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. 

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.

It's just NOT

I heard long ago that security of life is different in third world countries than it is here.  That they understand the fact that not all their friends and family will even make it to adulthood. I am so saddened to see that things are starting to look that way in the U.S.A.  We barely move on from the news of one shooting when another happens.   When did people become so violent? It's not the availability of the weapons.  It's not that we need prison reform.  It's not the failing of any system or program, although many are failing.  It's simply that,  somewhere along the way, some humans have decided for themselves that it's perfectly acceptable to take a life. Or many.

It is not.

It's not ok to hurt or kill another person. It's just not. I don't know where the breakdown is,  but we must rise up and agree that killing is wrong.  We must encourage and teach each other,  old or young, that killing another person is wrong.  Forget about blaming inanimate objects and start joining together teaching that we can be nice. We CAN not kill. Because it's not ok.

Love or hate?

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

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

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

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

Waking up those teens!

I just read another one of those posts: "If you don't want to ruin your teenager, stop doing these things immediately!".  Well, I didn't read it, I glanced at it.  The first item it mentioned was waking them up in the morning.  I just........don't agree with that!

The morning wake-up was a tradition when I was growing up.  All the way until I left for college, my dad had the kid wake-up duty.  He performed it with humor, style, information and (when I look back) flat-out love.  There were three kid bedrooms along a straight hallway.  He would march down the hallway, singing - out of tune -  "Happy Monday (or whatever day) Morning!"  and proclaim the news of the day.  It could be the result of a basketball match between two rival schools, what the dog had already done that morning, or what exciting event awaited our day or night ahead.  Yes, there were days when it was just "Hurry up, get up", but there were also some other days when a bugle was being blown.  In the hallway.  Outside our bedrooms. A bugle. I owned an alarm clock, and used it as well, but I counted on Dad being there.  When I left for college, I missed it.  I didn't miss class, I didn't not get out of bed because my parent wasn't there.  I knew that I was now on my own and had to get up when the alarm went off!

I carried on the tradition and tried to wake up my kids every day.  I wasn't perfect, but I know they can hear my voice saying "Good morning, sunshine!" even now if they try. Parents of teens - they might even talk to you like a human when they first wake up!  Oh, they learned to do laundry, cook, wash dishes, shop, budget money and time.......but waking up?  My opinion is....do that as long as you can.  When it's gone, it's gone.

Joy is a Fuel

Have you ever experienced plain ol' joy?  Just feeling so happy that you just throw your head back and laugh?  There are many occasions in life that can cause joy; the ones dealing with love and family are the most common.  Falling in love, expecting a baby, being proud of your child, spouse, parent.......the joy that comes within relationships is beautiful, and buoys us through life's hard times. Sometimes, though, I find an unexpected joy in art.  Seeing something amazing or beautiful first takes my breath away, then makes me laugh.  I think that's one of the reasons I teach music.

I experienced - heard and watched plain ol' joy last night.  Tommy James (of Tommy James and the Shondells) left the stage during "Mony, Mony" just to shake hands, give hugs, pose for selfies, greet a lady in a wheelchair - for about fifteen minutes while the band just vamped.  It was so joyful because he was so unassuming. First he jammed that awesome song, then just walked out like he wanted to hug everyone in the place.  Who does that these days?  We didn't run up for hugs, but just laughed and watched it all happen.  Happiness.  For those minutes, you can forget bills, aches and pains, worries, all the heartbreak that's happening in this world - and feel some joy.

I felt amazement and joy when the stage version of The Lion King began.  Giraffes, monkeys, hyenas, hippos - all right before my eyes.  Amazing.  I felt a numbness that approached awe when I stood before El Greco's "A View Of Toledo".  Having loved the painting through pictures in books for so many years, the real item struck me speechless.

I don't condone running away from our troubles. I especially don't condone not finding a niche where you can try to ease a small part of the world's heartache. ("Brighten the Corner Where You Are" - but that's another story.)  I highly condone, however, finding the joy in music, art, writing, drama - whichever form of creativity awes you - and letting that fuel you for turning back to bills, sickness and the difficult sadness in the world with renewed ambition to help.  Let the arts feed you.

Anyone Have Any Pull With Kroger? Anyone?

Robbie and I have a confession to make.  We're in a really bad relationship.......it's a true "love-hate" relationship with Kroger. That's right, a grocery store.  When we met, we both lived in cities that had Kroger grocery stores.  Not only that, but there was a Kroger close to each of our respective houses. Kroger is a wonderland of a grocery store and we absolutely love it.  They have a huge, always-fresh produce section, a bakery with everything you could imagine, sushi wrapped right in front of you, a deli that spans the gamut of delights, Kroger-brand items at substantial savings (yet equal or better quality), the gas savings on the Kroger card; all right, I'm going on and on, but you get the picture.

