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.

Effective Classroom Management Gone Bad 8/19/14

Back to school for teachers.  The meetings, the hugs, the surprise announcements of pregnancy and engagements.  The excitement/boredom combination that only that particular week can bring.  I've been to two days now, and something is disturbing me.  It's August 2014, and the town of Ferguson, MO is in such a state of unrest that it's affecting our nation.  The National Guard has helped out, and fifty-seven people were arrested last night.  They were protesting, throwing Molotov cocktails at and even shooting at police.  (The article stated that only four of those arrested lived in Ferguson, proving that people will go a distance to protest and cause harm.)  I am not taking a stand on the Michael Brown case. I feel so sorry for his family, just as I do for anyone that loses a family member.  I am commenting on the vaguely-named "protesters".  If you know me at all, you know that I am seriously anti-violence.  I have trouble with the idea of military and war at all, but this world makes forms of such an evil necessity.  I do know that a family lost somebody they loved and cared about, and rather than use the peaceful tools available, many of these "protesters" are causing more harm, injury and even death to try to.........what?

Yesterday, we played a game with our teacher handbook.  Various questions were asked, teachers had to locate the page number and answer, then run up front and ring a bell and see if their teams answer was correct.  Shorthand:  these are the issues that teachers don't do well on, let's pound them in your head with a game.  I stopped participating when something on page 14 caught my eye.  Under "Principles of Effective Classroom Management" it stated:  "Discipline students in private.  Do not redirect or reprimand in front of the other students."

I am at a loss for words.  I don't know if I can keep teaching.  I can't ask some boys and girls in my classroom "Please stop talking."" "Please don't touch her" "Put your rhythm sticks away, you broke the rules."?  I know there are many other ways, but sometimes a polite direct request works the little miracle we need at the time.  I teach between forty and fifty-five students at a time.  Alone.  Do I have to step out in the hallway with a student that is not allowing me to teach due to misbehavior?  Who watches the others?

Today, we had a presentation on classroom management.  The presenter was all about being positive.  Before I go any further, I have to say that I pride myself on being positive with children, and encouraging them constantly by praising good behavior.  The presenter this morning claimed that she only ever does that, and the worst children that are having a "bad day" are brought around by her praise.  Going into my twenty-fifth year, I can agree with that technique, but only for about 75% of the time.  There are some individuals, small as they may be, that (due to whatever life has dealt them) don't care, don't listen to the praise, abuse the privilege of being treated nicely and even cause a violent happening to a fellow student or myself.

I think there are grown-ups that don't care to obey the law today because the authorities in their young lives let them see by example that they would be rewarded if they chose to do wrong.  Should the authorities in Ferguson need to take one protester at a time to a side street and have a talk with them?  That's what education in America has led them to expect.  I'm glad I only have a few years left, and I hope I didn't scar any of the little darlings that I've corrected in class over the last twenty-five years.

Double Classes and Holding My Breath 4/17/14

Surprise!  The art teacher is sick today and there's no substitute!  "Of course, I'll take those classes.  No problem."  I mean, what choice is there, really?  Somebody has to take the extra group; I have one and PE already has two.  Simple math, the music teacher takes the extra group.

So today, instead of having my usual thirty darlings, I get to control anywhere from fifty to seventy.  Alone.  I've kind of gotten used to alone. Actually, though, that may be changing.

The last time I had to endure double classes, I wrote about taking a breath.  Taking a breath emotionally and letting the realization of  "who I am now" find the cracks in the wall that let happiness shine through like bright summer sun.  I am a little further along that path now.  A journey continues on a daily basis, does it not?  My itinerary has been busy lately.

I have seen the sunshine of happiness and I am now traveling a road of healing.  the care, attention and understanding given to me by Robbie have helped me wake up and realize that joy can be re-discovered in the aftermath of sorrow.  Robbie is traveling the same road, so when we need to take a break and sit on a bench for a while....we do.

Today, although I'm having to monitor double classes, I'm holding my breath - in anticipation.  Robbie, who has kindly traveled the miles to visit me twice already, is visiting again this weekend.  Although we talk very often, it's so much nicer in person. I'm anticipating laughter, serious talk, fun, a little sadness, but mostly a wonderful time.

