This morning I sat in a room full of friends, old and new, looked around in a panic and asked myself, why am I here?  All of the old tapes popped in my head saying things like, you’re not good enough, not educated enough, not literate enough to be with these people and have anything meaningful to say.  It’s that whole Imposter’s Syndrome for sure – they’re going to find out that I really don’t have a clue as to what I’m doing.

That’s the thing about hanging out with these great people – they can challenge you to do and be more than you could have ever imagined, and yet if I allow them, they can intimidate the heck out of you.  Understand that they’re not the ones making me feel that way, I am.  However, there’s one perspective to music education that most of them don’t have, and that’s my perspective as an elementary general music teacher.

While I’m still making my way around financial reports, policy making and the like, I know exactly what it feels like to be at what can be considered at the bottom of the totem pole in music education.  My kids don’t win trophies or superior ratings at contests or get scholarships to universities.  Shoot, some of them still have difficulty getting out complete sentences without starting over several times.  My day is filled with introducing and reviewing content, singing, dancing, playing instruments and learning vocabulary, tying shoes, giving hugs, wiping tears and sending kids to the bathroom.  The nitty gritty every day teaching that sometimes makes you feel like a glorified babysitter.  The unappreciated, you’re just here so I can have a plan time, the grades in music aren’t important teacher who only wants to bring the joy of music into children’s lives so that they may become better, kinder, more thoughtful, wholly educated people.

Many of us work in isolation, in an assembly line world where every 50 minutes another class of children walks in and you might get to see another adult for 30 seconds or so.  Truthfully, many of us kind of like this as it gives us some autonomy.  Within parameters, I can teach what I want, when I want, how I want.  If my kids are catching on faster, I can go on, and if they need more time, I can give them more time.  But none of this lends itself to studying financial reports and helping to creating policy papers.  And sometimes my almost colloquial use of classroom stories and language feels out of place among those with terminal degrees teaching graduate students.  But it’s my perspective.

It’s the perspective of thousands of elementary general music teachers across the country, the teachers who are providing the foundation for students to understand, create and enjoy music.  We can be the reason they either love or hate music for the rest of their lives. It’s a huge responsibility.  Our perspective is important and needs to be heard.

So, as I calmed myself, I realized that I do have something to contribute to the conversation.  I can be the voice of the public school music teacher, the one to remind those who have gone on to higher education or administration that we are to think of and serve the membership and their students.  It should be the first thing we ask ourselves when we consider those financial reports and policies.  How will this help those teachers in the trenches and their students?

I should clarify that I work with a marvelous group of educators who are passionate about quality music education and believe it should be for all students.  However, once in a while, when we get caught up in word smithing or formatting, we need to stop and remind ourselves of that bottom line and maybe look at things again from my perspective.