In August 2015, we moved to Biloxi, Mississippi.  We were very excited to be moving to "the Coast", and truly are loving it.  Except for one thing:  there is no Kroger.  We knew that, going in, but we hadn't had the true chance to shop at the available places week after week.  There is Rouse's, out of New Orleans, a nice store that usually has some fresh shrimp and other seafood.  It's one of our "standbys", as is the Wal-Mart Neighborhood Market, which has the freshest produce.  There are also a couple of Winn-Dixies; I go there if I want to feel sad.

Kroger pulled out of the Mississippi Coast around 1995.  I never really found out why, I just know that our Kroger on Highway 49 in Orange Grove became an Albertsons - and it was a fairly painless change at first.  I moved away from the Coast in 1996, back in 2001 and never saw another Kroger.  Never saw one, that is, until moving to Houston in 2006.  Houston suburbs are the grocery store mecca. Kroger Selects, Randalls, and H.E.B. all trying to outdo one another.  You can get really spoiled, grocery-wise, in Houston.  When I met Robbie, we agreed that Kroger was our favorite.  He had one only a couple miles from his house in Byram, outside Jackson, Mississippi.  That Kroger in Byram is the one that made us realize what we were missing once we moved to Biloxi.

We didn't sell the house in Byram until a year after we bought the house in Biloxi.  There were many, many trips the three hours north, to visit family and prepare the house to be on the market.  In between those trips, we were living - and grocery shopping in Gulfport/Biloxi.  That experience cemented the contrast between what we have on the Coast and what are lacking.

Every time we walked into Kroger in Byram, we would feel an elation in just looking around that lasted about thirty seconds.  The elation would immediately turn to sighs of sadness.  All of the sudden we were two wide-eyed kids in the Disneyworld of grocery stores, looking around, knowing that we could only visit briefly, never stay.

I don't know why Kroger doesn't want to invest in any properties on the Mississippi Coast.  Or - maybe I do, that other K-name in 2005 left too many scars for some to ever take a chance again.   We just wish Kroger were braver, kinder, were able to tough it out and give us our amazing grocery experience.  If any of you out there have any pull with the Kroger company, put in a good word for the Coast. We deserve it.

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.

A Grocery Store Revolution

We must all.........

Everybody has an answer to fill in the blank.  Everybody knows what it takes. Words like love, respect, prayer, patience, peace, tolerance, reform, control, matter; words, words, words, ideas, ideas, ideas.    Let me ask a question: When you walk out of your door, get in your car and go buy groceries, are you living up to your words?  Are you practicing your ideas? How do we do that?

Everybody has to buy groceries.  We don't always enjoy it, but we do it to live.  Let's take a scene at the local Wal-Mart Neighborhood Market.  It's weekly shopping time.  Everyone arrives at the store in their own way - driving, walking, bus, however.  When you walk through the doors of the Market, you become a "grocery-store person".  You choose your buggy (cart, basket).  So does everyone else.  You walk each aisle according to your list, or your shopping style. So does everyone else.  Do you ever really pay attention to the "grocery-store people"?

There's a family blocking the cereal aisle because the four kids won't stay on one side.  There are teenagers being loud, perhaps even pushing one another in the cart.  There are senior citizens moving slowly and standing for what seems like forever in front of the eggs, just when you need some.  Do you practice your ideas on these people?  I'm not specifying what race or religion, these are just grocery-store people.  Do you smile?  Do you speak a kind word?  Do you respect?  Do you remind yourself in your own mind that they were once you, or could be the future you? 

I think this is where it starts.  I have had many occasions to simply smile at someone that may have made me impatient or uncomfortable.  I'm also not so innocent that I don't think of how to defend myself in certain places and situations - but I don't think that will build the better world for which we all long.  I don't pretend to have the answer as to what will build that better world; but I do know that you can give it a jump-start at the grocery store. Start a revolution.  Smile at someone today.  

Happy Birthday, Mitzi!

Mitzi turned two yesterday.  Mitzi is my Mitsubishi Outlander.  Although she's only two, she already has 42,000 miles.  Once I bought Mitzi, life shifted into the fast lane.  I wrote a little story about test driving Mitzi and Peter Frampton playing on the radio.  A man named Robbie made a comment about my story in a grief forum.  A couple of weeks later he messaged me.  Now that I know Robbie, I am surprised he ever sent that message!  The story that I shared  with the world ended where Robbie and I got engaged.  The truth is that the engagement started a whirlwind of activity that has only just started to slow down a bit!

Planning a wedding wasn't easy, even as small of an event as we had.  There were only thirty family and close friends invited and the wedding was held at a beautiful nine-bedroom house in Destin, Florida.  It could not have happened without the help of said family and friends and for that we are forever grateful.  The only regret was that both of our fathers were unable to be there.  We loved our ceremony and the fact that both families were able to remember and honor those that we lost while still celebrating with us in our new found happiness. 

