The end of the National Assembly brings many mixed feelings, but this year, especially so.  Yes, as I mentioned in earlier blogs, there were many things that got my brain moving. I learned SO much, met great new people, heard wonderful music, ate too much food.  I will miss this (until next year of course), but am ready to go home.  But a few things happened today which, even after 26 years of teaching, have challenged me for the school year to come.

While the assembly is geared to the big picture of a national and state by state effort for music education in general, many of the things we talked about this week had to do with diversity and inclusion.  I have heard these terms for some time, in fact, like everything else we’ve reduced it to an acronym; D&I.  I didn’t know that until someone mentioned it in our division meeting.  And for a long time now, for me personally, it’s been just that.  Terminology that describes initiatives we should be undertaking for kids.  As an elementary general music teacher, I see every kid in the school, and it’s what I sometimes refer to as assembly line teaching.  All day long, a class arrives, I teach.  They leave, another arrives, I teach.  Whoever walks into my room, that’s who I teach.  I know classes by personalities, but not always by individuals.  Sure, some kids really stand out for one reason or another, but it’s hard to get to know that many kids individually.

This afternoon, I heard a speaker from Yale talk about the Yale Symposium.  He shared the fact that 85% of immigrants to the United States move into large cities along with other statistics.  Like any researcher, he had many facts and figures and shared how music could change the lives of kids.  Well, this I know from experience.  But as he shared a personal story of one of the students he worked with, a young boy who was playing french horn, he had to stop for a moment because he became emotional.  Seems that this kid was so engaged in music that he had been willing to walk to and from classes,  two miles each way, in all kinds of weather.  The boy lived with his single mother, who worked several jobs, and was gone a lot.  The researcher discovered this when he offered the boy a ride home, even though the boy said it was “close”.  Also during the ride, he asked what the boy wanted to do when he went to college – and this is where he broke for a moment.  The boy’s face lit up and he said “I want to be in music”.  Music brought meaning and purpose to his life and he was willing to persevere in the face of difficult circumstances.  What would happen if we were able to bring music to more kids like him, to give them purpose as well?

At the end of the day, we were asked to watch several difficult videos, all about different kids.  One was a refugee, one child was abused and placed in foster care, one was transgender.  The stories were told from the child’s point of view.  I wish I had written down the percentages, but the number of kids who are dealing with major issues in their lives was staggering.  And the rate of middle school suicides was beyond tragic. I have the fortune to teach in a lovely little school of almost 400 kids, where everything seems really clean and “suburbia”.  But if the percentages are correct, there a lot of kids in that lovely little school really struggling who maybe can’t verbalize it, are afraid to or just don’t trust adults.

So, while I’m doing this assembly line teaching, is there someone in my class who’s silently screaming and I’m just not noticing because I’m too busy making sure I cover all of my essential learning outcomes?  I’ve learned classroom management to the point that very seldom do I reveal my impatience with certain behaviors.  But should I perhaps make it a point to find out what gets this kid excited about music and build that relationship with him/her instead of just sending them off to the counselor or SPED teacher?  And it’s not just those kids who have that wonderful knack for disturbing the entire class, it’s also those kids who want to please, the ones who are screaming for someone to pay attention to them.  The ones who hug on you a little too long at the beginning of class when you just need to get class started.

My vision this year is to see my classroom as a mission field.  I need to listen to those kids, pay attention, LOVE them more.  Start with them right where they are and help them to grow – through music.  I have seen wonderful things happen to kids in my classes, but has it been enough?  Have I been zealous enough in this missionary work or am I ignoring those kids who are just too much to deal with?  I know music helped save me.  Now it’s my turn to make sure it saves others.