping.  I also get to instruct them to help humbly, slowly, make sure that understanding happens, and never condescend.  What am I teaching at that point?  I call it music, but there is so much more. 

I teach music to recruit new members for the families known as band, choir and orchestra. I love to encourage students to join one of the groups in middle school, for musical and behavioral/social reasons.  In today's climate, students that feel they belong to a group tend to be more successful at all of their activities.  Recently I saw a family in a restaurant.  I had taught both children, and both are now in middle school band.  I smiled and spoke, they filled me in on their activities, and I told them I was proud, and encouraged them a little more. They assured me it would continue through high school.  The father looked at me and said "This is really great, because we were never in band!"  I smiled even bigger.  Mission accomplished.

Teaching music is a power tool that should be used with care. Music is a personal thing. I try to open windows and doors that expose children to all the many, many, types of music that can enrich their life.  I also still explain those notes and rests.  By teaching music, I am more than break time for the teacher.  I am handing out tools with which our children will carve their own personal happiness.

Posts I Reconsidered.....

Blog Posts I Reconsidered

1.        An Ode to Diet Ginger Ale

2.       Why I Like the Music on Candy Crush

3.       Reasons why Peter Frampton isn’t right for me ( :()

4.       That Time I Scrubbed Shadows on the Pool Wall

5.       Prancing Unicorns and Slegs

6.       How My Mom Went From Pac-Man to Farmville

7.       In Defense of Reality TV

8.       A List of all the Places I Keep My Reading Glasses

9.       Pandora Charms You Should Buy For Me

10.   A Compilation of My Tripadvisor Reviews

11.   A Full Description of My Cat’s Bladder Issues

12.    My Crusade against Mexican Lavender

13.   If You Can Maintain a Pool, You Should CLEP Chemistry

14.   Blogging Is Another Form Of Begging For Attention

15.   Quit Mapping Your Ride, I Feel Guilty!!

16.   Why Is Sag Harbor a Brand Name For Clothes Worn By Older Ladies?

17.   Revealed:  The Name of the Person That Teased Me So Badly I Never Wore Pointy-Toed Shoes Again

18.   The Real Story Behind Those Vacation Pics

19.   Why Phrases Like “A Pile of Men” and “He’s So Slippery!” Should Land Me a Football Announcer Gig

20.   An Elementary Teacher’s Guide to Fake Curse Words (Oh, Boogers!)

Crayons - from 2002 7/26/13

Written in 2002, and dedicated to anyone, parent or teacher, that gives of themselves to children.

Crayons

 

Can a crayon stay sharp?

Can a child keep them nice?

No.

Children eat crayons.

Children break crayons.

Some children are crayon-peelers.

Children color so hard that the crayon-tip becomes rounded and the crayon makes that sticky noise against the paper.

When the crayons start life, they live and fit in their box. When crayons meet children, they lose their balance, flopping around the box, stumbling and hurting themselves.

The longer crayons know the children, the more frayed and smooth they become.

The happiest crayons in the world are half the size they used to be, naked, and living in a commune in a Cool Whip tub.

We could learn a lot from these happy crayons. The reason they’re happy is because they have left a part of themselves behind with every child they’ve touched.

The Turning Point, or Rebounding from "Burnout" 7/21/13

When the last day of the school year arrives, I do not cry.  Yes, I'll miss the ones that are moving on.  No doubt.  One in particular this past year - more than any one in a LOT of years.  (Godspeed, Chelsea!) But by the time the beginning of June rolls around, there are no tears left.  There is just tiredness, backed up by being fed up with excuses, whining, arguing, meanness crying, roughhousing gone too far....in other words, burned out.

"Burned out" is one of the awful insider insults in the teaching field. We see another teacher lose their patience, not turn things in, arrive late, depart early......and we whisper "burned out" among ourselves. I personally am always showing signs of "burnout" by the time summer is here. When I am finally home day after day, it takes a while to re-charge.  For the remainder of June, I don't want to be around children, hear  child's voice, talk cute to a child.....thank goodness, mine are grown and there are only college-age semi-adults around.  But sometime in July, it always happens;  I miss the kids.

I start looking at kids again.  I start smiling at the things I hear them say.  (Let's face it, children are, quite often, hilarious!)  I watch them goof off in the grocery store, or at a restaurant.  I'm ready to interact with small humans again.  It takes about six weeks, but the turning point always arrives.  After that, I'm anxious to prepare the classroom and get ready for that first day of school.  Welcoming my little darlings is so much fun. I know that if they are greeting me with a smile, a big hug, and "I missed you so much!" that I'm doing something right in their little lives. I must not be completely "burned out".

I think the turning point has come for me is the past couple of days.  I wondered if events at home would delay the turning point and extend the summer "burnout".  That remains to be seen, because imagination and the actual classroom with the actual little darlings are two different things.  I have been lonely for a few days now, and I think (hope, wish, pray!) that my job is the perfect counterbalance to loneliness.  Children are always needy, or excited, or wondering, or hurt....you get it.  I see one hundred fifty different little ones each day!  There's no way I can be lonely if I truly connect and teach them.  I may be sad underneath, but I won't be lonely!

I do worry some about the coming school year.  I worry that my underneath sadness may surface and cause me to cry, or speak sharply to a child that just needs a gentle correction.  I worry that older little ones, now that they have probably heard why I missed a week last year, will ask me about it, and crack my happy shell and the sadness will pour out.  Hopefully, the very fact that I am worried about them - and how my actions will affect them - will keep me in check.  I like to think I have a protective instinct around the little ones. 

Let's say for now that the turning point seems to be happening, right on schedule.  So many other things have been happening right on schedule since Scott died:  the garbage is collected, the bills have to be paid, haircuts are needed, fingernails keep growing, meals have to be cooked and dishes washed, dogs need grooming.  It shouldn't be amazing to me that I would start feeling ready to see my little ones at school again.  But then again, any good feeling right now amazes me.

In a few weeks, the imagination will become reality.  I really do hope that I can keep the happy face on for the kids and that my twenty-fourth year of teaching music will be as fun for them as it has been for all the little ones through the years.  I'm thankful for the family of friends that will be there with me, and may we all stay away from the "burn-out"!