They say timing is everything.  So in terms of timing, so far we’ve done pretty well.  We’re beating the heat in Nebraska (95-100 degrees each day) and flying to an island that I have yet to figure out if it’s in the Gulf or in the Atlantic Ocean.  Or maybe it’s a Caribbean Island?  Is that a body of water?  I really need to brush up on my geography.  I’m not usually this blond, no offense intended to my blond friends. Anyway, the steady temps of 87 for a high and 82 for a low for the duration of our stay sounds perfect to me.  Right now we’re flying around tropical storm Barry which I’m grateful decided to head west rather than east, although I’m saying prayers for the people being affected by this storm.  From this vantage point however, the cloud formations and light show are spectacular. 

We talked about what we’re looking forward to; the pool in the backyard, the palm trees, ocean breezes, great food, sightseeing.  Something different from the craziness that is our lives.  The craziness that continues to follow us although we’ve made a pact that there will be no work this week.  We’ll see how that goes.  And yes, I brought the laptop with me so that we can look things up and buy tickets online and find great restaurants and write my blog as I feel led. 

Last night after I had finished packing, out of the blue, I heard from a long lost cousin, someone who, when we were growing up, was very special to me, but whom I have not spoken with in almost 44 years.  Only two years apart, when we visited each other’s families (our dads were brothers), we immediately found fun things to do, things we always had in common.  But he went to college and I finished high school and we were separated by many miles and life experiences and so here it is 44 years later and he has contacted me through Linkedin of all things, to let me know his mother had passed and he would like to talk to me.  

To say I’m a bit nervous is a bit of an understatement.  And a bit sad.  His mom, my aunt, was one of the sweetest, most kind people I’ve ever known.  I always had this little fantasy that maybe one day I could go live with them and she could be my mom.  The last visit I had with her was when I was in college marching band and we traveled to Maryland for a game where they met us.  During our free time, I visited them and Aunt Carol took me shopping, but the thing I remember the most was that before we crossed a street she held my hand.  I was 19.  Nobody had held my hand to walk across the street in a long time.  

She was a lovely lady, the epitome of class, dressed to the nines, usually in a skirt and heels to make breakfast for everyone.  I WANTED  to make my bed for her when I visited because she made me feel special.  Silver and china were set on the table and we would have to clean up together afterwards before we could go out and do something.  Always with a smile on her face and with a great sense of humor.  Now, I’m sure there were times when this wasn’t true – she was a mom to two boys – great boys – but I’m sure she had to be MOM sometimes.  But to me she was that perfect TV mom, almost too good to be true.

So in a little while we’ll be landing in Ft. Lauderdale where we’ll get the rental car, drive to the hotel, grab a bite and wait for a phone call.  A phone call that I hope may reignite a wonderful long lost relationship and begin creating some new memories.  

Alliterations – don’t you love them?  Today was full of them, this particular title created by my friend Michele as we and our friend Ila Jean drove through central Nebraska to wine country.  Yes, you heard me right – wine country.  You’ve heard of Silicon Valley, right?  Well, we’re the Silicon Prairie, so of course, there must be wineries to go with.  Not like they’re all great wines, but these are beautiful little places in or outside of pretty little towns, the epitome of American small businesses.  I did happen to taste a few nice wines on our little winery trip today and some not so impressive, but all created with great pride by their owners.  One even tasted a bit like Kool-aid which, when I thought about it later,  only made sense because after all, we were just down the road from the town where Kool-Aid was invented.

We had planned to go further west (another “w”), but unfortunately they were hit with 8-11 inches of rain, so in the middle of July in the middle of the Great American Desert, these poor towns and farms are flooded.  It has been a year for that for sure in Nebraska and I’m betting nobody is reporting it on the national news because it’s, well, Nebraska.  So we decided to avoid the flooding and instead had a lovely lunch and wine tasting in St. Paul after which, looking for some time to kill, went to a new little distillery to take a “tour” of their operation.  It consisted of one room about the size of our apartment (higher ceilings of course) and a gentlemen who reminded me of the teacher in Ferris Bueller giving a demonstration of how you put a couple of big bags of ingredients into what was essentially a big vat and he let us look inside.  He corrected me very quickly when I said it smelled like corn because, well, there was no corn in it yet.  Doesn’t mean it didn’t smell like corn.  I could have explained to him why what he was calling bourbon wasn’t really bourbon but I didn’t want to call him out in his own establishment.

