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.

Teacher Talk

Tomorrow - my twenty-ninth first day of school as a teacher.  Considering I took five years off, I started teaching thirty-three years ago.  Boy, a lot has changed!  My first year teaching we used paddling as a consequence.  Like I said, times have changed.

Today, the last "teacher work day" before students come tomorrow, I realized something that has not changed.  Teacher talk.  Teachers can spend literal hours talking about teaching.  Do we talk about your children?  Probably; it's our job to help them grow and learn.  We rejoice with them when we do so successfully, and get frustrated when we can't help them reach every goal.  More often, though, we just talk about "how to teach".

"How to teach" is our favorite topic of conversation.  There is no outline, no agenda, just laughter, curiosity, and soaking up knowledge.  What about when they can't hold their pencil?  Try a giant crayon.  How did you get them to write complete sentences?  I used the peers that had it down as the 'sentence police'.  What about the one that blew snot bubbles to get out of standing on the wall at recess?  Oh no, you'll have to be a teacher to hear how to solve that one!

In the space of one hour at lunch today, seven of us learned more about classroom management from each other than we did from the "professional" that lectured us for three hours straight last week.  Because everything we attend must be structured, outlined, documented...on and on with the adjectives, we are never just given meeting time to just sit around and talk.  

Here's a novel idea, school districts, state CEU agencies, instructional specialists, etc.; create a meeting and call it Peer Mentoring.  Have a sign-in sheet, a cold classroom (from what I've seen it's a necessity for these meetings), snacks, water, and just let the teachers be.  Let them talk.  Let the experienced ones tell how they do this and the novice ones tell how they do that.  Let a group of teachers use their experience and knowledge to build each other up.  Teacher talk.  The meeting of the future.

Ring Around the Issue

Everyone wants something done.  There is not a soul that says "Oh, just leave EVERYTHING the way it is, it's working great!"  Everyone is standing around a perfectly round circle, looking toward the center from their personal viewpoint. Many, many points on the circle claim that this is their time to take charge.  This is their time to change what they see as the root of the problem.  Students have a view.  Lawmakers have a view.  Teachers have a view.  Parents have a view.  Law-abiding gun owners have a view. Politicians have a view. Even within each group mentioned, the views may differ widely.

With the advent of immediate news and social networking, it is a foregone conclusion that a democracy such as America sometimes boils down to the fact that the side that makes the most noise wins.  The side that can inflict the most public shame on the other side wins.  What one side thinks is the absolute white to the other side's black and the other side is stupid beyond all belief.

Tragedy creates outcry. The strength and effectiveness of the outcry is in direct correlation to the degree of the tragedy.  When there is alignment between horrific tragedy, a wide net of procedures that were bent or broken, and well-spoken young Americans creating the outcry, the media forces us to pay attention.

It is not my intent in writing this to declare where I am on the circle.  It is my intent to possibly have anyone on any arc of the circle look around and realize there are 360 degrees to the viewpoints that have ideas as to how to respond to this tragedy.  Yes, many things can be addressed; but let's try to be logical!

Are there already laws that aren't being followed?  How about we put some energy and funds into enforcing those laws?  Are there common sense things you can do to prevent that type of tragedy from happening again?  Do it!  Make it a habit!  Just today, I was a local headline on a story about thieves stealing from vehicles; it said "Residents, lock your doors!".  The mindset of a time and place where doors could be left unlocked is not conducive to preventing the type of tragedy we have seen recently. Times have changed.  Taking your shoes off at airport security is a pain, but we do it and feel safer for it! Are you a parent that doesn't snoop?  Do it!! Go through their stuff.  Do they pay for it?  Chances are if they do, it's a very small portion.  Look through backpacks, purses, phones, closets, drawers, computer browsing history, cars - and yes, you may get a bit of a broken heart in doing so, but you will also stay in touch and hopefully learn when to seek help.

Once we step up to the plate with what is already in place, then we can look and see if any big new changes make sense.  Logically.

Try to turn your neck and look at the views on the left and right of your position on the circle. If someone expresses their view from their arc, don't cry stupidity the moment you realize they come from a different angle.  Be logical.  Imagine that you have to answer for your beliefs and your statements. Don't believe something just because of social media or because someone in Hollywood said so.  Be aware that the media - all of it - is the product of humans.  Talk to people.  Be nice to people.  Know that drastic times call for logical intelligence more than they do drastic measures.

Let's Save the World, Teachers!! (Or at least finish the year!) 3/23/14

I saw "Divergent" last night.  I really like the movies set in the dystopian future, especially ones based on YA novels that I have read.  The young people have to overcome all the wrongs that have been set in place by silly grown-ups since the world ended/big war/great disaster...whatever happened in whichever book.  There is always a challenge.  The characters at that point in the story are stretched to their mental and physical limits trying to make it out/in/to the next stage/stay alive. The formula varies, but the final challenge, in the novels and the movies, remains the most tense, suspenseful, casualty-filled part of the story.

