“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. 

Counting the minutes

 It's been happening as long as I've been teaching; but especially more since we went back to school during a pandemic.  Teachers with planning time are asked to fill in as substitutes for any other teacher that may have to miss work.

This afternoon, I am a fifth grade teacher, yanked from the comfort of my beloved music room.  I bear no ill will against the absent teacher.  I have also taken days off that required "coverage", as it's called. I say I bear no ill will - however there have been occasions when I am thrown into one classroom or another with no plan, no work for the students.  I don't mind using my wits, but some sort of emergency preparation is greatly appreciated.  Today, they have work to do, thank goodness!

I also don't blame the administrator that assigned me to cover.  With health protocols right now, no substitutes are allowed in the school building.  The administration has no choice.  They actually divide the day amongst two or three teachers so that we can still accomplish our planning and nobody is in there too long.

I suppose if I were to direct my frustration somewhere, it would land equally on Covid 19 and students that have the mindset that they can get away with breaking known rules just because there is a different adult in the room.

Therein lies the reason I go home grouchy some days, or have that extra glass of wine on others.  I cannot fight the pandemic and its effects on my workplace.  None of that can be helped.  I DEFINITELY cannot change the decades-old practice of students misbehaving for the substitute.  Therefore, I will count the minutes, days, weeks, and years until retirement removes the pleasure of never knowing what a day may hold when I walk into my workplace.  

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.

Fifth Grade Thunderdome

Once a year, the weather starts to warm up, Easter decorations hit the stores, weekend festivals abound and the fifth graders that I teach are put through a grueling experience.  No, not testing, not a spring dance, not a sports competition: the grueling experience is called "Mass Choir".

How can singing be so difficult?  Children singing; just the words evoke sweetness and light, love, hope for the future, and everything that is right with the world. Most of the time, that is true for me.  I love my school and I love the darlings that I teach. We sing the cutest, sweetest songs and have so much fun.  Mass Choir, though, looms over me like a giant monster most of the school year.  Here's the background, as I am aware of it.  The superintendent declared that since the seven elementary schools feed into only two middle schools and one high school that the fifth graders should celebrate the end of the time in elementary and their coming together "as one" by performing an hour-long concert for their parents.  Every fifth grader in the district.  Whether they want to or not, whether they enjoy singing or not.

Have you ever experienced eleven-year-olds (or twelve or thirteen....) in the springtime?  I am reminded of the young creatures that spring around the barnyard, all mischief, joy and self-awakening.  I'm not saying they are badly behaved, I'm saying that by nature they are reaching for independence and acceptance among their peers.  The way in which they do that reflects whether they already possessed good behavior or not.  As planners of Mass Choir, the respective music teachers from each school do our best to find engaging and contemporary songs that these young adults will enjoy.  We also attempt to keep their "antsy" young selves busy by adding "moves" (less than choreography, more than finger-snapping) to all the songs.  From August to January, we choose songs and create moves.  We teach songs, send home lyrics and CDs, have competitions, do any positive behavior encouragement that we can to prepare the students for the big night.  We also take care of the logistics of the evening, but that's another complete story!

Imagine the last week of rehearsal. There are sixty students, in my case, one hundred at some schools, standing on risers together knowing that they're supposed to sing and move.  The superintendent never sees this part of the process.  It is the reason I came up with the term "grueling".  If not for a super-supportive specials team, fifth grade teachers and administration, it would not happen!  By nature, it is a Thunderdome of sorts - who can make whom laugh, who talks about someone else's mama, who can pass gas at just the right time - you get the picture. Somehow, some way, we manage to get them to sing and move enough to look like they know what they're doing. The only one that doesn't get the picture is the one that ordained it and will show up next week and talk about how wonderful that they can all sing together with energy and smiles and grow up to be the pride of the district.

Then the music teachers turn and smile and wave.  Within the next week we evaluate the year's show and start discussing next year's engaging music.  They all enter, they all come out, but the music teachers stay for another Thunderdome, year after year. 

The Forbidden Act of Class Punishment or Put Your Money Where Your Butt Is

I have always taught music, and in elementary school, that means that I don't have a "class" of my own.  I see other teacher's homerooms all day long.  It's a privilege, because I get to call every student in the school my 'kid'.  I've said many times that it's very special to me to be able to teach kindergarten through fifth grade.  By the time they leave elementary, IF I have taught them every year, I've been their music teacher for over half their life.  I know them, they know me; what a wonderful job I have.