So after that interesting 10 minute tour, we decided to stop in the lovely tiny, tiny, tiny, town of Worms, Nebraska home of the infamous Nightcrawlers Bar.  Seriously, how can you pass up this kind of thing?  I love hanging out with people who when I say, “oh, we’ve GOT to go there!” say “ok!” and we go.  Thanks to Google, I found out that had a very interesting history with immigrants linked to Worms, Germany.  I also found out that its inhabitants have not been included in a census.  I’m thinking “Children of the Corn” right about now.  So after a few selfies in from of the closed bar, we hopped back in the car and headed for Central City.

The population of Central City being only 3,000 might make you think that there’s not much there but there’s something about the pretty little houses and flower gardens, the parks and pools, little mom and pop restaurants that make this little place enticing.  We walked into the restaurant/tasting room where the older building had been completely gutted and were surprised to see a very modern industrial look, complete with a lounging area upstairs, a bar and various seating areas.  The cost for my 1/2 price appetizer, glass of wine and a Diet Coke (I was thirsty, ok?) came up to a whopping $9.00 dollars.  Just like our lunch/wine tasting in St. Paul which was a ginormous $13.00.  These small towns give you unique beautiful scenery, good food and wine at a wonderfully relaxed pace. Literally, take all the time you want to take in the scenery, share stories with friends and breathe.  I needed that.

The day ended as I drove home from my friend’s house in Seward on a two lane highway with the music blaring and the top down for some wind therapy .  The car’s top, not mine.  That would just be scary.  Anyway, it was an adventurous day, full of great friends, wine, worms and wind.  Here’s wishing you an alliteration of your own this summer.

 

 

“You must be glad football season is over” is what I hear every year from those wonderful friends of mine who know what my husband does for a living.  Oh no, he’s not a coach, unless you want to refer to him as a band coach.  What my husband does for a living, what he has done for his entire 37 year career, is direct bands.

We’re not just talking marching band.  No, we’re talking about beginning, high school, college, marching, athletic, campus, concert and symphonic bands.  He did a VERY short stint teaching elementary general music (my realm of relative expertise) while serving as an assistant high school director, and survived, but other than than it has been band. So here we are, beginning year 38 and once again I am in what I affectionately call “band widow” season.

To say I knew what I was getting into marrying a future band director is like saying I knew what I was getting into when I decided to become a teacher.  It’s not until you’re in the middle of it that you start to go ohhhhh….  So for those of you who also think you know what this is all about, like I thought I did, here’s the rundown of a typical year in the life.

Most people start their year in January I suppose, but in the world of education, we start in August.  Unless you’re a band director and then you start in June or July.  No, maybe that’s April – but I digress.  Okay, to clarify, he’s contacting high school director clients in early spring to see if they need his drill writing services in the summer. This year I think he has ten clients.  I say I “think” because I’m not sure HE knows how many he has.  As soon as he knows the music they’re playing and number of students they’re going to have, he begins phrasing the tunes and sketching forms, which translates to what he calls “dots” or people on the field.  He then decides how and where the dots are going to move to the music within the phrases, dictated by what the music tells him.  Quite the creative process which he loves.  Also time consuming.  There’s a LOT of time spent behind closed doors in front of a computer.

So, by the time we’re to August, he’s trying to finish shows for the high school clients and he begins thinking about his college gig.  Towards the middle of the month, right before band camp, he’ll have numbers, instrumentation, musical themes for each show (usually 6-8) and begin teaching pregame.  The fall then becomes a blur of creation, finishing up high school shows and writing sometimes weekly, sometimes bi-weekly shows for a 300 piece college marching band.  At the same time, there is the pep band to deal with who plays for volleyball games during the early football season and for basketball in the late football season.  There are several bands and subs to deal with when scheduling these. Did I fail to mention time for rehearsals?  As you can imagine, “Drill Amnesty Day”, the day when all the drill writing has been completed for the year, becomes a big deal.

Division football games and bowl games can take the season into January where now basketball is in full swing, along with campus band two nights a week.  Once football ends, it can be anywhere from 1-3 basketball games a week, at whatever time the athletic types decide.  Basketball goes until March where he gets to juggle men’s and women’s tournaments and possible NCAA or NIT bids which, for those of you who don’t know, are decided at the last minute and band directors must have rosters of kids ready (only 29 per pep band) who must be at games (per NCAA rules) before they even know if they’re in.  Oh, and did I fail to mention that these kids are doing midterms?  Which means that during the lull between games, my band director is proctoring individual exams for students with strict instructions from picky professors who aren’t happy that their students like to play music.  Oh well.