All teachers are getting ready to enter their final challenge.  When I thought about going back to school after spring break, I thought about the last thirty minutes of "Divergent".  I also thought about "The Hunger Games" and every single "Harry Potter" book.  We're in the last months now.  Almost every school has about ten to fourteen weeks left.  Testing will be occurring on a regular basis.  Administrators will be needing to wear diapers worrying about testing abnormalities and audits.  Students will be getting in fights and falling in love.  It's funny that they are tested right around the time when their year-long relationship with the others that surround them reaches its peak!

Spring Break is just what is says: a small break.  The imminent end-of-year hill that we climb is in sight even though we are on vacation. (Is it subliminal that I accidentally typed 'hell' instead of 'hill'?)  I hope, all my teacher friends, that you were wise enough to treat yourself well this past week, because that may not happen again for a while.  We all know it, and our smiles and laughs to each other during the day will help us through.

So here we are, teachers....our final battle of this novel (or movie) is approaching.  Choose your weapons, revive your skill-set, encourage your team.  The good guys always win, don't they?  I'm right beside you, let's go!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

Practicing What I Preach or How to Act Like a Grown-Up 11/10/13

"He hit me!"  "I did not!" "Yes, you did, your elbow hit me when you sat down!"  Mrs. McCarty then intervenes:  "If I accidentally stepped on your hand, would I say 'sorry' so, so quickly?"  Elbow child; "Yes...."  "Then say 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that' to her."  Elbow child, mumbling, head down; "I'm sorry."  Mrs. McCarty; "You didn't mean to do that, you're just saying you're sorry that it happened!  That's how we are nice to each other!"  Elbow child; nothing.

This happens at least once a week.  In elementary school, little accidental bumps and jostles can be interpreted by the 'victim' as a crime against themselves and all of humanity.  I always use myself as the example 'bad guy', because they know what my reaction would be. I'm so, so sweet and nice, and I would feel terrible if I stepped on their little hand (which does happen but only a couple times a year, so I have a great safety average!  And no serious injuries ever, thank goodness.)  By telling them to apologize for the fact that the mistake happened, I hope I'm teaching manners, maturity, responsibility, you name it.  The thing is.....can I practice what I preach with adults?

In the process of walking through my grief, I present what I consider a very 'normal' outside.  I work, laugh, joke, complain, suggest....all different from how I feel on the inside.  I hide the sadness by instinct.  It's not because of you that I hide it - it's because of me.  Sometimes I go a little further than I want in the 'normal'.  Evidently, one day, a while ago, I made a comment at lunch (based on a happening conversation, mind you...) that 'maybe there's someone out there for me'.  I didn't mean now.  I might not mean ever.  It was an offhand comment, in context of the conversation.  There was someone there, though, that took my words to heart.

This particular someone is on a totally different path, having been divorced for a long while, and recently seeing someone. A couple of weeks after my comment, this person seriously encouraged me to 'Go online, honey. Match.com, it worked for me.'  I kind of said "Oh really!" and turned the conversation back to my people at my table.  Later, I complained to friends.  That bothered me.  I was approaching only six months without him, how dare this person suggest such a thing right now?  After I complained, and got the sufficient amount of pity from my net  (what's a net?  read this and find out:  http://momastery.com/blog/2013/11/07/idea-title-im-even-sure-read-nets-well-call-nets/

I'm not on drugs, or bulimic, or getting arrested....and I have a net.  I am more fortunate than young Glennon.  I am also thankful that she has found her way in life and for her ability to inspire others.  So...I complained to my net about that 'insensitive remark', got my assurances that I was right, that person was wrong, and was done with it.  I mean, we love to complain to our friends and be assured that our view is the correct one, right?  It's a national sport! 

Well, it happened a second time.  The person had reached a milestone in their new relationship, and was obviously (and rightly) elated.  And once again, they took the chance to look at me and say 'Match.com, I'm tellin' ya, Ms. McCarty'.  OH!!!  I packed up what was left of my chips and yogurt and walked out.  I found some net people.  I told them, incensed.  I got pity and confirmation (Thank you net!)  And then, I realized.....for some reason, that person thinks that's OK, and this is going to keep happening unless I say something.  Boy, did that let the air out of my balloon.  I was going to have to address it, instead of complaining about it!  I knew that as soon as I asked the person to stop, they would totally apologize, maybe even feel badly about having done it, but I DIDN'T WANT to talk to the person.  I had turned into elbow kid!