At my very first job, the principal was demanding.  Our names were circled in red ink if we didn't sign in on time on the morning clipboard.  Our lesson plans were scrutinized, commented on, and required to be sitting on the corner of our desk at all times.  There was a meeting a couple years into my time at that school at which he stated "Please avoid class punishment.  Do not punish the entire class by silent time, taking recess, etc.  There are students in that group that were not at fault and that is not fair.  Deal with the individuals."  My brain said "Wow!"  because I had pulled the 'sit in silence' bit as a disciplinary measure before for an entire class.  I also liked what he said because I am a rule-follower.  I do not want to get in trouble or have a policy changed because a few bad apples can't toe the line.  They should get in trouble, not me.

I was reminded of this event in my teaching career when I kept seeing all the "protest" that involves our flag and our national anthem.  Throughout history, protest has been a means of change, whether valid or not.  I'm not even speaking to whether any of these current events are anything I am in agreement with or not.  That's not my point here.  I think these protesters are punishing the class.  It's unfair.  Not every American is at fault for the things you are protesting.  Find an organization that sets up dialogue with the two sides, write your congressman, volunteer for programs that work to heal the problem you're yelling at with your actions.  Then you'll be fair AND you'll be doing some good.  Put your money where your butt/knee is.

Sometimes I Can't Say It, But Disney Can 4/29/14

I can't say certain things.  I have a code that I employ.  Those close to me usually know what I mean, but I avoid the most direct words.  I don't know why,  I should be able to speak clearly about anything.  I enjoy employing the right words to get a message across.  So why am I shut down when it comes to talking about Scott's death and all the things that happen afterward?  I didn't even want to type those words in that last sentence.

Many of you have heard me speak directly, contradicting what I just said.  It does happen.  I try hard.  I act. I pretend that I can say that and move on with the story or conversation at hand.  I fool myself and it works for a while. Other times, I just can't. My voice can't speak "when Scott died", so I say "...with what happened...", usually with a wave of my hand and a sad look on my face.  People understand.  They don't push.  I'm pretty sure people would understand anything, though, so I don't know why I hide.

I hide what I'm doing.  If I say I need to "get some things done", I am probably finally cleaning his clothes out of the chest of drawers and taking them to Goodwill.  If I have a "meeting", I am probably finding out how to transfer assets or close an account (or even a business) by seeing a professional in person or talking on the phone.

I'm trying now, though.  Since I'm starting to be open about the fact that I'm seeing someone (dating, have a boyfriend, in a relationship.....what's it called when you're in your 50s??), I'm really attempting to state the facts. Today, though, Disney made it clear.  You see, there are some Disney movies that, when they are showing, I can play every word of dialogue and every song lyric in my head.  I can do a complete talk and sing-along with these certain few movies.  Today, it was "The Lion King".

It's "Field Day" at school for the the next three days.  During Field Day, a grade level goes outside for their fun races/relays for half of the school day.  Six grade levels, one half day each  = three entire days.  Since the coaches run field day, the 'large group' time happens with me and the art teacher.  All the kids in the grade level, sitting in the gym, watching a movie.  Sounds easy, right?  It is, about eighty percent of the time.  The other twenty percent is filled with the challenge of pre-teens that have attitudes, eight-year-olds that hit each other, or little ones that throw up or bite someone. Today I play imperial ruler and choose which movie will entertain a grade level the best.  I decided that third grade would get "The Lion King".  They needed a powerful movie because they came in all dressed in their colored t-shirts, ready to go for their afternoon of field day.  I was blindly singing along when I sang these words:

"From the day we arrive on the planet

And blinking, step into the sun.

There's more to see than can ever be seen,

more to do than can ever be done.

There's far too much to take in here,

More to find than can ever be found.

But the sun rolling high 

Through the sapphire sky

Keeps great and small on the endless round

It's the Circle of Life

And it moves us all

Through despair and hope

Through faith and love

Till we find our place 

On the path unwinding

It's the Circle,

The Circle of Life"

I'd heard it at least five hundred times before. I've sung along, taught the notes, conducted it in performance. I've even heard it several times since Scott died.  (See what I did there? I'm trying!)  But I heard it differently today because of the progression of events in my life.  Who knew that a cartoon about lions could validate what I was discovering;  that life can move on - from despair to hope?  Quite often though, I find that songs or writings can give me inspiration, validation and a sense of confirmation for what I am feeling.  I think we all do, and that's part of the reason the arts exist.