So, we’re back to early spring where the cycle begins again.  Of course, this isn’t all he does you know.  He is also a lecturer at the University, which means he teaches marching band techniques and a drill writing class, attends staff meetings, faculty meetings and college meetings.  Oh, and he supervises practicum and student teachers in music education which means 4-5 visits per student each semester and tons of documentation.  Oh, and did I mention recruiting trips?  These start about January and go through April.  And I haven’t even mentioned concerts.

On top of the “usual” which I’ve just mentioned, sometimes there are things like, homecoming parades, special requests for the 150th birthday celebration of the university (you HAVE to have the band), train tours of the state with the major athletic coaches, trips to the state fair, marching at the state high school marching band contest, the occasional requests for the pep band at baseball games and gymnastic meets (I’m not kidding)…. are you tired yet?

So, as I watch him pack his lunch and his back pack today in preparation to work high school band camp at the University this week with the same enthusiasm he usually has, I think about those well meaning friends who ask about the end of football season.  No, we’ve only just begun.  Again.

 

The decision has been made, I’m reading the  how-to books, making the plans, sitting at the computer when the voices begin.

“What makes you think you can write a book?”

“Nobody will ever read it, except maybe your friends and it’s only because they like you.”

“No publisher will ever take it seriously.”

It’s a downer for sure.  The problem with being creative is that most of us try to attach value to it – the creation is either good or bad, when in truth it just “is”.  We try to attach a name to the voices or “tapes”.  Sometimes it’s the voice of someone from your past who had this amazing knack for knocking you down a notch or two with just a few choice words, or maybe it’s the voice of evil who never wants to see you succeed and for sure, doesn’t want to see you give credit to the ultimate Creator.  So these voices swirl around in your psyche, attempting to convince you that you are not good enough, you are not talented enough, you are not smart enough, you are not enough – period.

So whatever it is you are wanting to do, to attempt, to create, you must be really driven to do, willing to do whatever it takes, ignoring or pushing against those voices.  It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.  It’s why it’s so important to surround yourself with family, friends and colleagues that will encourage yet tell you truth along the journey.

There are actually times when I have spoken out loud to these voices, hopefully not in a scary way, but sometimes I have to hear my own voice.  “I know I can do this, I’m not listening to you, go away and leave me alone”.  I spent a little time doing that this week as I was digging in to do the heavy work necessary to choose and organize my blogs in some kind of order, an on-going process.  As I struggled with the idea of writing in traditional chapters, the voices started – “see, it’s too hard for you – you should give up”.  Then I talked with my son who suggested I think about doing essays, organized by subject or focus.  He then brought me some examples he had in his library (it’s extensive) for me to look at.  The voices had been beaten for now and my enthusiasm was restored.

However, the voices aren’t just negative, they also slyly give you reasons to just wait or cop out.  “Sure you’re overweight, but that’s who you are right now.  Maybe you can do something about it later”.  The voices give you excuses, reasons to settle for less, “logical” reasons why now just won’t work.  Even if you feel something in your gut that tells you that NOW is the time and you can do this, the voices can very sensibly tell you that it’s just not the right time because of finances, job, or any number of rational circumstances.  It’s like having children however;  if you wait for just the right time to jump into something you really feel drawn to do, you’ll never do it.

So tonight I’m feeling pretty satisfied.  Despite the voice’s attempts to stop me this week, the first draft of the introduction has been written, the blogs have been read and re-read, and put into preliminary groups, index cards are prepared so that I can start playing with order.  The goal tomorrow is to put the cards in some kind of order.

There’s much more to do but it’s worth it because I’ve been working on this in my head for years, have been writing the blog for two years and now it’s time to write the book.  For those of you who have been contemplating doing something new, something that brings you joy, something that you just can’t keep from doing, DO IT and be prepared for the voices that are bound to come.  But voices are just voices.  Ignore them and follow your dream.

