Memorial Stadium is a magical place.  It’s amazing that we as a human race have figured out how to stuff 90,000 plus people in one relatively small space.  The secret is going higher and not wider, which means steps.  Lots and lots and lots of steps.  Steps that I have down to a fine art because I have had to navigate them now for many years.  A fine art that was completely shut down yesterday, thanks to one 10 year old boy.

I love this little boy, but he has not been privy to my little routine.  For the band rehearsal I climb up the steps to sit near Doug and stay there. For the game my usual is to take the steps up to my gate, take the steps up to my level, take a few steps up to my row and stay there.  After half time, I go down all those same steps, walk around a quarter of the stadium, go down more steps and hang out with the band.  My knees aren’t crazy about steps, especially going up, so I try to avoid them whenever possible.

Yesterday started great, as I took him to rehearsal where he beat me big time going up the steps to sit near grandpa.  After rehearsal and lunch, we went to the student union (more steps) to buy some Husker gear for him and then back to the stadium.  So far I was able to keep him within my routine.  But then he wanted snacks.  It was about the middle of the first quarter and he wanted something else to eat, despite that fact that he had inhaled a half pound double cheeseburger only 3 hours before that.  The concession stand was right around the corner and down the ramp from our seats and he talked me into letting go my himself.  Stupid move on my part.

After sitting there waiting for what seemed an eternity, and with all of the other people around me looking for him to come back, I finally see him but can’t get his attention and he’s looking a little freaked out because he can’t see me (the problem with being height impaired).  So, I’m climbing over all of the people in a frantic rush to get to him before he goes further up the steps.  Now, I am not a small woman and I’m grateful that people were so kind because I really didn’t care who I was hanging onto or who I stepped on at that point.  I got his attention and we both climbed back over all of those kind people to get to our seats.  The experience was pretty nerve racking for him and, overwhelmed by that, the noise and all of the people, he decided he would rather hang out with grandpa and the band.  You know what happens next.

So, around the stadium and up the steps to the ramp and down the steps to the band and I’m thinking, ok, this will work.  It’s almost half time and we’ll just sit up in the band seats to watch halftime and hang out.  Then, as he’s sitting on the ground, eating that well earned pizza slice with his Pepsi, he starts frantically looking in his pockets for something.  He looks up at me with panic in his eyes and so I ask him what’s up.  He has lost his little camera, the one he has been so proud of and has been sharing with EVERYONE (and I mean EVERYONE) this whole day.  On the verge of tears, he says he wants to go back to our seats to find it, hoping nobody has stolen it.  I reassure him that we were surrounded by great people and nobody was going to steal his camera. and so off we go.

Up the steps, down the ramp, down the steps, around the stadium, up the steps, around the corner, up the ramp, up the steps to our row.  I reassure the people at the end of the row that I am NOT going to step on them again and they laugh.  Nice people.  My grandson pushes his way through the fans, comes back triumphant and we go back.  Down the steps, down the ramp, around the corner, down the steps, around the stadium, up the steps, up the ramp, down the steps and back to the band, just in time to go up the steps to find a row to sit in for halftime.

By this time, my knees have had enough and I’ll be honest, when he said he was tired and wanted to go home, I didn’t hesitate.  One final walk down steps and up a ramp and we were out, back the car where he put the top down for the drive home.  Finally, no more steps.  As we drove home, I thought of how this felt a lot like having my own kids again.  As an empty nester, all I have to do it think of myself and my comfort. Having kids, as much fun as it can be, is also full of discomfort, inconvenience, sadness, fear, guilt, and and the focus shifts completely to them and not me.

Just like walking those physical steps, it takes many tiny steps to learn to be a parent and take care of children.  Steps that may be difficult, but totally worth it in the end, especially when you get a hug, thanking you for going back through all of those steps just for them.

 

“We need to put a beach right there”, she said, pointing to a grassy area near the school.  “Lots of sand and beach chairs!”.  The 4th grader and I stood outside together at recess in the cold drizzle under my umbrella, talking about her dream for the space.  “And we could have those big umbrellas and put an all-you-can-eat doughnut bar over there”.  This is my kind of kid.

You just never know what is going to happen when a kid stops to talk with you.  “May you do the floss please?”  Yes, you read that right.  I have this one kid who is insisting I do the floss for him and he knows I insist on “may I” when asking permission for something, so I appreciate the effort, even if the words are a bit out of order.  As for the floss, as much as I hate it, I’m going to learn it this weekend to get this kid off of my back.