It took two days.  I knew I had to, and I knew I wanted to do it privately.  I am the grown-up.  When by chance I finally said...."You know, I'm just not ready to hear that, the match.com thing.  Congratulations, so happy for you, but not me, not yet."  The person apologized, said 'of course'.....and brought up the time I said 'maybe there's someone out there for me'.  The person had taken me at my word.  My 'trying to be normal' conversation turned on me, said 'Oh, this is what you want, eh?' and then I had to be a grown-up and say "Sorry, but please don't..." because of my mistake of being fake.  I did it. I was the grown-up.  My net applauded me.  I, on the other hand, did not applaud myself, because I realized that my offhand comment had fed the whole situation. 


Where do I go from here?  If I am the grown-up I think I am, I guess I need to mix a little of my inner sadness in with my outer 'normal'.  The icy covering needs to break and mix with the deep dark cold water of sorrow, and form a slush that can create a completely different attitude from either 'fake' or 'hidden'.  I'm going to work on that.  It's the grown-up thing to do.


A little addendum:

What if I had gone to the person accusingly?  What if I had done it publicly?  Too many people these days don't understand the good manners of taking turns to talk things over, and listening to the other side.  Prime example: any 'political' news show where both parties or pundits that side with both parties are represented.  They all end up yelling and interrupting, guests and hosts alike.  I shudder to think that America bases its actions on what we see on the television.  One of my main problem with politics in any forum is the lack of manners.  How many families have talks about issues?  How many do it the grown-up way?  Do you listen and consider before you yell your defense?  I have news for everyone - you're not always right.  You're also sometimes only partially right.  If you don't listen to what the other side says, you're compounding, not solving the problem.

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. 

Adam Levine is pretty - but just let me look at the sky occasionally 9/21/13

*to Ramona, Christina, Tricia, Meiling and mostly Cathi - thanks for the fun!!

It was a beautiful Thursday night for an outdoor concert.  The rain had cleared and brought the temperature down!  The crowd was immense.  I think every woman and half the men in Houston came out to breathe the same air as Adam Levine.  Maroon 5 is a good band.  But their front man - he sells more than music. Those magazine covers, shirtless.  The always-stylish hair, tattoos, tight clothes. He plays the part of "rock god" to the hilt.  Oh yeah, and he can sing.

I got invited by a very sweet friend to go along with a few other ladies.  I love concerts, and just by inviting me, she gave me a "thing" to look forward to that could take the place of the other wanderings my mind does these days.  Kelly Clarkson and Maroon 5!  Big talent!  Fun friends!  Laughing!  Oh yeah - I laugh a lot.  Sad people can laugh, too.  Things don't stop being funny just because you're sad about something. Sometimes I lead with laughter.  Other times, I simply smile because no laughter is inside me.  I try to do what looks "normal", even though I'm not normal....yet. 

Kelly Clarkson sings a lot of songs about losing boyfriends. I never realized how songs about losing a boyfriend could have so many lyrics that closely mirrored losing a spouse.  Never mind "What Doesn't Kill You".... I was still getting my dinner (nachos, yum.....we bluffed our way into the VIP line so we didn't have to wait as long), so that one didn't really reach me.  But then there was "Because of You", and  "My Life Would Suck Without You".  (Of course, my mind changed the second title to "My Life Does Suck Without You.") I sat, listened, and just looked up at the sky when the waves of sadness came.  The clouds were beautiful.  The moon was to our left.  Only two or three stars were visible, sometimes even those ducking behind the clouds.  I looked for a bit, then it would pass.  Silly songs, silly lyrics, silly middle-aged lady taking them to heart.

After Kelly, the headliners were on stage.  I had personally forgotten how many hits they've had over the years - songs that passed through my eardrums into my brain during the time that daughters ruled the car radio. (In my humble opinion, there is still good music being written and recorded today.  You just need to look a little harder for it.  The fun part about a blog is that it can be my soapbox if I want, it's my blog!)  So, back to Adam Levine. I got the general impression that about 80% of the women in the audience would have left the place with him - as well as about 10% of the men.  Even all the happily married women would have at least wanted to.....introduce the husband? Have coffee?  Show him pics of the kids?  He's very magnetic, and a huge cross-section of America wants to adopt him, for one reason or another. The other percentage of the audience were huge fans of the music - like the short, chubby dancing man in front of us.  I appreciate and understand the craze about Mr. Levine.....but I felt as if everyone was in a museum with me, going crazy over the impressionists.  While I thought they were pretty, I wanted to wander down the hall and look at the Old Masters. I texted my girls at college: "Good concert. Adam Levine is pretty".  (Adam, if you read this, Maddy says she's single.) 