We decided, not long after, that moving to the Mississippi Coast would be our goal.  We were still sending wedding thank-yous  as I began filling out job applications.  Once interviews were scheduled, preliminary plans for selling the Texas house began.  Once I got a job, searching for a place to live (with six pets!!!) was difficult.  It began as wanting to rent a house for a year to figure out what we wanted, but soon changed to going ahead and buying a house.  Buying takes a little time, so we had to also find a furnished apartment to rent so that I could start the new job.  I kept a calendar over the summer, using code letters for which house we actually slept in that evening.  There was only one occasion where we spent more than seven nights in one place.  A triangle was carved on the highways from Houston to Jackson to Biloxi.  And Mitzi was the champ that traveled those miles.  She was relieved upon occasion by a Penske truck or two, but she also took her turn pulling "Dino", the 12-foot Uhaul trailer.  Mitzi has taken us on uncertain rides, heard us complain and cry and voice our fears; but Mitzi has also heard our laughter, our hopes, our wonder at the beautiful sunsets and rainbows.  And yes, Mitzi has seen our hugs and kisses along the way.  Just this past Christmas, she traveled, full of presents and wearing reindeer antlers, to bring family - and three dogs - together for the holiday.   

Mitzi turned two yesterday.  She has two dents, but don't we all?  I took her for a full wash and cleaning at Classy Chassis.  She deserved it.

Speak Up!

One year ago today, I received a message.  It was an unsolicited message.  It was very nice.  It was sent by another person just reaching out to say 'Hey! You're doing all right!" Do you ever have the feeling that you should just tell someone they're doing well?  It's a wonderful instinct that, in my opinion, should be followed as often as you can!

A year ago, I read and occasionally posted in a grief forum for spouse/partner loss.  I had recently started posting links to this blog.  Everyone on there was going through the same thing.  They still are now, and new ones have appeared.  There is a lot of explaining and sharing each one's personal story, encouragement and asking "Is this normal?".  Forums may be right for some, not right for others.  As a matter of fact, not every forum is right for every person.  The truth is:  when you've lost your spouse and come home to an empty house, the forums are.......there.  An empty house becomes a living, breathing reminder that you are alone.  These days, however, it is possible to sit at your computer and communicate with others, therefore feeling not so alone.

On this particular forum, you could post, comment on posts and send private messages.  There had been a few instances in December 2013 when I had commented on posts by a 'Robbie R' (and vice- versa).  Those comments are still there today.  On January 26th, I received a private message from him.  It was very sweet and encouraging and talked a bit about the loneliness.  I answered it just as sweetly (of course!) and the exchange of communication began.

Today, we are twelve days away from getting married.  We've yet to decide on a cake topper, but the idea of two computers has popped into my mind more than a few times!  I want to take this opportunity to thank 'Robbie R' for having the courage to send me a message.  It wasn't flirtatious or suggestive, it was simply straightforward and encouraging.  I did write a few blogs that complained about subjects (surprise!) and he was able to agree with me and say "Yeah, what about that?".  He spoke up.  It takes nerve to speak up.

If you hear or see something that makes you want to speak up, you should give it some thought, and then do it if it seems right.  From the grief-stricken to the most happy, everyone needs to hear things like "I agree with you."  "You're doing a great job."  "I feel the same way."  "You'll never know how what you did affected me." and "Keep up the good work.".  Robbie and I are examples of how speaking up at the right time can bring change to your life.  I'm not going to promise that yours will lead to marriage, of course, but the effect of kind encouraging words on others can make this world a better place.

A Fair Catch 10/30/14

I get a little disappointed when my team doesn't try to run the kickoff.  I suppose the special teams players know exactly when they should take that chance and when they should just wave their arm and kneel, knowing they'll get to start from the twenty yard line.  Recently though, I looked at the fair catch from the kickoff returner's point of view.

He was looking high into the sky at the same time that all these enormous beings were rushing toward him with the sole purpose of knocking him flat, if not backward.  Between glances at the ball, which he must catch, he had to judge how many and how close the enormous beings were so that he could know whether to wave his arm casually and kneel down.  At that point, the enormous beings have to rein in their attack and run on past him, not touching him at all.

Robbie and I are engaged.  We first talked about getting married a while ago.  It was an inevitable, perfect progression from messaging, talking, meeting, dating, meeting family members and realizing that we loved each other and didn't want to be alone ever again.  Within that realization was also the clear-cut knowledge of what marriage involves.  Both of us have already successfully navigated richer or poorer,  better or worse, and especially sickness and health. We know what commitment means, and we are committed to each other now.

The engagement was not a surprise to the close family members.  Our parents and children, especially, love us, understand fully, and want us to be happy.  There were a few stirrings that we heard about secondhand.  People like to think that they know what's best in a situation when they have no idea what the situation is actually like.  I look on those individuals as the enormous defensive players bearing down on our situation that we are trying to carefully and happily enact.  To those people:  I wave my arm.  I call a fair catch.  Run on past us and let's start a new drive.  We'll return to the game together.  It may be on the twenty with a long way to go, but we're going to do it together.  I love Robbie and he loves me.  We know what's in store and we're ready.  Watch out - it's going to be a touchdown.