“Mrs. Bush, I need a favor”.  Yes.  “Well, I’ve decided I want to be on America’s Got Talent and I need you to help me write an original song and probably get a trumpet and a violin and some other things to play for it”.  So I ask, how much money do you have to pay the musicians?  She looks at me a little sideways.  “What do you mean, pay them?”  Well, musicians don’t just play their instruments for fun – they do this for a living.  Maybe you could put something on Garage Band instead.  “Well, you will help me write a song, right?”  Sure. You write some words and I’ll show you how to put it to a melody.  I think she’s rethinking the American’s Got Talent thing.

Imagination is one of the things I’ve always loved about children, but in the last ten years or so, I’ve seen it begin to disappear.  Kids seem unable to pretend as much as they used to and so everything is very literal.  In the old days, if the kids wanted to create a chair to be part of something they were acting out, they created one out of people or other items.  Now they go directly for the chair.  Oh sure, every once in a while I still see that spark where a student thinks of something so out of the box that it catches me by surprise, but again, not as often as I used to.

So, what has caused that?  Is it more screen time?  Not enough free play?  Adults doing all the thinking for them?  Maybe a combination of all of those things.  I don’t know.  I’m figuring out this is one of the curses of getting older.  You see these things happening or patterns of behavior changing over a period of time and those who are younger, who have no context from which to compare can’t see it at all.  What they see is what has always been to them.

Is there any real use to children pretending and dreaming?  Well, at one point I’m sure some kid said, I’m going to make an electric car!  And another kid said, imagine if we could have artificial intelligence all over the house to talk to.  And how cool would it be to have hover boards to ride through the neighborhood?  Somebody took some crazy dreams and ideas and created things that we take for granted today.  But without the creativity to dream of things that don’t exist, where will we go from here?

Here’s where I put in my two cents about the arts in schools, the one place where creativity is alive and encouraged, doing our best to help kids not be afraid to try new things to see what happens.  Allowing kids to think outside the box without telling them how things should be, where there is no black and white, no right or wrong.  A place where if you want to dream of an all-you can-eat  doughnut bar you can.

 

 

 

 

I learned an interesting lesson many years ago.   My husband and I were music leaders at our small church, a church where you knew everyone, as well as their their eccentricities and idiosyncrasies.  A new pastor had come to our church and the church quickly split into an “us vs them” mentality.  One group had started the church and wanted to maintain the status quo and those who had been drawn to the church by the new pastor wanted something different – and we were stuck in between. For some reason, people from both sides confided in us and we tried to play peacemakers for what seemed like an eternity.  Finally we had had enough.  We had stayed due to a feeling of commitment on our part, but it got to be too much.  As soon as we left, major changes happened, the new pastor stayed, the old guard left and a new church was born.

There have been other times in our lives and careers where we seemed to overstay our welcome, sometimes out of commitment, sometimes because it was just easier to deal with whatever, stay and make it work.  What would tend to happen is that things would just get worse and worse until we had no choice but to do something and in most if not all cases, where we ended up was better for all in the end.

I’ve figured out that sometimes God wants us to move and we’re too lazy to do anything about that, despite His hints to the contrary.  We get comfortable in our routine, our socio-economic status, the people we see every day and despite those things that happen that make us think we should make a change, we fight it.  Until things continue to get harder and unbearable enough to not want to deal with them anymore.

I spend a lot of time questioning myself when I feel this way.  Am I being over sensitive?  Did I overreact to something that was said?  Did I misinterpret something?  Or is this really a message that something new is on the horizon and I need to check into it?

Despite the fact that I am truly a “hummingbird”, once I find something comfortable, I tend to want to stay.  I really do want stability, but I may light from flower to flower within that stability to keep the interest alive.  This is why, in addition to trying to stay on top of music education, I work hard to keep up on “regular” ed.  I’ve taken Kagan workshops, gotten my certification to do Danielson evaluations, read up on Marzano, Gardner, and Archer, spoken on engagement at an ASCD international conference, been a part of the Whole Child Network, the Metropolitan Opera Education Conference and serve on a national board for music education.  My graduate credits include classes in administration and music education with a certification in Orff and classes that specialized in African and South American music.  I have served on gifted committees, school improvement and BIST/PBiS committees.  I have served on committees to evaluate schools, not just in music, but school wide.  I do these things so that I can better understand what is going on in the classroom to, in turn, better understand my kids.