I am actually writing about this to work through why I feel that I would rather meet Jagger than "Moves Like Jagger".   Is it my age?  I'm sure that's a big part.  But most of all,  I just know that I'm still having to look at the sky way too often. I probably don't want to meet Jagger, either.  I try to hide it still.   On any day, if I seem together and happy and secure - I've probably gotten more bad news.  Anymore when bad news comes my way, I seem to deflect it as if I'm wearing some sort of armor. 

Is the fact that I don't react immediately, sadly, uncontrollably, falling-apart-to-broken due to strength?  No.  I've heard that one a lot - "You are so strong."  Meant as a compliment, I hope, to tell me that you admire the fact that I'm not in a fetal position on the floor, screaming.  But it's not strength that keeps me going. There's nothing strong about sighing while I get ready for work, because the house is so empty.  There's nothing strong about hiding behind my smart board to wipe away tears because my choir just broke into "Keep Your Head Up".   There's nothing strong about going to an awesome concert with friends and laughing a lot about family, work and life.  That's just living.  Others may or may not notice when I look at the sky - I don't do it to be noticed, so it's ok if you don't.  I just know that it's a measure of how often I have to re-gather myself to continue being normal.  So I listen to Kelly Clarkson's amazing voice, appreciate her songs and the honest, funny way she talks to the audience, and I just stop and look at the sky when I have to.  And I watch and listen to Adam Levine and Maroon 5, and look at the sky when I have to.  After a few thoughts, a few breaths, I look back at the stage, or if I really need to cheer up, the short chubby dancing man.  It was a good night, friends.  Thank you.

Oh My, The Things They Say! 9/12/13

What fun I have teaching ages 5-11, every year along the way of their elementary school journey.  A music teacher is a constant in their life, year after year.  It's so fun to look at the big, trying-to-be-cool fifth graders and say "Remember when you danced the tango with me?"  "Remember when you said you had a broken head?".  Little ones are always cute. "Mrs. McCarty, do you have some more musics today?"  But big ones are cute, too.  I stated we were going to learn a song from a war - would they like to guess which one?  5th grade boy - "Does it have the word silver in it?" Me - "Yes, if by 'silver' you mean 'civil', in which case, you got it!"  He laughs, we all laugh, and we discuss the word 'civil' then move on to "When Johnny Comes Marching Home".  Innocent mispronunciations to glaringly obvious, but hilarious questions are a part of the teacher's life.  I wish I could remember all of them - but quite a few have stuck in my memory through the years.

"Mrs. McCarty, she's breathing my air!"   Oh my, kindergartners have never had to share anything!

"I have to take a test, then if I pass the test, I go for an auction to see if I can be on television."
(Telling me about trying out for Jeopardy, Jr.)  My gentle correction:  "Pretty sure, since it's a TV show, that it's an audition, not an auction." 

One of my favorites:  I was showing a third grade class my class pictures from first, second, and third grade.  That's one of my lessons on the civil rights movement - all white children for two years, then magically in third grade, a great mix of skin colors.  Third grade for me was also when the school switched from black and white to color photos. (Perhaps to accommodate the new forced melting pot? Or just because photography advanced and it became affordable?)  One of my sweet, but oh-so-innocent third graders raised his hand and asked "Mrs. McCarty, when did the world change from black and white to color?"  Awesome question! 

"What's that big CD thing?"  Yes, it's a record.  I have an entire lesson built around the old classroom record player.  There are always one or two students of course, that say "My Grandpa has one of those!"  yeah, yeah, kids.

Here's a story from a friend that teaches in Florida - an overheard conversation:

Karington (darling student): Leo, can you look that way for my mom?
Leo (another darling): But I don't know what she looks like.
Karington: Yes, you do! She has long blond hair and she smiles like this (demonstrates a smile) and it is the prettiest smile in the whole world. And she is wearing a beautiful pink dress. And she is friends with Mrs. Petty.

Such love for her Mommy, and the fact that Mommy is friends with Mrs. Petty (my sister, smile, smile) just explains everything.

 Here's a favorite:  I have a small Chinese gong on my shelf.  Jacob, a really "cool" fourth grader, a few years ago, very loudly:  "Mrs. McCarty, is that your bong?"  Me - "No, that is the school's, and it's a GONG!!  G-O-N-G, GONG!"  Just saying, dear parents, we teach your children many things, but they teach us things about you, too!


Sometimes, though, funny - but not so cute.  For example, the time two little third grade girls were sitting so close to my feet that one suddenly (and loudly, of course) exclaimed "You've got hair on your toe!!"  Ouch.  I kindly explained (quietly, of course) that  I must have forgotten to take care of that when I shaved my legs, but would definitely remember next time.  I ALSO explained that she was lucky I was happy that day, because that would have made a lot of ladies cry and she needs to be careful when saying that sort of thing out loud.  Now, who wants to say that I just teach music????