 

 

Whatever happened to tact?  I just addressed a question on social media for a teacher who shared an experience where a person in authority completely insulted her teaching in front of someone, apparently without blinking an eye.  Of course, I’m only seeing this from the teacher’s perspective, but whatever this person in authority said, it has devastated her.  And while it may have been true, not knowing the whole story, it was HOW it was said that is in question here.

I have the opportunity to work with a lot of student and practicum teachers who come to me with a variety of experience (or lack of) and personalities.   I need to be honest with them in the short amount of time I have to work with them, but what I don’t need to do is discourage them.  What comes into play here is my choice of words and HOW I say them.  Now, I have to insert a caveat here – I have had a couple of student teachers where after several attempts at being tactful, I had to look them in the eye and just say what I needed to say in order to get my point across, but this is after I had tried in any other way I could think of.  Sometimes you need to get brutally honest with someone to keep them safe or help them to understand the importance of a behavior or issue.  Most of the time, however, I consider it my job to decide the best way to teach or guide through the right words.

Part of the problem I believe is that we’ve become a very “informal” society.  What I mean by that is that communication in general lacks thought, editing, professionalism and sometimes words – IMHO.  You should see a couple of introductory emails I’ve received from young college students. Anyway, it’s easy to be more “honest” when using informal language.  It’s when we take time and thought in using our words that we can still mean what we say, can still be honest, and yet our words can be less hurtful, more tactful, more respectful, and more constructive.

In the not too distant past, historically speaking, even people who completely disagreed with one another, would still use language that was respectful.  When I share the story of the National Anthem with my students and we talk about the War of 1812 and how  ranking officers of each side spoke respectfully to each other, my kids are flabbergasted.  “But they’re enemies!”  Well, in those days, even if you were on opposite sides, there were rules and part of those rules included how you spoke to people.  Think about it.  You’re already on opposite sides of an issue with someone – it doesn’t make things better to speak to them in a tactless or disrespectful manner, does it?

The perfect example of this hits us in the face every day in the news and on social media.  People who are supposed to be in positions of leadership, speaking in tactless, hurtful, disrespectful and non-constructive ways to and about those they disagree with.  Well, no wonder nobody is willing to talk or compromise on anything!  There are reasons that sayings like “you catch more flies with honey than vinegar” are true.   You may not like the flies, or agree with the flies, but if you have to work with the flies, you might as well use honey – it will get you farther in the communications department.  Somehow in our society we’ve completely lost that truth. Very seldom have I found that my anger over an issue helps the situation but when I wait and think about my words and speak as tactfully and respectfully as I can, minds and hearts can be changed.

Social media however, in my opinion is the worst because it can be so anonymous.  What someone would never say to someone’s face, is acceptable on social media.  I have some wonderful, highly intellectual friends whom I have rarely heard say an unkind word in public say the most awful things on social media.  Name calling, profanity, atrocious comparisons to horrific people and situations in history.  The worst are those who use their intellect to insult with witty, caustic, multisyllabic words, perhaps to make those not as intellectual feel stupid.  It not only causes them to lose credibility with me, but it causes great sadness.  These are not clueless people – they are highly intelligent, usually very kind and caring people – as long as they agree with the person they’re being kind to it seems.

So here’s the kicker.  Being so “honest” in this way does one of two things.  It either creates more anger and therefore further alienates people or it causes some of us who are introverts by nature to shut down, afraid to say what we think because of the  viciousness of the response or reception we might receive.  After all, we’ve seen that response towards others.  I’ve spoken to many friends and colleagues who feel this way which is such a shame.  After all, nothing gets accomplished, nothing improves, nothing changes, if we can’t have dialogue, and those who bully their way through communication in the name of being honest are destroying the process.

So, what is the answer?  What do we do to fix this? Being honest is crucial if you want to be trusted and is an essential building block for great relationships, as long as it is done the right way.  Like anything else, it happens one person at a time.  One person who is willing to think, take their time in choosing words wisely and working to be honest through kindness and respect.  “Honest” dialogue in today’s culture is obviously not working. You don’t always have to agree with someone, but it’s important that you respect their journey, the reasons they have arrived at their opinions.  Through honest but tactful conversation, it is possible to come to consensus,  to compromise and yes, perhaps even agree.

 

In the sixth grade, there was this teacher, whose name escapes me, who would begin her class every day by reading a chapter from a book to us.  Pippi Longstockings was the one I remember most clearly and every day she would leave us dangling at the end of the chapter with “that’s it until tomorrow”.  Ugh!!  I wanted to hear what happened next!  It was a powerful mix of anticipation and imagination that was stirred in me every day through a simple story.