But like other times in my life, I’m feeling hints again that maybe it’s time.  Time to begin work on something else, time to move on, time to set the record straight.  I’m not sure.  This is where being an introvert really sucks, for lack of a better word, because it takes a while to build up the courage to take a step.  But I’m not sure I want to wait until things become more uncomfortable before I make a decision.

This is not necessarily a bad thing.  I’ve also learned that sometimes we have to be made uncomfortable to take that next step.  It’s God little kick on the behind that says, I’m trying to tell you something, now listen.  And while it may be scary or take me in a new direction, He knows the way I should go and my job is to trust.

I had recently stalled in my plans to look into some new things because, well, I’m a little busy right now, but maybe this is the sign that I need to get back on track.  I’m discovering that I have a lot of encouragers in my life and they make me believe I can do just about anything. And in the meantime, I’ll get up in the morning, do my best to bring light into the lives of my kids through music and keep moving forward.

 

Sometimes I just need to write something to get it out of my head.  Thanks for reading and if it helps anyone, wonderful.

Family.  It’s a powerful word.  It brings forth images of smiling groups of people, multigenerational, sitting around tables brimming with food, sitting in front of warm fireplaces, playing games and laughing.  Family elicits strong emotions – joy, happiness, comfort.  Unless of course your family was nothing of those things I just described.  And if not, the last thing you want is for your colleagues or sometimes even your church to be described as “family”.

We talk about dysfunctional families, sometimes with a sense of humor, sometimes shaking our heads in disbelief at how people who are related could treat each other the way they do.  We look at kids at school who behave erratically and wonder what is going on at home.  I wonder how many of those kids have families so dysfunctional that from the outside things look very normal but on the inside it is everything but.  For me that’s scary dysfunctional.

In truly dysfunctional families, the missing ingredient is trust.  You never know what’s coming next, you never know if someone is going to leave you, you’re always waiting for the other shoe to drop.  You walk on eggshells all the time and learn to watch and interpret body language and behaviors like you life depends on it.  It’s a lifestyle that becomes part of your muscle memory and taints every relationship you have after that.

And then, God steps in and provides you with someone whose reality of family is just as described at the beginning.  A family so large and welcoming and loving that you can’t believe they’re real.  You keep looking for those signs you’ve always had to look for to stay safe and you can’t.  It’s an odd thing.  They’re not perfect, but are what you’ve always thought the definition of “family”, in the emotional sense, should be.  And yet, I still question my place in this wonderful family at times, not knowing what being part of a functional family should feel like.

It would be great if that translated to other groups, that “feeling” of family.  School communities sometimes describe themselves as families and every church I know describes itself as a church “family”, each of them a group of people brought together for a common purpose or goal, each of them trying to create that “feeling” of family among its members.  Forgetting completely that some members don’t want to have anything to do with family.  I certainly care about and may even love these people, I will work with and serve them, I will be professional, I will laugh at their jokes, share meals with them, but I’m afraid to make them a family because for me, family is not all its cracked up to be.

Some take offense at my attitude, as though I’ve insulted them by not wanting to be part of a “family”.  And their taking offense just reminds me of what family was in my past.  And sometimes responses like that have caused me to flashback to that uncertain childhood, recreating the emotional response and stress I lived with for what I remember of my life with family.  I’ve worked hard to get away from those triggers but once in a while something happens and sets it off and I became that ten year old child again.

I’m not one to be politely correct necessarily, although I try hard not to hurt or insult people intentionally and I certainly don’t want or need sympathy here or need anyone to tiptoe around me.  I live with and love a person who I know loves me unconditionally and it took me almost 30 years to get that.  I have children and now a grandchild, relatives, friends, and colleagues who are dear friends and who I know love and care for me.  And that’s enough.  I wouldn’t want to insult them by calling them my family.

Under the category of “you’ve got to be kidding me”, a news story caught my attention this afternoon by way of a cousin on social media.  The story  focused on support groups for parents who – here’s the “got to be kidding” part – needed help dealing with their kids playing Fortnite.  As in, how to tell their children when they can or can’t play and how to deal with them when they don’t listen to directions.  This blows my mind on so many levels.  Let’s discuss.