Being small is important, too! 8/25/13

A kindergartner once gave me a picture he had drawn.  (Once?  A million times, probably, but I'm thinking of one in particular.) In this picture, I am very, very tall and the child is very small.  It surprised me a little, because I forget just how tall I must seem to those little darlings. Honestly, they might even think I'm a giant!  I try to be very nice to them, so at least they think I'm a nice giant!  As the new year begins tomorrow morning, I will be making sure that I kneel to their level so they aren't scared of me, and see me as kind, caring and someone they can trust.  I will have a "BIG" day tomorrow.  I've found, though, that it is important to have "SMALL" days, also. 

In the classroom, I am a force.  I am in charge.  I am the one that answers the questions.  Right teachers?  Teachers are the ones that establish the procedures and make sure that they occur each day.  Teachers are the voice of authority.  Teachers loom in stature over students - figuratively and sometimes (as in my case) literally.  We are in charge.  Sometimes I'm in charge of so many things that my favorite moment of the day happens when I can say "I don't know, I'm not in charge of that!"

Within a family setting, the adults are BIG, too.  Whether you are a parent or not, you run a household of some sort; making financial decisions, taking care of day-to-day chores, planning vacations, deciding which social events to attend.  We are all BIG within our own house.  It should be that way - our house is where we are loved and valued. When conflict happens within a household, it hurts more, because everybody is BIG, so hurts are big, too.  If you look at the other side of the coin, though, happiness is magnified many times over in a loving house where everyone is BIG.

But what happens when we need to feel SMALL?  When I taught high school, I was BIG within the classroom.  Sometimes, during my planning, I walked one block east, then one block south so I could stand there and look out at the Gulf.  It's vast, and the waves never stop.  Just doing that for a few minutes gave me a peace that I could carry back into the classroom, where I was BIG again.

  I went for a hike in the woods today, with some friends.  As we walked, we talked about problems, victories, plans, hopes, dreams - all those things that you decide at home, where you are BIG.  But every now and then, I looked up from the path.  Enormous mature trees surrounded us.  The path under our feet was uneven, with huge roots crisscrossing under our feet.  Insects whizzed by us - it's their world, and we were interrupting!  I felt small. Really small.  It's a relief to be small for a while.  Our hike stopped for a while at an old cemetery.  We've visited before, it's small, well-kept, peaceful and beautiful in its own way.  I started looking at headstones that were shared by husbands and wives.  In that tiny cemetery, I saw so many wives that outlived their husbands by ten, twenty, even forty years.  Some of the births date back to the 1860s, while the deaths begin around 1880.  The thought occurred to me, while standing in that cemetery, that I am not the first widow in the history of the world, nor will I be the last.  The thing that has become my main identifying factor right now is actually smaller than I thought it was.  That doesn't make it any less sad, or difficult.  Me saying that it is small is not saying that it doesn't devastate me  I never know when it is going to strike me like a lightening bolt.  No, what I discovered in the cemetery today is that I will go on living.  That discovery lets me know that I will face BIG type choices about my own self, and will have be able to decide things and keep on living.

Tomorrow is the first day of school for students.  As teachers, we actually have to be enormous tomorrow.  We have to establish procedure, start building relationships, be kind, caring and loving at the same time we are laying behavioral groundwork, going over the rules and nipping potential foolish students in the bud.  It's huge.

 I hope that all my teacher friends have found some time to be SMALL this weekend. It can be nature that gives you that feeling.  It can be a crowd - I'll bet my friends that were at the Texans game today felt SMALL.  Sunday worship reminds us how SMALL, yet valuable we are. There are plenty of ways to feel SMALL, so that you can go back to being BIG - successfully.  Nothing is worse than a mean giant.  I wish all of you equal amounts of BIG and SMALL

The T-shirt Rebellion 8/22/13

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

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

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

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

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

The First Day Blues 8/19/13

First day blues.....I got 'em.  I prepared myself to go back to work, I did.  I wrote another piece to tell people how I feel, but please treat me normally - and they did!  I love them!  I went in with dear friends last week who helped do some of the not-fun work in the classroom!  I'm ahead of my usual game! (So I thought....)  Then, it happened.

I was up until midnight, having caught a flight back to Houston from instilling dear daughters in their college apartment.  I told them goodbye, hugged them, told them I loved them and walked away.  It took until after I got through security for it to hit me - I'm alone.  I can do what I want right now, as long as I make my plane.  And that won't change.  After I get home tonight, I can do what I want, and nobody will even have a clue.  Whether I watch TV, eat a snack, play the piano, read a book, do some sewing, clean house, play computer games, blog.......it's my time and nobody is there to interrupt it.  The very thought that used to sound idyllic is now nothing but sad. 