Maybe I’m just a nerd, but school was like that for me.  What are we going to do next? I must have had some great teachers.  Even those subjects that were routine, like a new spelling list where you had to write the words so many times and write them in a sentence and define them, still meant they were NEW WORDS.  So yes, there is certainly a place for routine in life, but there needs to be the promise of a new adventure that keeps you looking forward to what is coming next.

It struck me yesterday as we were finalizing the details for our vacation that I was feeling that sense of anticipation again.  Sure, we know how we were getting there and  where we are staying, but the adventure is in the unknown details of each day during the trip.  It’s knowing just enough that makes you want to know more.  The possibility of a new adventure is a shot in the arm for sure.

I often wonder if we leave room for anticipation for kids today, in life and in education.  Sure, if they’re young enough, EVERYTHING is an adventure, (just watch a class full of Kindergarteners : ) but even then, adults can be quick to squelch that adventure, all with the best of intentions.  For families it may be in the name of safety or wanting to protect the child.  For educators, it may be in the name of classroom management or making sure that every child has the opportunity to to experience the same content.  However, sometimes, lessons are best learned when we let go and allow the excitement of anticipation to push the desire for learning.  Don’t give them all the answers.  Let their natural curiosity lead the way to learning.  Nothing teaches life lessons better than trial and error.

This is why one of the things I feel strongly about in terms of technology use by kids.  Don’t you wonder if the use of technology takes all the wonder and curiosity out of everything? There’s not a chance of a figuring something out for themselves because Siri, Alexa and Google know all.  How do we take something apart and rebuild it?  We go to YouTube and follow the directions.  There is no exploration, mystery or adventure.  It’s actually a little sad.

Of course this sense of adventure can get one into trouble.  I’m pretty sure I could write an entire book on the mishaps my boys got themselves into, all in the name of adventure, but those are also the things they remember when they talk and laugh about their childhood together.  Chances are I don’t want to know ALL the details – they survived after all – but all three of them remain curious about life and look forward with anticipation to their next adventure.

Adventures aren’t always safe.  Adventures can be scary.  Like getting lost on a New York subway or being stuck by yourself in an airport not knowing when you’ll get where you’re supposed to be going.  But adventures can also be life changing and miraculous.  The discovery of beautiful scenery you never would have experienced if you hadn’t gone the wrong way or meeting new people who change you in some way.  Being in just the right place at just the right time when you never planned it that way.

As I was thinking about this, something came to mind that was like a slap in the face.  Many times in my own classroom, my students walk in and ask (to the point of making me crazy), “what are we doing today?  Are we going to do (blank) or (blank)?  Can we do (blank)?”  Like I’m doing song requests for them on the radio.  Did I just date myself?  Anyway, I find myself getting irritated because I just need to get into my lesson, so I stop all the questions with the my own question “do you guys ask your other teachers these questions?”  To which they respond, “no”.  That should have been the big hint for me there.  They’re excited to know what the adventure is going to be in music and rather than encouraging that excitement and anticipation, I try to squelch it in the name of time management and being a “responsible” teacher.  Shame on me!  Of all classes, music should be the most open to adventures and getting kids excited about learning.

What is life without adventure and mystery?  What is life without anticipation and imagination?  Do my students enter my room in anticipation or dread?  Am I filled with anticipation or dread when I enter my classroom?  I’m thinking this needs to be a personal and professional goal for me this year of school.  Life is too short to not have things to look forward to, adventures to anticipate and new things to learn.

What exactly is the measure of success?  Is it the American Dream of the college degree, making 6 figures, owning your own home in the perfect neighborhood, and raising 2.5 children within your little nuclear family?  Is it recognition for the work you’ve done or for the goals you’ve achieved?  Is success measured by you or do you allow others to judge you based on their perception of what success means to them?

I found several definitions of success.  First, it’s the accomplishment of an aim or purpose. Secondly, it’s the attainment of popularity or profit.  Success can also be the person who does what is described in the first two definitions, as in, “he is a success”.  I may be wrong, but it seems to me like a lot of people in our society judge success by the second definition.  Does the name “Kardashian” ring a bell?