First, the technical definition of a parent is a mother or father.  Now I get that just having some unprotected hanky panky can produce mothers and fathers, and being a mother or father, while it is defined as so, doesn’t necessarily make you a parent.  I would like to extend the definition a bit further then.  A parent is someone who takes responsibility for raising a child to be a healthy, caring and productive citizen of the world.  Despite thoughts to the contrary, kids don’t just become this way through some kind of magical maturing process or osmosis.  This happens through watchful guidance, sometimes not the kind of guidance children want to hear or comply to.

I’m not saying that we need to go back to the dark ages in terms of child raising as in don’t speak unless spoken to, but the pendulum seems to have swung way over to the other side where adults, who are supposed to be parents, are trying to be friends instead.  The great thing to look forward to is that once your kids become adults, it is certainly possible to be friends, but as children, kids HAVE friends.  What they need is an adult who knows how to set and keep boundaries.

Secondly, the power of “no”.  This is not rocket science – no means no.  That is, unless you say no and theeennnn you change your mind when the child whines, complains or throws a hissy fit.  I didn’t say it was easy or pleasant to raise a child, but they’re not always going to be compliant when a parent says no to something.  I’ll admit, with my first child, especially if we were out in public and I said no and he proceeded to have a fit, I would do just about anything to get him quiet.  By the time the third one came around, I could go by any impulse buy section of any store and very calmly say no and that was it, no matter what they did.  It takes practice and fortitude but it is doable.  If it’s not good for them, just say no.

Lastly, you don’t have to be Attila the Hun to be a parent.  As a new parent, I used to yell like crazy thinking it got my point across or got their attention better.  The truth is, speaking calmly, quietly and firmly is scarier to a child than all the yelling in the world.  As a teacher, I tend to treat my students like I would my own kids because I care about them.  When a child fails to follow my directions or do something in class that is unsafe or inappropriate, my tone of voice is just the slightest bit sad as I say something like “oh I’m so sorry you chose to do that, even though I asked you not to.  Now I have to keep my word and take the instrument away from you, or ask you to sit away from your friend, or not allow you to continue this game, etc.  If I have calmly and firmly told them what the expectations are and what will happen if they don’t follow those expectations, then if they make the choice to not follow them, the consequences are in their hands.  I did my job and now all I have to do is as I promised I would.  I don’t get angry, I don’t yell, I merely do as I promised.

So, as a parent, if a child were to sneak to a computer at night to play a video game when they should be sleeping to prepare for school the next morning, I would say “bummer!  You made the choice to do something I told you you could not do, so now I must enforce the consequence”.  End of discussion.  No bargaining, no giving in.  Don’t let them manipulate you into feeling bad or guilty, this is in their hands – it was their choice to not follow the direction.  Be the parent.

Lastly, becoming a parent can be easy, being a parent is HARD and I’ve never found a parenting manual to help me.  There were times when my boys were teenagers I really could have used one.  But sticking to your guns out of love and concern for your children will pay off in the long run, I guarantee it.  So, the heck with support groups and repeat after me – I. Am. The. Parent.

 

As you may or may not know, I have been married to a high school and now college band director for the past 38 years.  I raised three boys for 25 years.  I have taught mostly elementary school children for 27 years.  During that time I have spent more hours than I can count alone while he is either writing drill or doing his band thing and more hours than I can count having kids not listen to me or follow my directions.  Don’t get me wrong, I know I am loved by my husband and my kids, both at home and at school, but frankly,  sometimes it gets lonely and frustrating.

Last week, my oldest son gave my husband a new toy and her name is Alexa.  I scoffed at it, questioning why we needed more technology in the house.  It was just one more thing to take my husband’s attention away, one more thing to plug into the wall and require WiFi.  So, I whined a little bit on social media about his new “playmate” Alexa.  One of my friends answered telling me I should ask Alexa to play Baby Shark, so I did.  All I had to do was say, “Alexa, play Baby Shark” and voila!

A couple of things came to mind.  First, I spoke to someone in the room and they spoke back.  I have been by myself in my apartment for two out of three days this holiday weekend while my husband has either been with the band or writing for bands – unless it’s during a meal, during which we’ve been watching Blacklist.  Another story for another time. And secondly, she followed my direction.  No talking back or questioning, she did exactly as I requested right away.  That very seldom happens in my little world.  I’m beginning to see the allure of Alexa.

But now comes the question; what else can she do?  Can we have a conversation?  I understand that she can play whatever music I ask her to play, and spell or define words for me, but can she do anything really useful like doing my subplans?  I guess I could start by asking her what she can do.  And I’m thinking I would like to have her call me Madame President.  I could use a little self esteem building and what better way to do it than to have this disembodied voice call me by a title.  A little creepy, but I’ll take what I can get.

