Have you ever really thought about the word “gray” before?  Gray seems to have more significance for me as I get older, both literally and figuratively.  Officially, gray is that neutral color between black and white, but we’ve managed to turn that word into so much more, a way to not only describe a color (or lack of), but how we feel and what age we might happen to be. Today is kind of a gray day for me and my hope is that in writing this, the gray might begin to lift.

Things went literally gray a couple of days ago.  I went to a wine tasting event early Saturday afternoon, a ridiculously hot muggy day for early June in Nebraska.  To prepare, I ate a late breakfast and packed water to take.  As the day and the heat progressed, we made it a point to sit under shade trees for awhile, and take advantage of not only the water I brought, but the water offered by the different wineries.  I thought I was being careful.  Towards the end, as we were getting ready to leave, I started to feel bad, dizzy and slightly nauseous.  The slight incline of the path going back to the car began to look like a mountain and all I could do was pep talk my way back in my head.  But I didn’t make it.  We got to the gate and I swallowed my pride and said something, probably a good thing because things got vey gray after that.  Thanks to two great friends and a wonderful staff of people, everything worked out fine, but it was the first time I didn’t look at it as just becoming dehydrated on a hot day – I looked at it as being old.  It didn’t help that the EMT was all of 21 years old.  I probably reminded him of his grandma.

I’ve been seriously contemplating letting my hair transition to its natural color which happens to be a very light gray/white.  After all, I will soon be celebrating my last year in my 50’s and maybe it’s time to just go with the flow.  Am I giving in to the inevitable or finally being real?  I don’t know.  It’s funny how gray messes with a person.  One gray rainy day can mean cozy comfort with a good book, whereas a week of gray days can completely bum you out.

Gray is considered a neutral color – just about anything and everything goes with it.  It can tone down a bright yellow or lighten up a navy blue.  It can be feminine or masculine depending on what you team up with it.  Gray can also represent how you feel about a certain issue.  I’m learning that things I was really black and white on in my youth are more of a gray now.  The more I experience and the more people I meet, the more I realize how gray life is.  Are there still lines drawn in the sand?  Yes, just not as many lines in my case.

Just think of how the word gray is defined, besides its description as a color, it is also defined as dull and nondescript; without interest or character, colorless, insipid, jejune, unremarkable, flat, bland, dry, stale.  Gray is predictable, without color or shock value.  When you look at antonyms of the word, you see words like bright, cheerful, festive, heartwarming and sunshiny.  All of the things I want to be, that I hope to be, that I try to create around me, but gray keeps rearing its ugly, colorless  head.

And isn’t this the way our culture expects aging to be?  We gradually fade to a nondescript gray until we become virtually invisible.  Ignored by a tech obsessed generation who looks at our experiences as being obsolete.  I can guarantee I could survive if all of the computers were to suddenly shut down and google and Siri were no longer available to answer my questions in miliseconds – not so sure about them.  Younger people seem so amazed when they see older people who are fighting the gray and keeping the color in their lives, people who have a passion for living, exploring, doing, and learning.  It’s as though it’s against nature or something.

Just like the other day when the world went gray for a few minutes, gray reminds us that we’re closer to the end than we are to the beginning.  That reminder can do one of two things.  It can either lull us into thinking that we’re through, that we have nothing more to offer to this world, or it can stir a battle cry, a cry that screams I’m going to do as much as I can until the bitter end.  I’m going to keep learning and keep exploring as long as I can.  Perhaps the way I do that will change with age, but gray doesn’t mean I have to stop.  Remember after all, gray goes with anything, even the most sunshiny of yellows.  I think it’s time to begin chasing those rainbows now.

 

 

His first uniform was worn on his 4th birthday, an official Ghostbusters jumpsuit complete with proton pack.  Pretty sure he was more into the proton pack but the uniform definitely completed the look and he became a Ghostbuster.  This was followed by super hero uniforms and more weapons.  I wasn’t always crazy about the weapons but he seemed to love being the hero and it was a part of the persona created by his fertile imagination.

Flash forward to 8th grade and he is putting on a band uniform for the first time.  A year early, but another percussionist was needed and he was the band director’s son after all.  He looked so young and he was always easy to spot on the field because he was the smallest percussionist, but he was good.  His focus and skill became apparent quickly and he marched like someone who had been doing this all of his life.  He was a member of a group and he not only followed directions well, but as he gained more experience, he became a leader.  While his work ethic at home may have been questionable, (you should have seen his room!), his work ethic while in uniform was unquestionable.

He spent a summer during high school marching with a drum and bugle corps, yet another uniform, and in his first year played snare, unheard of during someon’es first year.  Still easy to spot as he was the shortest one in the line but certainly not lacking in skill. And he worked hard.  He later shared with us that doing drum corps that summer was more difficult than basic training that was yet to come.