In truth, the reality was a couple of games of that candy game, then sleep.  Alarm ringing far too early, and going about the morning routine that I've followed for years.  Monday morning kicking me..."keep moving!"  it says.  Realizing as I leave the house that I can turn off the coffee and all the lights, nobody else is there to wake up later.  Getting to work and seeing my good friends, and all the other precious people.  They have chik-fil-a breakfast biscuits!!  Woo-hoo!  All good, healthy intentions go out the window as I get a biscuit to go with my coffee.  I sit in my assigned place, take two bites of breakfast deliciousness (in-between talking) and then the announcement begins.  "Time for our ice-breaker!"  With all the veracity in the world, and no sarcasm (although I know that my faithful readers always imagine my sarcasm, because they know me), it was not a bad ice-breaker. Clever idea.  Comment or contact me somehow if you weren't there and want to know the details.  But was my mind on the game?  NO!  There was a chicken biscuit sitting there getting cold, doesn't anyone see how dire the situation is?  Alas, it was not warm at all by the time the ice-breaker was over.  That was a real shame, as for the next twenty-three minutes, I had to watch an inspirational speaker on video.  Great ideas, of course.  They wouldn't pay for/use these things if they weren't good.  But did they know my biscuit was cold and the cafeteria seat was only three-quarters the size of my personal seating area?

The meetings weren't too bad.  It's as if someone even heard some of my suggestions.  Yes, there was some reading of papers (not even a powerpoint - just a paper under an Elmo document viewer, as if anyone in the room could read it.) , but there were also a lot of portions where just the new and important information was given.  Not great, but not bad. 

The hard part was a simple thing.  Every year we fill out an emergency contact sheet.  You know, who to contact in case of emergency.  I saw everyone around me putting their husband's/wife's name on the first line, and the "I'm so weird!" brick hit me again.  The tears were just behind my eyes the rest of the day. Almost.  Lunch with my team was good and fun.  But being in the classroom just feels different now.  All afternoon to work in the classroom, too!  But the core of me knows I'm alone, even if I'm surrounded by friends.  Oh, I also found out that another car needs a $400 repair and the dogs escaped today.  They were back home by the time I saw the text, I'm thankful for that and for dear friend that hunts down my dogs.

The point is....there's no point.  I am alone.  But not totally.  Pouring these words onto the computer helps.  I actually think the day might've felt different, though, if I would have gotten to finish that biscuit before it got cold.  Maybe tomorrow.

Just Ok 8/14/13

*The opinions and scenarios below are not intended to cause guilt, blame or any such feeling from anyone.  If anything, I feel guilty for being the one with baggage, the one you must be "careful" around. 

"How was your summer?"  The opening line of anyone going back to school - students and teachers.  Contrary to what you may think, not all teachers hang out together all summer long.  We intend to "get together", and then the next thing you know, it's time to go back to those glorious meetings. 

My school family knows me, they know my situation, and they know that my answer - "just ok" - is justified.  It's not a bad attitude, it's not a diagnosed condition, it's just that truthfully - trying to make it through the last three months since my husband has been gone has only been "just ok".  Matter of fact, sometimes, it's been horrible.  Sometimes it's been numbing.  Sometimes it's been manic - when I feel a little happiness, I go a little nuts because I'm not sure I'll feel happy again for a while.

I am blessed to have a work family that knows and understands.  I want them to know - I don't care what you say to me. "How was your summer?" is normal.  "How've you been?" is normal.  I want to be normal.  But I also have been changed in such a way that my answer to you might be "Just ok." or "Not so good.".  Please don't let my honesty make you uncomfortable, just go with the flow. Tell me "I guess not." or "I understand." or "You're allowed.".  Then we'll keep talking.  If I turn insular for a moment, talking on and on about myself,  wait until I take a breath and tell me where you went on your vacation.  Every time I talk with someone or some group in a regular way, I am walking that path back to being normal.

I am just ok, by the way.  I am a bundle of fears, plans, wishes, pain, hopes, loneliness, perseverance, wanting to give up, positive one day/negative the next....and did I say fears?  I might talk your ear off about having to sell my house because it's too ridiculously big for us, or I might keep it from you that I have to go to court for probate one day. In trying to be normal, I hope you, all my friends, will let me choose what to share and what to keep.  You are all so kind and understanding, I know you will.

"How was your summer?"  "It was just ok, how about you?"  The ball's in your court. Help me back to normal. I love you, my friends.

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.