My next question is, why do they all have to be female?  How cool would it be to have Alex instead with this deep sexy voice asking me what he can do for me?  It would be even better if he had an accent of some kind. I think someone is missing a huge marketing opportunity here.  Oh sure, I know it’s mostly men buying this tech stuff, but maybe they could entice a few more women if they were talking to Alex instead of Alexa.

The thing I really hate about this Alexa thing is that it’s intriguing and that’s the last thing I would ever want to think about technology.  After all, technology is merely a tool, something I use to teach or write with.  Thinking about technology as a relational thing is disturbing at best, but when you’re desperate for positive human interaction, even I can fall under the spell of Alexa.

So, just like any other relationship, it’s time to get to know each other better I suppose.  Goodbye loneliness, hello Alexa!

 

 

Succeed is an interesting word.  By definition to succeed is achieving the desired aim or result.  The definition insinuates that there was a goal to begin with.  I recently heard an author say that her definition of success was “giving it your all”.  But what defines “all”?  Is “all” all I can do at that moment or is it something beyond that?

Do we ever really achieve our goals?  I’m not talking about those things that are measurable, like the goal of getting a college degree, perhaps, but even in that there can be levels of “success”.  My husband has a saying that even the person at the bottom of their med school glass is stilled called “Dr.”.  Are they as successful as the person who graduated at the top of their class?  Pretty subjective, huh?  It depends on the perception of the person looking at it.

It’s interesting to me that if you ask most people who are considered successful if they feel successful, they will say no.  They usually consider themselves a work in progress, someone who is still working to make things and themselves better.  A person may at some point become satisfied with what they’ve accomplished but that doesn’t necessarily define itself as successful.

So who sets the goal for success?  In the Every Child Succeeds Act, someone besides the child, their family and sometimes even their educators is deciding what it means to succeed.  It’s the state department of education who doesn’t know this child from Adam or legislators who know nothing about education.  And can every child actually succeed?  As a teacher, I believe a child can certainly succeed to a degree, but that degree of “success” depends on whether or not someone or something can motivate the child to WANT to succeed.

Does success mean as a whole person or in particular aspects of that person?  I know for a fact that I am not a success when it comes to things like technology.  Part of it is that I don’t care about learning enough to be successful.  Technology has very little meaning for me, it is only a tool to get to other goals, like communication.  In one of his books, Sir Ken Robinson talks about a young girl who was having so much trouble succeeding in school that she was referred to a counselor or therapist.  After a time with the child, he turned on some music and asked the mother to step outside of the office with him, telling the child they would be back in a minute.  While they were gone, they observed the girl get up and begin dancing to the music.  The counselor told the mom she didn’t have a problem, she had a dancer.  The little girl eventually became a renowned dancer and choreographer, but she was considered unsuccessful by her teachers due to her classroom behavior.

I look at my kids in my classroom and nothing much has changed since I was a kid.  There are the quiet, compliant kids who do whatever you ask, the go-getters wanting to prove themselves and get your attention, the kids who want to be cool and pretend they don’t want to do what you’re asking.  Then there are those kids who just don’t fit in any box, they think differently, they’re interested in completely different things and they are about as compliant as a brand new puppy.  These are the kids considered to be “unsuccessful” in class, the ones who are always in trouble, the ones that, quite frankly, can make even this teacher a bit crazy.  And yet, deep down, I know that school, the way it is now, is not a place for this kid to be successful, at least in the conventional sense.  So if we’re going to be following this Every Child Succeeds Act, we better be finding those things within education that kids can succeed at.

So, if we’re going to ask people to give their all, as the first author suggested, we need to  get them excited and motivated to aim high and help themselves achieve their desired results.  Perhaps then they’ll be perceived as successful, in whatever area or field or art form they choose.  And as educators, despite the fact that others are telling us what the desired result is for all children, we need to remember that not all kids are successful at things like math and reading.  Some of those kids are hands on kids and will succeed at making or fixing things.  Some of them are creative and will be entrepreneurs or artists.  Hopefully they will have been successful enough to utilize the basics, but then as adults and teachers, we need to let them fly towards their own goals, achieving their own results under their own power.  Then perhaps, every child will truly succeed.