In my world, I am surrounded by college graduates.  I am a college graduate. Education is important.  Many of these people have what are referred to as “terminal degrees”, in order to attain the type of position they desire.  Our society values people who attain these pieces of paper as the pinnacle of our educational system.  These are usually highly intelligent people (or people who jump through hoops well) and therefore should be respected.  Well, that’s  great and all, but I’ve met plenty of PhD’s (none of my friends of course!) who don’t have a practical/sensible bone in their body.  They’re so removed from real life that they have difficulty functioning outside of their cerebral, academic world.  Having these degrees doesn’t necessarily make them kinder, more empathetic, or more receptive to their students.  These attributes can belong to anyone, not just to academics, and who’s to say which is more successful – the person with the degree with no empathy or the person with empathy and no degree?

What if what you want to do in life requires no degree?  Are you a less successful person because of it?  After all, having a degree doesn’t make you a better person.  I have met more people who love doing service jobs, working with their hands, managing people, working outside and when they are in their element they are a joy to meet.  These are people who are the lifeblood of our society, the ones who keep things running, who work long hours for little pay with a smile on their face.  Those of us in academia tend to think, oh, they could do so much more for themselves if they could go back to school, but what if they don’t want or need to?  Not everyone is an academic.  Doesn’t mean they aren’t smart, they’re just a different kind of smart.

Howard Gardner is  theorist who believes that there are many different kinds of “smart” or multiple intelligences.  In our public schools today, if you don’t excel at either math (logical/mathematical) or reading  (verbal/linguistic) you might as well hang it up because it’s just about all you’re going to do.  And for those kids whose “smarts” do not fall into those two categories, many times they aren’t considered successful.  But a society cannot survive with only its literary and math smart people, it takes a literal village of people with different gifts, passions and skills or “smarts” for a society to succeed.  For those of you who aren’t nerds like myself, the multiple intelligences are –

• Musical/rhythmic
• Visual-spatial
• Verbal-linguistic
• Logical-mathematical
• Bodily-kinesthetic
• Interpersonal
• Intrapersonal
• Naturalistic
• Existential

As teachers, we’ve all met those students who struggle to read but their kinesthetic abilities are magic, and yet, we discount that gift because it’s not “academic”.  We also know those students who struggle behaviorally and yet they sparkle in art or music.  I have one student right now who has struggles with both and this past year I watched as he was the only person to develop a real relationship with a special needs student in his class.  The first time I saw the two of them together, I almost cried. Unfortunately, these don’t count because they’re not considered “academic”. If we can’t assess the student’s ability within a subject using percentages, or if the student’s percentages are low, as a society, and unfortunately, many times in education, we consider them unsuccessful or at the very least, not achieving.

So let’s go back to the original definition, the accomplishment of an aim or purpose, this time focusing on the word purpose.  This one goes right back to our gifts, passions or intelligences.  It leads us to the deeper discussion of why we’re here in the first place, and whether you want to think about this through a scientific or faith based lens, we all want, we NEED to have a purpose to be personally fulfilled and find our place in the world.   Unfortunately if that purpose doesn’t fit our neat and tidy vision of success we can cause someone to feel like a complete failure.

I have a dear friend, one that I admire greatly who has worked in the schools for many years, not labeled a “teacher”, but certainly a teacher in the way she interacts with special needs children and adults.  There is an ease with which she deals with the day in a day out struggles with some of these individuals who need extra help. I didn’t say it was easy, but she deals with whatever comes her way with grace and kindness.  Do the people she works with care if she has a degree or not?  No.  I believe all they see is there is someone who genuinely cares and will be there for them.  In her case, her success is immeasurable because taking care of others is one of the highest callings.

So many of our students are square pegs who don’t fit into the round holes of academia   and while they may work to adapt, are they really using their strengths to everyone’s  benefit?  Isn’t it time to redefine the idea of success in our schools and in our society and honor all those who follow their passion as a success in life?

 

The title Band Director may evoke many names. Perhaps John Phillip Sousa or Prof. Harold Hill come to mind.  Maybe you’re a band director’s wife and other names come to mind.  But that’s another blog for another day.  But maybe you remember, with fond memories, the work, the camaraderie, the spirit that is band and the person that made it all come to life for you personally.  For me, that was J. Larry Moore.