Moving on doesn't mean we leave our past behind. (Or "your behind in your past" , as Pumbaa says!) Simba didn't want to talk about Mufasa's death, either.  But his friends encouraged him to try to keep enjoying life. "Moving on" is not about forgetting the past;  for me it means finding my place on "the path unwinding".  I have my own personal "Timons and Pumbaas".  Thank you for all your kind words and encouragement to find my place.

Last, but not least, a round of applause for Tim Rice, lyricist, and Disney - well said, my friends.

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.

Where My Brain Goes During Staff Development 1/11/14

It is the bane (or blessing, if you choose) of any teacher's existence:  having to sit through hours of staff development.  Usually occurring at the beginning of the year, prior to students returning from holidays, or on the odd Monday holiday - students off, staff in session, teachers sit for hours to be what; taught new methods?  inspired to change everything they do? be told we're valuable no matter what the world thinks?  If you assume that I've met my quota of staff development hours every year I've taught, then at the end of this year, I've sat through 575 hours of these lovely meetings.  How am I not perfect yet?  Besides the fact that nobody is perfect, the other answer is that over a span of thirty years, the exact same ideas are being implemented, but they are packaged with different wording.  If I say the words from twenty years ago to praise or remind, I'm not doing it right anymore. Same ideas, different words.  I recently sat through a day of listening to a speaker that was guaranteed (by our administration) to be wonderful!!!  You will learn so much! Be excited!  Let me bring out my inner Yoda as I say - "Exciting to me, meetings are not."  I decided to bring a pen and let my thoughts flow onto paper to keep myself looking engaged.  Here's a little view of where my brain went from 8:30 a..m. to 11:30 a.m., with one twenty minute break:

Go ahead, inspire me.  Try to tell me something that I haven't heard.  The first try - telling me I'm older, smarter and I have skills.  As I've said many times before, 'There's your "duh" for the day.'  Keep trying.  Next, you tell me to put my phone out of sight (not a bad thing) because every time it goes off, some chemicals are released in my brain.  Yeah, chemicals are released for me every time I smell the pizza from the cafeteria next door, too.  That's life.  So, you got our phones put away.  Now you go over the handout.  Thank you so much for telling me what is contained in the papers that I'm holding in my hand  Oh good, a new power point slide!  Please read it out loud to me because I'm a teacher and reading is hard.  Also, I do not agree with the quote.  From famed teacher and child psychologist Haim Ginott, it reads:

“I’ve come to a frightening conclusion that I am the decisive element in the classroom. It’s my personal approach that creates the climate. It’s my daily mood that makes the weather. As a teacher, I possess a tremendous power to make a child’s life miserable or joyous. I can be a tool of torture or an instrument of inspiration. I can humiliate or heal. In all situations, it is my response that decides whether a crisis will be escalated or de-escalated and a child humanized or dehumanized.” 
― Haim G. Ginott

I do agree with most of that, but not the crisis escalating part.  I have personally seen situations escalate even when I'm at my personal best.  Dr. Ginott's observations are from the 1950s through the 1970s.  We need to keep the valuable and do away with what has changed with time.

Oooh!  Time to take notes! No, not really, just time to read the note-taking paper to me.  Once again, I guess I can't read.  More of the comedy routine (this is a fairly entertaining speaker, as they go...)about how tired teachers get, and how they go to happy hour together.

Finally!  We take notes about how our classroom looks.  And then about behaviors - we are supposed to tell them (the children) in all our gestures and behaviors that we want them here, we believe they can learn and we'll keep them as safe as possible.  (Good points, I've heard and used them for 23 years.)   Comedy moments were demonstrated concerning how our behavior is communication. (Example - a teacher yelling "What have I told you about yelling?"  haha)

Next we're asked "Do you get mad?"  Discussion (one sided) of what we do when we're mad.  All leading up to the point that we do not choose to sit in time out when we're mad.  So here we are, being told that we are doing it all wrong.  Don't say "don't hit".  Tell a kid that flips everyone off to do it in their pocket.  I don't know if I think that's ridiculous or I'm jealous because I didn't think of it.

We are told to ask ourselves:  "Can I be a perfect role model 100% of the time?"  We are told to remove "appropriate" and "inappropriate" from our disciplinary vocabulary.  Easier said than done.  A little contradiction is going on here. we can set a "parameter" and validate that a child has the urge to [hit, fight, curse, cheat....] and re-iterate the parameter for school.  But when you set parameters at school, isn't that because the action is not appropriate? Does simply changing "inappropriate" to "not ok" change the brain chemical?