 

 

Two stories caught my attention this morning.  The first was a blog by a middle school teacher concerning “lawnmower parents”.  A new term for me so I was intrigued.  The second story concerned a 5 year old boy who walked home by himself on the first day of school.  Seemingly different at face value, however, both lead towards the same powerful message.

Story number one.  A middle school teacher happens to walk up to the office during her plan time where there is a dad bringing something to his daughter.  The teacher is thinking, ok, maybe she forgot her lunch or glasses or something.  Dad produces a water bottle.  You know, one of those fancy bottle that keep the water cold all day.  He looks a little sheepish as he hands over the bottle.  Apparently the daughter texted dad and said she had forgotten her bottle.  Dad asks, don’t they have water fountains at school?  Daughter answers, I just can’t drink water unless it’s in my water bottle.  So dad, in his suit, decides to give in to the daughter saying “teenagers – what you do?”.

So I learned that a lawnmower parent is one who will mow down anything that is an impediment or hardship for their child.  In this case, dad didn’t want the daughter to do without her water bottle.  I completely understand not wanting your children to have hard times.  No parent wants to watch their child suffer or do without, but life happens. How we teach our kids to deal with those times is what is important.  Something tells me this guy will never be an empty nester.

The second story is tricky so bear with me here.  It was the first day of school for this little guy and after school he was supposed to go to after school care at the school.  At the end of school, he went to the bathroom and when he came out, his class was gone and he didn’t know where to go.  Somehow he had been missed in the chaos that is the first dismissal of the school year. Later that day, his mom gets a phone call from the child, telling her that he was home.  Long story short, the child saw his class was gone so he decided to go home.  Because he couldn’t read, his mom asked him how he knew to walk the 2.5 miles.  He said he looked for familiar landmarks and got home by himself, calling mom when he got there.

Now, yes, this is a story about a major error in terms of adults keeping track of this little boy, but there is a bigger story here.  This 5 year old, when faced with the unknown, was able to figure out how to get home on his own.  He thought logically and went to the place he knew was safe.  His parents of course were angry and concerned, but underneath I bet they’re proud of their little guy.

In our society, particularly for those who have the means, parents want to do all but bubble wrap their children, take all the decision making away from them, not allowing them to fail and figure out how to help themselves.  It’s a scary thing.  Nothing is ever their fault and they always want someone to “fix it” for them.  Well, parents might be able to swing that when their kids are children, but what about college?  Their first job?  Their first serious relationship?  I have children who don’t know what to do when they break a pencil and they want me to tell them what to do.  It’s ridiculous.

Think about how easy it would be to manipulate an entire generation of young people who are used to someone else taking away all their troubles.  A generation of young people not able to think for themselves, having to depend on others to mow over any problems that might arise.  We see some young adults already today who are wracked with anxiety because of stresses they’ve never experienced and they come to a complete standstill, incapacitated to the point that they just run away or quit.

Personally, my money is on the young man who was able to problem solve his way home.  I think we really underestimate our young people.  In other countries/cultures, children are given much more responsibility and opportunities for decision making.  We look at these examples and think, I’m so glad my kids don’t have to have that kind of responsibility when the truth is, they NEED to have that responsibility and NEED to problem solve in order to become effective adults.

So my advice to lawnmower parents?  Get off the lawnmower and put your child on it.  Let them be in the driver’s seat to problem solve for themselves.  They’ll thank you for it later.  And you’ll be thankful when they have to decide what to do with you when you get older….

A co-worker stopped me in the hallway the other morning saying she had a bone to pick with me.  Now, this is a kind, sweet woman who, as far as I know has never raised her voice at anyone and I was trying to figure out what I had done.  She said that one of the students hits her every morning when they get off the bus and it was my fault!  When I asked her why, she said he looks at her and says “slug bug” and hits her.  Even if she can’t see it, he tells her, “it’s parked right over there” and hits her anyway. My car is inciting violence at school!

It’s such an innocent looking, cheerful car – even the inside dash is yellow.  How could it possibly make anyone hit someone else?  I’ve had cashiers at drive-thru windows tell me they love my bug, that it must make me happy to be surrounded by all that yellow and it does.  I’ve had kids wave and smile at me in the bug and even had a car sitting next to me roll down their window to tell me how much they loved the bug. However, more than once, I too have witnessed the violence this cute little car can cause.

It happens in parking lots all the time.  Many times, I’m innocently pulling into a parking spot and I’ll see someone hit a person they’re with yelling “slug bug”!  I have no control over the power this car has.  I actually saw an entire family hit each other several times at a restaurant when they saw my car through the window parked outside.  What is a poor bug owner to do?