Before we get to Larry, let’s talk about band, and in particular, marching band.  While Mr. Moore had an excellent concert band (at least I like to think so), it was marching band where much of his innovative efforts stuck out.  It was marching band that for me, and I believe for most band members, where that feeling of camaraderie was developed. There’s something about working outside in a wide variety of elements, none of which were ever bad enough to cancel a rehearsal, traveling together, eating together, socializing together that created much more than a band, it created a family.  And Larry was the father of that family.

You see, it was about much more than the music.  Don’t get me wrong, the music was important – REALLY important.  But just as important was teaching accountability, commitment, personal responsibility, work ethic and great attitude.  Like any great father, Larry let us know when we did well and also let us know, in no uncertain terms, when we screwed up.  And while in the moment it may have been embarrassing, it was a lesson for a lifetime.

When others in my profession, those wonderful colleagues I work with in my day job and in my work with the National Association for Music Education, share some not so complimentary remarks about the “good old boys club” and how band directors tend to band together away from other music educators (pun intended), I get it.  I really do. It’s difficult to get those in band education to collaborate with other areas of music education which upsets me a bit and yet I understand why it happens.  Others, even in music education, are just not a part of the family.

My son joined the army after 9/11 and not long after, he was sent to Afghanistan.  When he came home, he had changed and he had joined another family – his army family.  No matter where he goes, because he knows these men and women have experienced the same things he did, he is able to get into conversations, give a hug, a handshake or a pat on the back because these people, this FAMILY, understands.  And while the experiences a band family has are not as traumatic, it is because of intense, emotional, shared experiences, we too can meet someone else from anywhere in the country who participated in this art form and we immediately understand each other.

A little over a week ago, a group of us, former students, colleagues, friends and family, gathered together to honor our “father” for the work he did, not only to make music with us, but for his work to make us better people.  I spoke to several friends who shared that they helped put this concert together, complete with a piece commissioned just for him just because it was Larry and we owe him so much.  While he didn’t stay in the profession long after I graduated, his legacy lives on through his next chapter where he is a successful fundraiser for – you guessed it – bands.  He still continues to preach working together, loyalty, and hard work, even though in today’s world it may not be considered very PC.

I’ve been fortunate in my lifetime to participate in this art form, working with not only my band director, but my husband, who is also a band director and many great friends and colleagues, also band directors.  We can sit together at a conference and not know each other at all, but when we start talking band and band directors, we’re immediately family, with those shared experiences that quickly bring us together as lifelong friends.

If I were to create a portrait of a band director, it would be a person who is selfless, who gives his time, talent and resources for students, who teaches not only music, but life skills necessary for people to work together and succeed in whatever path they choose to take.  They sacrifice other things dear to them – sometimes their own families, because their passion for the music, the art form and the students is so intense.  Some say that band directors tend to be all about themselves and their program, and yes, I’m sure some of them are.  I believe most are like my band director, who at age 80 continues to love band and his “children”.

 

 

 

The concept of “life” is interesting, isn’t it?  You’re born into circumstances you have no control over, you spend the rest of your time here trying to make sense of it all and regain some sense of control, and when it’s your time, once again out of your control, you die.  I’m sure there are a lot of people out there who rightfully wonder, what’s the point?

Seriously, what’s the point?  There is so much suffering in the world, so much violence, so much anger, so many people out for themselves. Can we do anything to negate the negativity we see in our world? Sure, you and I are good people and we try to do our best but what is our purpose in the world and can we make a real difference?  I’m beginning to see that if we listen and look closely enough, our purpose will find us and yes, whether it’s on a tiny or grand scale, we can make a difference.

Sometimes that purpose comes from a place of love and comfort. For instance, one of the reasons I advocate for music education is because I know what a difference it made in my life and the lives of others. However, I think there can be more of a purpose in those things that cause us pain and heartache.  It’s losing a loved one that inspires us to write a book to help others.  It’s the experience of having a preemie that inspires us to volunteer to hold premature babies in a hospital.  It’s experiencing poverty that drives us to help others in that same situation. It’s the experience of an unhappy childhood that inspires us to advocate for children.  That would mean, the point is to help others who are going through life events that we have experienced and survived.

I found myself speaking to a congressman’s aide the other day about why I believe with my whole heart that music is important for every child.  I don’t always have the numbers to prove my point, and I understand that providing music for every child isn’t on the same level as say, feeding the hungry, but for some children, those who struggle in school, those who think of dropping out of school, those who need an expressive outlet or a place to be themselves, music is their salvation.  How do I know?  Because it was both literally and figuratively my salvation.  And the thing about humans is, if I’m in need of this, so are others and it’s my job, my duty, my purpose to advocate for those kids who NEED music in their lives.  And providing access to all kids guarantees that those who really need it will get it.