Even though I had twice the students I usually do today...on the day before a holiday...I can smile on the inside and know that there's someone to listen to me talk about it when I get home. I may be alone in the classroom, but no longer in my spirit. What a difference.  Robbie and I acknowledge our respective tragic pasts and are seeking a happier future.  The sad chapters in our story have come to a close, and some happy chapters are being written.  So talk on, big groups of kids.  I'll hold my breath until 4:00 and enjoy the weekend.

When The Music Starts - My Choir at the Toyota Center! 3/9/14

It was the busiest of weeks.  I define 'busy' as any length of time where your focus is required to be on something besides that which you want to be doing.  So I guess any work day is busy.  But even work days have small breaks, lunch, planning...things like that during which you can take a breath, check your e-mail, look at your phone...without other requirements panting at you like a dog.

The undertaking of an elementary field trip is no small task.  Add in the fact that the little darlings are all in different grades and homerooms, they must wear their choir shirt, they have to perform, and certain paperwork must be turned in on every one of the forty-nine students (49!), and I received a busy week.  I was bombarded by questions, papers, looking for papers, figuring how to collect them and feed them after school, figuring out how to get them on the bus and get to the Toyota Center in time....I worked, planned, e-mailed, texted, made phone calls, and typed up papers. Don't get me wrong, I didn't procrastinate; I've been working on this since August.  It's just that the last week is crunch time, and I wanted to go over every detail as many times as possible. When the music starts, we all need to be ready!  I don't like to be wrong about anything!

I must say a huge 'thank you' to our office staff and all the teachers that helped with the little details.  And I thank the principal for just letting me handle it all and staying out of my way.  I prefer to work unassisted and without a hawk looking over my shoulder, questioning everything I do.  And I got it my way!  Pure luck, I know.  The big day, Friday, rolled around and I was up early.  Packing what I would need and getting dressed and ready.  There was a five-minute space when I, the choir director, could not find my own choir t-shirt.  But it was only temporary, the shirt was found and on with the show.  Headed to school, my choir and I got a shout-out on the radio from local morning show Dean and Rog.  That made me very happy, and I hoped that a lot of our teachers and parents had heard it.  I parked at school, carried in all my 'stuff' and was late for the staff meeting.  Not only late, but had already been mentioned, so everyone knew I wasn't there on time.  I claim Rockets game excuse!

Let it be known that during this day, I taught my full schedule of classes, except when the assistant principal spelled me for thirty minutes due to having won an hour lunch with my team.  I was missing a permission slip, I had to call the parent.  I had no less than four students without their t-shirts, and only five to spare.  I typed an agenda for the afternoon to give my principal, who was riding the bus with us.  I figured out how many students I needed to place on each row for our performance from the stands. I dealt with the fact that my underwire on one side was a goner, and hoped that the effect would not be seen on the big screen.  The day went by.  I left during planning and picked up their pizzas.  I was ready for the crowd immediately after school.

They were wound up, to say the least.  I kept them corralled, with the help of precious friends that volunteered to stay for the pizza portion.  They ate healthy portions, and then the orange things appeared. Those obnoxious blow-up noise makers were springing up all around the room!  I outlawed them immediately.  Do not blow them up, put them away, I do not want to see them.  Little did I know that one parent had supplied her child with enough orange things for every one of the 49 kids to have two!   That's a new rule to chalk up for next year.

We loaded the bus.  The principal, me, the bus driver's family and 49 kids.  We told them:  same rules as always.  The bus driver turned on the radio.  The kids sang and took selfies.  I had to trust that all those ten and eleven year olds were taking decent pics!  It got loud.  We had to tell a few to sit back down.  The principal looked unhappy most of the time.  Half-way there, she informed me that we had a "seat-hopper", so she went and sat toward the back.  I frowned at my children (they know if my smile is gone, it's a biggie) and we rode the rest of the way there.

When you take 49 students on a 90 minute bus ride, restrooms at the destination are of the utmost importance.  When that was taken care of, our escorts took our group up to our spot via the freight elevator! There were some scared little darlings, but I, the fearless leader, told them if they want to be a famous singer or actor, they have to learn about arriving the 'secret way'!  Once in our rows, we waited to sing.  Parents were arriving and bringing their child some food, the arena was filling up, kids were clapping noisy orange things and asking for the restroom again... one mom (who has been precious and helpful and kind for six years now) handed me a bottle of water.  "For you, Mrs. McCarty".  True kindness exists.