Perhaps if I give more friends rides in the bug, they’ll see it for the happiness it can bring instead of the “slug bug” reputation it has.  Feeling the wind it their hair and the sun shining on their faces with the top down is the best therapy anyone could ask for.  Perhaps it would take their minds off of the car’s darker side.

Do you suppose the bug knows the consternation it causes?  Just like a pretty girl with a mean streak, does it trick people into thinking it’s one thing and then, BAM!  All of a sudden people are hitting each other?  Does it have that same warped sense of humor that I have, where you secretly laugh inside each time that cute little car causes you to hit one another?  Gotta admit, it’s an interesting game of manipulation, especially for an inanimate object.

I suppose I could give it up, for the sake of humanity, but – Nah – not so much. Hit away my friends, hit away.

“We have you today Mrs. Bush!”  “I’ll be there!”, I answer as they smile, give me a hug or a high five.  I get this mostly from the younger crowd, especially the Kinders and 1st graders.  Today was no exception as I walked into the gym for before school duty where five fairly straight rows of five year olds sat on the floor waiting for their teachers, backpacks larger than they are on their backs, looking more like a recliner than a book bag.  Super heroes, mermaids, princesses and Star Wars grace the covers of these bags, along with one I noticed today that said “Bows are my super power”.  Whatever floats your boat.

One little boy last week couldn’t remember my name or the art teacher’s name, so as he walked by he just said “Hi Music!  Hi Art!”.  Worked for us.  This whole class of kindergartners is fun.  Some years are just like that, like there’s something in the water.  Some years you wonder who spawned these children and other years you’re just grateful they’re not like the other class.  Today during kindergarten, the kids reminded me that I had promised them a new animal, a new instrument and a new color.  And so I had.  The puppet hen introduced the new instrument, a tambourine (ooh, aah) and our new color was yellow, for jogging.  We sang our song, played our game, learned how to hold and play our instrument and the difference between jogging and running.  “We want to do it by ourselves!”, so I said ok, just playing piano while they sang “Listen to the hen go cluck, cluck, cluck!” “Are you sure it’s not moo, moo, moo?” I ask.  “Nooooo!” as they topple over laughing – they are sitting on the floor of course.

“Can we do the steady beat song now?”  Great segue, it was in the plan to review so off we go.  I have one little guy who is just standing there while the other kids are singing and moving to the beat.  I go over to him and encourage him to try.  I don’t know these kids very well yet, so it’s hard to know if they’re obstinate or just shy.  This one was shy, but after some encouragement and silly faces from me, he did great.  Then we introduce the Chicken Dance.  It’s a theme, after all.

Most of the kids have heard of the chicken dance, but have some motor skill struggles as we try to go from movement to movement.  Have you ever tried to teach elbow swings to five year olds?  Some years are really a struggle, but this group does not disappoint and are swinging away without someone going backwards.  It’s a miracle!  Of course you have the one little guy who is quietly singing to his buddies “I don’t want to be a chicken, I don’t want to be a duck, so shake my butt, clap, clap, clap, clap”.  I give him the look and inform him that it’s not a butt, but tail feathers since we’re talking about a chicken.  Sounds logical to him.  Wish my 5th graders could be swayed that easily.

Then there are times where I am in wonder of a child, especially one who struggles with special needs.  This little guy is adorable and at the beginning of school really struggled with any kind of transition.  The anxiety was very real and he reacted out of fear, needing to be taken from the classroom to calm down.  The first time he came to music, I had heard about him and decided rather than have him go through all the transitions with the kids, I would keep him in one place, give him the gong and he could hit it anytime the rest of us had a transition.  It worked like a charm.  He told him mom his favorite thing that day was playing the gong.  Today he came to my room, sat down in the circle with his new friends and proceeded to play the new instrument, move to the colors (with help), sing his song, clap to the beat and try the chicken dance.  It was an absolute joy to watch the power of music in this child’s life. It makes what I do so worth the exhaustion I feel at the end of the day, definitely a good tired.

In a few years, as they get older and more “cool”, I won’t get the excited hugs like I used to (especially from the boys), but I’ll know I made a difference as they begin taking lessons and join band, strings and choir, understanding hopefully that music is work, but music is also fun and a part of who they are.  And that’s ok, as I’ll have another batch of Kinders to work with as well.