The Voice of Authority 7/30/13

It comes naturally to most teachers; that take-charge voice that can command a crowd.  If you're a very good teacher, it will simply sound authoritative and never sound like yelling.  There is an art to it!  As with any art form, some are more talented than others.  I want to make clear from the start of this post that I do not equate an authoritative voice with actual intelligence, necessarily.  (Except in my case, of course!)  Just because someone can speak as if they know what they are doing and know what is best for you, it "ain't necessarily so".

I speak loudly when necessary.  My sisters and I yelled a lot at growing up.  Not in a bad way, just.....LOUD!  We weren't obnoxiously loud in public (usually), but the house.....that was another story.  With three girls, there was a good bit of yelling that happened in the house.  It wasn't a large house, either.  We just got in a habit of yelling to each other across the house and it stuck.  Mama, the drama teacher, never had to tell us to project! So, I have to ability to speak very strongly. It's truly different from yelling, mind you, but still quite strong. (and a bit loud ;)  Using a strong speaking voice is an effective tool in the classroom, especially since I moved to Texas and teach anywhere from twenty to fifty children at a time! Here's a clarification for the rest of the story, however: speaking with authority does not have to involve a loud volume.  You can speak softly and project a quiet confidence that draws others to listen.  So don't think "loud", think "authority"!

The voice of authority has other uses besides the classroom.  Have you ever tried to return anything at a store?  I knew someone once that had to make up a complete story about why the item didn't work.  How ridiculous!  If you are within the return policy, I told that friend, you simply say "I'd like to return this, please.".  If you sound like you know what you're doing, 95% of the battle is already won.

I feel a little sorry for people that don't have the authority-voice. I have a former boss that has a real fear of microphones.  I also have several friends that think they can't speak in front of a crowd.  One, recently, just HAD to make the crowd laugh with her.  I think she made a joke about picturing all of them in their underwear, or naked....OK, maybe that works.  If the crowd laughs, they are with you - they are listening.  That's the point, right?  I believe everyone should have an authority-voice that they can use when necessary.

The voice of authority can make people behave - if used properly.  Once, at a gathering, one attendee had imbibed (!) a couple of glasses of wine, and was not listening to anyone.  I used my quiet voice of authority and said:  "Put your glass down, now."  Immediate compliance.  I won't lie - we gave several more commands to watch to whom the person would listen....turned out to be only me!  You can use the voice creatively and as entertainment.

Sometimes the voice of authority can save lives.  I heard a story from my children a few nights ago.  They went to a concert at which they had general admission "lawn seats".  The lawn at this venue is quite large, but was sold out for this particular event, therefore quite crowded.  A group of younger students was in front of my children and their friends.  One of the younger girls passed out.  Her friends phoned her mom, but just left her lying there until such time that the mom would arrive. My children, and all their friends, spoke up with the voice of authority and said "You need to get her to the paramedics, she is in danger!"  The younger group did not agree.  But my children and their friends stepped up to the occasion, carried the girl to the paramedics, by which time she obviously needed help and was taken in an ambulance.  My children and their friends did not know this girl, but they prevailed against her extremely immature friends and helped the young lady to medical attention.  In my mind's eye, I can hear my daughter using her authority-voice to tell those kids off.  (This has another moral, too - parents, please tell your children that their safety and well-being will always come before any "punishment".  Safety first, discussions about behavior later, because you love them!)

The most important use of an authoritative voice, however, is to advance you in school or career.  This is one of the main lessons I teach when students perform "programs" and receive a "speaking part".  If I can encourage a second-grader to speak clearly into a microphone, and then have that same child add emotion or comic timing by the time they are in fourth grade, I am giving them a valuable skill that will last a lifetime. I'm lucky enough to have seen many of them succeed as adults.  Only occasionally do they realize that Mrs. McCarty helped start them on their path to success, but that's all right, I still know where it all began!

I encourage you, when you know what you're talking about, speak out! Don't over-use the skill, find the balance.  Make sure you speak for fairness and good. Speak with authority! Only do so, though, if you are sure that you are correct. Be confident! When it comes the time to speak up for what is right against those that would do the wrong thing, be glad that you can use your authority for right to prevail.


"There is no index of character so sure as the voice."    Benjamin Disraeli

The thing about Keswick...

 

Dedicated to the friends and teachers from my time at Keswick Christian School, and especially to the class of 1980, all 31 of us!

I went to a private school.  That always elicits responses – “I went to Catholic school, too!”  No, I went to a private school.  “Oh, you mean like a rich boarding school or something?”  Time to expound.  No, I went to a private, Christian, non-denominational school.  Silence.  Not a church-based school, no one denomination, I explain.  Just a private, Christian school.  And the thing is…..it was a special place.