We got our three minute warning and the kids put away the orange things and focused.  Once the music started, they were in auto-mode.  They got a little distracted by the big screen, but the sound was amazing - on key, energized and sweet.  I realized that I don't focus on bus behavior or how they interact with each other.  I touch on those things - but what I really teach is how they should act and what they should do when the music starts.  They did it.  I was proud.

The rest of the evening was a nightmare of restroom trips, loud clappy orange things in my ear and a few that couldn't behave. It was also a big win for the Rockets, so that made it fun.  What I am going to choose to remember most is the sound that came from my choir, because what you do when the music starts is really important.

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.

How Gratefulness Fits 11/3/13

I saw a couple of posts on November 1st.  "I am thankful for..."  Some even included the "30 days of thankfulness" challenge.  It's a great exercise, coming up with something different and not necessarily the same cookie-cutter sayings.  Some of the ones I read are quite amusing.  I considered trying it, but I just can't.  It's not that I don't have so much for which to be grateful.  It's just that I; 1) am afraid to commit to anything not required right now and 2) am afraid that rooting around in my brain for something new every day will dredge up anger and hopelessness instead of thankfulness.

I am probably one of the most grateful people in the world this year.  Yes, I am a widow.  But, as my widow friend Ann says (about herself, and I am in agreement about me), I am in better shape than 90% of any other widows.  He left us in good shape financially and that enables me to face the rest of life, even if it is without him.  I don't know what shape I would be in if that were not the case.  I don't even like to think about it.  He left us the greatest gift he could by being smart with financial planning, and for that I am repeating "thank you, thank you so much" in my head at all times.

I am so grateful for my family. My precious girls have stepped up and shown themselves to be determined to do well in school and help out when necessary by working also.  My Mom and Dad are there whenever I need them, as are my sisters. Scott's family is still my own - they check on me and let me know I still belong with them.  I am grateful for my "family of friends" (sorry, Peter Frampton, I had to borrow that!), the ones that make sure I get out and do things and don't become a hermit, and the ones that take the time at work to stop, talk a minute, be there at special events - I am surrounded by wonderful, smart, kind people.

I am grateful for my job.  Even though I get ready every morning in an empty house, and make sure I turn off everything before I leave, because nobody else is there, within an hour or so I'm in a noisy, boisterous, mostly happy crowd of children.  They are funny, they are smart, they are like sponges when I find the right presentation of my subject (or any other item up for discussion!)  You know how you tear your cuticle, or get a paper cut on your fingertip?  And then when you put a Band-Aid on there kind of tight, it doesn't hurt as much?  That's how I feel during the school day.  I feel as if there's a tight Band-Aid around the pain and it simmers down and lets me teach and enjoy my little darlings.

At home, the Band-Aid feeling kind of disappears, but there are four lovely creatures that do their best to annoy soothe me.  How did we ever end up with four pets?  Cuddles, Marylebone, Roxy and Gordon are the light of my home life.  If you do have pets, then you know that their personalities are individual and adorable.  Some days, I know I have to get out of bed, only because Cuddles has to have her thyroid medication. When I get home each day, the house is not empty.  I am greeted by loads of tail-wagging and meowing.  Some nights, when I can't sleep, both dogs snuggle close to me, whether I talk or cry.  And Roxy, well, Roxy just doesn't let anyone do anything she doesn't like, and insists upon them doing what she does like.  (In a very loud voice, of course.) Thank goodness, one of the things she does like is sitting on my lap and being my friend.

So, you see, I am extremely thankful.  I love the fact that America has a Thanksgiving Day, but even more, I love people that keep thankfulness in their hearts all year 'round. Thank you notes, Facebook messages and statuses, e-mails, phone calls, cards.......I'm not perfect, by any means, but I try. My friends do, too.  You, my friends, are welcome to show the social media world the 30 things you are thankful for each day this month - I enjoy reading them!  But I know you better than that.  I know that you are grateful for life and its blessings year-round.  As am I.

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. 

There's Me, then there's (me) - a Squirrel-Fur Story 8/31/13

The first week of school is over.  The routine has set in.  The big kids have already learned some stuff (ha ha, gotcha!), and more and more of the babies are opening their mouths and singing with me every day.  Here we go.  That's Me.  I will forever, though, equate this first week with the things I've had to do concerning probate, real estate, life insurance, and being the single parent.  That is (me).  There are barriers there.  I'm not going to share that information with everybody out there.  Yes, it may seem that I tell you a detail or two, but none of it chips the surface of the reality I'm living.