So much of what this presenter is saying is the same thing I've been taught - on the job - for years.  And I personally use a lot of these techniques - maybe even in a very excellent, exemplary way.  Many teachers at my school do all these things well.

For the past 2.5 hours, this is what's been said.  It boils down to frame of mind.  She is saying "I did not say there are no consequences".  But she only gave examples of non-working consequences.  She didn't give concrete, usable examples of what to do once it's a necessity.  Consequences are seriously downplayed in the district, though, so that's probably a grand scheme.

Lunch is in six minutes and all I can think about is the pain in the bones of my rear end, as I've been sitting on a 12-inch diameter plastic disc for four hours.  And while I sit here contemplating whether this pain in my rear (literal, this time...) affects my bursitis, the speaker is making some of her most hard-hitting, serious, dynamic points and I'm not hearing a word.  Money well-spent, district?


Thus ends my free-write from my day of learning.  The afternoon session was another three hours of the same thing. My hand wouldn't write anymore.  But you know what?  The next day, students walked into my room.  I let them know that I was happy they were there, that I believed they could learn and that they were in a safe place.  I didn't do that because of the speaker. I did that because I love kids, I love teaching my subject to kids and I naturally adjust to the atmosphere and the basic needs of those kids to get them to learn and love music.

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.

I've Had Enough. (The one you have to look to find because I tell the truth) 11/5/13

I've had enough of some people.  Stop.  Just stop.  Don't tell me how to find a man.  It will be six months in a couple of days, and my heart still thinks he'll walk through the door.  There are so many things for him to do.  How am I supposed to know how to contact his Norwegian accountant, much less pay Norwegian taxes?  I can see it now - little Norway police arriving at my school, asking for me and arresting me, even though I don't have a dragon tattoo!  How much is 629 in Norwegian, anyway?

Work gets in the way.  Yes, I've said in other posts that it's my salvation, but sometimes, it feels as it I'm back in the music building.  You know, posing as a music major.  I always felt that way, because I didn't have that "Ahhhhh!" attitude about all the classical music stuff.  I would rather be out eating pizza or kissing on my boyfriend than practicing until 1 a.m.  For that I was weird?  These days, there are the 1 a.m. people in elementary school.  Okay, maybe 7 p.m.  But I don't share that desire.  That building gets me - all of me - wholeheartedly - (well, I fake that occasionally) - from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m.  After that, I'm not the music teacher anymore.  I'm back to being me.  The widow.  The single mom.  The caretaker of the house/pets/accounts/vehicles/pool/you-name-it-I'm-in-charge-of-it.  When I need to locate four particular papers for the accountant, two more for the lawyer, and do a couple of hours of homework for the financial planner, I really feel as if work needs to go away.  Is there such thing as widow's leave?  There needs to be, and it needs to be the type of  leave that can be spread out for when you need it most. 

I rant here, and I want attention here.  I write because I want people to read this and understand (which you do) and give me an encouraging comment (which you do).  I am an attention hog with a blog.  Please don't hate me.  Let me down gently.  At six months of grief, that will be the only gentle thing that happens.  Life moves on, and I'm expected to move with it.  And I have.  At a limp.  If you know me, you see it.  If you don't know me, I look "so strong".  Hell, what else am I supposed to do, stay under the covers for days on end?  I wish.  I wish my personality allowed me to be a bit more of a delicate flower.  Unfortunately, I am not. I would control everything if I could.  Only if I physically can't or get absolutely shut down do I not exercise control over a situation.  Man, oh man, did death laugh at me.  I shouted at it, cried to it, and have sulked behind it for all these months.  I don't like you, death. 

I don't like a lot of things right now, and one of those things is people that "do it wrong".  Thank goodness, there are only a few of those around me, probably because I keep my shield up almost all the time.  There I go again, being positive behind a negative, because I can't group punish!  Not everybody is bad!  I just want to say, bad ones: just shut up.  I'm done with you.  I will leave the room or I will say "Not talking about that right now, thanks".  Or just: (my favorite from England) "Can't".  It must be said with a British accent, though.  And if I do that, some American might not even know what I'm saying, or might think it's naughty.

If you found this post, know that I'm done. This is hard.  I've had to learn a new way of defending myself.  Until the insensitive idiots out there can stop, maybe learn, maybe change their demeanor; or at least until they shut up......my armor is on, but I'm now armed, and I might stick it to you a time or two.  Someone should.

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.

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.