This school was not large.  There were thirty-one in my graduating class.  But we acted large.  We stepped out with faith and had soccer, volleyball, basketball, swimming, track, baseball, softball, band, chorus, drama, clubs, student council, banquets, class trips, you name it.  (Conspicuously absent from that list: football.  They have it now, though.) 

At a school that small, you get to know each other.  I mean KNOW each other.  I’m not saying that level of comfort lasted through to adult life – it dissipates after graduation.  Jobs and college cause new circles of friends to finally happen.  Also – having acquaintances finally happens.  Nobody was just an acquaintance at Keswick.  If they weren’t a good friend, they were “in your class”.  “In your class” at Keswick was just another way of saying you spent every day together, listening, learning, praying, laughing, creating, practicing, traveling, eating and trying to be big kids, just like public school.

It goes without saying, then, that Keswick students don’t forget each other.  They move on, marry other type people (most of the time), move away, claim their college or university over their high school (a normal progression), have families, most of their children go to different (even public!) schools; but bring up a Keswick name, and they immediately know who it is and how they used to act.  Bring up a Keswick teacher’s name, and the stories and memories come flooding back.  And most of all: let some sort of difficulty, even tragedy, befall a Keswick person, and support is automatically there from the other Keswick people.

It’s funny – I asked Facebook friends to share a favorite Keswick memory, and most of what was shared involved small details or equipment/activities that set us apart from other schools.  I thought I would get a response about the friendships formed; the kind of friendships where you can just pick up talking again after thirty years.  That was what my “thing” about Keswick is:  the people.  I recently saw three Keswick friends – from my class of thirty-one – at my husband’s memorial service.  They drove almost three hours to be there for me. Many others contacted me in various ways. That, to me, is what has lasted – the friendships.  True, some of my Facebook people mentioned “good friends”.  Evidently, though, there are many other strong memories and lasting effects of having attended Keswick.

Some of the contributions:  Four-square in the morning before school!  (Unsupervised, mind you – unheard of today.)  Never wanting to wear plaid again!  Getting paddled!  Sitting out on the log!  Unique P.E. subjects – swimming, trampoline, and archery!  Unique playground equipment – the witches hat! Teachers with trademark sayings – “semi, semi, semi, space”  “There’s allllllllways the two percent!”  Then there was the very fact that we had to wear a uniform skirt and HAD to wear socks and closed- toe shoes. This led to many interesting fashion choices, albeit on feet only. (Mine?  Yellow penny loafers and gold suede Adidas.)  The campus was so spread out that they used a school bus to take us to the cafeteria on rainy days.  Great memories!  Honestly?  Not all memories were perfect.  There were times when I was treated very unfairly.  (And I'm not talking about never making the cheerleading squad!)  I think every former "Keswickian" can recall a time when the need to follow all the rules left innocent individuals in undeserved trouble.  The way I see it now, it just makes a great story to tell every now and then.  To me, the privileges available, the fun, our senses of humor and the close-knit setting outweighed those "other" moments.

 But last, and probably greatest of the memories that were shared (said by another, but also said by myself so many times over the past thirty years) “John 10:10 burned into my head permanently”.  What?  John 10:10? The Bible verse?  Yes, but only three words of it.  The condensed version.  It looked like this:  Life………..more abundantly. Underneath, in smaller letters, it said John 10:10, in case you forgot, week after week.  This verse-portion was on the front wall of our chapel, where we attended service once a week.  I’m sure that back in the 1970s, I knew exactly how many dots were between ‘Life’ and ‘more’. 

I did say Keswick was a Christian school, right?  We prayed before every class, every ball game, every concert and play.  Many families gave unselfishly to causes or the school itself.  We could find ourselves discussing spiritual truths in Algebra, Science, English, you-name-it.  Our teachers were not only teachers of their subject, but they were charged with caring for our growth into fine young Christian adults.  (I don’t think they got paid enough!!)  One that I know personally has always lived what she preached.  I think almost all the faculty at that school felt and acted the same.  This might all sound a little over the top to today’s people.  But in our case, it worked.  The atmosphere, the unique-ness, the guidance received, and the rules (sorry, everyone) but mostly the care of a group of teachers that were actually our teen-life shepherds, turned us, for the most part, into the people we are today.

It’s very sad that a death in my immediate family made me realize what I’ve known inside all along: Keswick friends are forever friends. Denomination still doesn't matter.   If you are truly hurting or in need, those people will reach out to you.  At Keswick, we were prepared to be servants and to live “New Life” to the fullest.  These habits are ingrained and minister to the world today many years later, through many individuals.  The thing about Keswick is...it really did teach us, in spite of any present heartache, to live

“Life………more abundantly.”

                                                                                                                                John 10:10


*Ok, maybe I'm a little bitter about not being a cheerleader.....:)  I welcome comments and memories from all!