There is squirrel fur on the bedroom floor right now.  Just a couple clumps, but that's enough to make me think that some squirrel left it behind on someone's paw as it ran and HID in my bedroom somewhere. I found a dead squirrel out back on Thursday morning - very possible that one animal or another brought the dead one's brother in the house!  This is the kind of thing I do share.  Amusing anecdotes.  Enjoyable escapades. Hilarious happenings.  (Alliteration kick courtesy of my favorite fifth grader, Riley!)  I shall probably search for above-mentioned squirrel before I finish writing this today.  That's my 'story of the day'.  Unfortunately, there's a LOT more that goes untold. 

Almost every day this week, there was an untold story, deed, issue.  I can share a few of them here, but some I just only tell certain people. Me is an open house, but (me) is a locked closet.  I know, everyone is that way, it just seems magnified to me now that I'm dealing with the aftermath of death.

College girl's laptop broke right before she headed off to school.  Less than a year old, I knew it was still under warranty.  I had to deal with having tech support help me on the phone, then reporting to them that it still didn't work, getting an RMA number, shipping it off, etc.  Not that difficult, but computers were his department.  I think every married couple, especially parents, have certain "departments".  Laundry, paying bills, house décor, children and animal health - those were some of my departments.  Computers, TVs, pool chemicals, cars, yard, insurance - those were some of his.  Having to step in and run the other department is sometimes difficult because it is new territory, but always difficult because I'm only doing this because he's gone.  I'm proud to say the freshly-repaired-under-warranty laptop arrived yesterday.  Success in one new territory.

If only every little task that dealt with the aftermath felt like success.  Who is really worried whether or not I remember to take the right paperwork to school with me so that I can stop by the lawyer's office after a long day and let them make copies of the appropriate papers for probate court?  Who really cares that I answer the personal e-mails that still arrive in his inbox, giving them the sad news and telling them I will tie up all the loose ends and keep in touch?  With each thing I do, however, I share my accomplishment with one of the people that get to know (me).  My family, my best friends, sometimes a special friend at work.....but not everyone.  Even the examples in this writing are not the ones that I consider the "big issues", - the ones that send me to my car or my chair at home sobbing.

So it's not for everyone to know every piece of business.  I'd rather talk to you about how good the kids are this week (general consensus - they're tired!), or what was for dinner last night, or how cold it is in my classroom, and why can't I remember to bring my sweater to school?.....all of that is Me.  What you might not realize is that (me) is sitting there eating lunch, and because of the cold room and the soap from just washing my hands, I was able to slip off the wedding band for the first time in many years.  My finger was a size 6 in 1984.  It's not anymore.  Nevertheless, I worked it off. I didn't tell anyone, just put it on my pinky.  It's not that I'm ready to be without it - I still have the diamonds on.  I'm just scared if I put it back on, it would have to be cut off one of these days.  Or maybe I am trying to give myself reminders that all departments belong to me now, and I can do it!  I'm not ready to look unmarried, I'm just trying to do a good job at being the only one that takes care of everything. Talk about a sad story, a forlorn fable, a depressing drama.  That's why I only let most people see Me, not (me). I can do this with help - special friends that give me pens, dinner, chocolate cake, anonymous cards - these gestures let me know there are others that understand (me), and even have a (me) themselves.

Me can finish out this part of the story for you:  I called my friend to come over and help hunt the squirrel.  My friend took one look at the fur and said "That looks like your hair, are you sure none of the pets got hold of a hairbrush or something?"  I said no, and kept looking. After about five minutes of looking and talking, the answer dawned on me.  "There is no squirrel!"  I exclaimed.  I knew the answer.  I took a phone pic of silly Roxy-cat sitting on top of the wardrobe.  The vacuum was in the corner in the pic.  I moved the vacuum and took another pic, then put it back.  (Lord knows we can't have a vacuum in our picture, it just wouldn't look proper, would it?)  The last time I vacuumed, it was when my girls and I got our hair cut at the house.  Sure enough, that multi-colored clump of hair that I thought was straight from a squirrel's tail was actually a mix of our reddish-brown, brown and caramel highlights hair scraps, freeing themselves from the evil beater brush of the Shark.  I'm not hiding anything about the squirrel-fur story. That made me laugh today.  I will choose to focus on those types of things. Here's hoping the laughter will at least help (me) keep my balance.  Love, Me.

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.