So, what is the point?  The point is not to just live and die but perhaps to live for others and die to ourselves by fulfilling our purpose here.  And my purpose, the point of my being here is to advocate for children through music education.  Maybe we stop asking “what’s the point” and start asking “what’s my purpose”.

My heart went out to the poor guy.  He was already in the minority with his wife and two daughters and now his wife was questioning him out loud, certain that he wasn’t doing what she was telling him to do because she NEVER makes this mistake.  She actually said that. The entire line of passengers was stopped behind her because she was questioning their tickets, which put two of them on one side of the aisle and  two on the other side.  He never yelled or retaliated, merely stating what he had already stated several times already.  He didn’t have a ticket for 33C.

I know he didn’t because I had it.  I had already let their daughters in to sit by the window and was ready to sit down but she kept questioning.  She then told me I could move and sit with with my “friend” across the aisle and then she could sit with her teenage daughters.  Two things here; I was traveling by myself and she TOLD me I could move.  Not cool.  So I informed her that I was traveling alone while the other woman (also traveling alone) on the other side of the aisle had not said a word or moved, waiting for this perturbed woman to get over it.  We won out.

People who think they are never wrong make me crazy because I’m wrong a LOT.  Oh, I’m right some too, but like all imperfect human beings, I can be really wrong.  And after I smack myself around a little bit for being stupid, talking myself off the ledge because after all, everyone makes mistakes, I then find the other party and apologize.  It’s what you do.

There were other interesting stories at the airport yesterday.  I watched two young families where the fathers were fully engaged with their children.  This shouldn’t be so unusual, but I HAVE seen dads who sat and watched a movie on their phone or played games while mom juggled one or more children. These dads, on the other hand, each took care of making sure kids were fed, had things to do, and talked to them.  I watched one young dad reassure his wife who was looking a little more frazzled each time their toddler let out a piercing scream on the plane and they worked together to take care of the situation.  Dads who carried all kinds of baby stuff, car seats, backpacks with superheroes and unicorns on them and still focused on making sure the little guy made it up the jetway. Wonderful examples of how a family should function together. Not perfect, maybe not always right, but working together in a kind, loving way.

I also saw some interesting clothing choices.  After all, what is going to an airport but an extreme form of people watching?  Most people dress for comfort while traveling, but some seem to dress in a more eye opening way.  In a line for the women’s bathroom, I noticed a beautiful young woman in front of me wearing what I would describe as a Kim Kardashian type “catsuit”.  It left nothing to the imagination, covering just enough to be decent and it fit like a second skin.  My first thought was frankly, WOW.  My second thought was, are they going to let her on the plane in that?  But then, as I watched her constantly look at herself in the mirror she was standing next too, I noticed she didn’t seem to have any joy in her appearance.  Her seemingly critical eye kept looking at herself, and as beautiful as she was, she didn’t seem happy with what she saw.  My next thought was, how sad.  Not to presume, but I think most of us know what a young woman looks like when she feels good about herself and this just seemed different.  The mom in me just wanted to give her a hug, but I’m pretty sure that would be slightly creepy, so I’m glad I didn’t follow that instinct.

Have you noticed how many oblivious people there are looking at their phones in the airport?  They never look up, assuming, I suppose, that others of us will just look out for them and dodge out of their way.  So glad I’ve had experience teching marching band and have learned how to watch and dodge kids with instruments!  But for every oblivious person, there is another person looking out for others, finding ways to help someone with a suitcase, assisting an older person or hold something for a young mother who is juggling too much.  We were stuck on the tarmac in Atlanta yesterday afternoon due to storms and yet, the flight attendants kept smiling, and everyone else was calm and kind.  After all, life happens, right?

The great thing about people watching is, while there may be those people who REALLY want seat 33C and for the moment, it is all about them, there are so many other people who are patient, kind,  and caring.  It was a week of kind and caring for me, from my exhausted brother who got up on a Sunday morning to join me for breakfast, to old friends at a concert to honor a great teacher, to Uber drivers, airport workers and hotel staff who greeted everyone with a smile, to friends and colleagues who shared, taught, listened and hugged.  Life is good if we just people watch.