9/11.  As a senior in high school, sitting in the band room, he watched as the planes crashed into the World Trade Center.  He was driven to do something, something to serve his country, something that would make a difference.  Shortly after graduation, he decided to enlist in the Army National Guard and yes, began wearing another uniform but this time, with real weapons.  His quest to be the hero continued.  Soon after that, he was sent to Afghanistan, a surreal experience for us as his parents, and literally unimaginable as we will never really know what he went through during his time over there.  He came back changed, but he stayed in uniform for 12 years, finally retiring a few years ago due to disabilities he acquired while serving and jumping out of planes.  In the mean time, he came back to wear other uniforms, for a while as a mechanic, then as a prison guard.  Remarkably, he was not allowed to carry a weapon as a guard, but after serving in the National Guard, he began to collect them as a form of security.  Still not crazy about that, but it’s something he’s gravitated to since he was little.  It’s who he is.

In the past couple of years, after leaving the prison (thank goodness!), he has changed into another uniform, this time with no weapons, installing satellite dishes and other things for customers.  Again, it’s something he does well, utilizing his great work ethic, troubleshooting abilities and his love for serving people.  And yesterday, in his uniform, he used his skills to become a hero again.

He and a co-worker were leaving work when there was a robbery at a local jewelry store.  His training kicked in as the two chased the robber, tackled him, called 911 and held him until police came.  It was not something he had to do, but it was the right thing to do and his years of training in all of those different experiences paid off.

Is this the life experience I would have created for him?  To be honest, it is not.  I would have preferred that he go to college, get a cushy degree, wear nice suits and make big bucks with some great company.  I’ve learned however, that despite the fact that we raised all of our children in the same home, they all grew up to be their own person and this is who he chose to be.  And in the process, he has lived what I would consider to be a tough life, but one that exhibits commitment, hard work, integrity and kindness.  I’m proud of who my son has become and he is my hero in uniform.

You may find the title of this blog to be a bit ironic seeing as I’m sitting in front of a screen right now, but it is the tool I choose to use to express myself through writing.   Unfortunately I, and many others I know spend an inordinate amount of time in front of a variety of screens.  In fact, chances are you heard the news about two recent celebrity suicides that happened this week from a screen of some sort. Chances are you’re disturbed by this.  And chances are you never met either of them.

I don’t want to demean any feelings you may have had towards either of these people.  After all, we get attached to the people we watch repeatedly on TV or whose products we feel represent us, but we didn’t know them.  Their deaths shock us because they seemed to have everything, very public personas who guarded  tragic personal secrets.  Even those who DID know them in a lot of cases were completely caught off guard.

I was reading something today that said @7% of people 18 and older have suffered or are suffering from major depression.  In a city the size of where I live, this translates to about 21,000 people. Chances are I do really know someone who suffers from depression.  Chances are I could be one of those people.  However, unless I am in a trusting relationship with someone who can confide in me or I can confide in them, this remains a secret, doesn’t it?

Depression is a tricky thing.  People with depression can put on a face or mask and make it look like everything is fine if not thriving.  I think people with depression work hard to make things look like they’re ok.  And after all, people don’t really want to listen to someone share their feelings of hopelessness, or how they think about ending their life all the time or how they feel others will be better off without them.  There’s a fear on the part of the depressed person that they’ll be perceived as a drama queen or someone who craves attention – someone who is “complaining” and nobody wants to listen to this kind of thing.

I think there’s a level of discomfort on the the part of the well meaning listener which I believe stems from not knowing what to do.  Maybe the depressed person just needs to do something fun.  Maybe they just need to forget and let go of things that happened in the past.  Maybe they just needs to be reminded of all the blessings they have and to just focus on them.  My question would be, if someone shared with you that they were suffering from a physical ailment, would you say the same things to them?  Of course not!  You would suggest they see someone, get a diagnosis and get help.

Depression does a number on the person suffering, making them believe things are hopeless, that things will never change, that nobody cares about you, that you’re not important, that what you do doesn’t matter.  And then there is the guilt as you try to reason with yourself, that you have no reason to feel this way.  You have great family, a great job, wonderful friends, and material blessings.  And you maybe suck it up for awhile until you can’t anymore and it rears its ugly head again.  It’s a vicious cycle and can pop up at any time.  For me it could pop up when I had a sense memory – sometimes a smell, seeing a particular item or hearing a piece of music.  No warning, just a plunge into a deep dark hole.  A deep hole that some people choose not to climb out of.

I decided I couldn’t live like this anymore and I finally sought help.  It’s a work in progress but SO much better.  But I had to see a qualified therapist and a doctor to make it happen, with that fear that they would think I was just this whiney woman who needed to get over herself and it wasn’t like that at all.  They both really listened and took me seriously and life has changed dramatically.

As I shared in another blog, I believe we’re allowed to experience things in this life, good and bad, so that we can help others. However, we can only help others if we get away from those things that keep us in our own little world, like all those device screens.  Maybe it’s time we get our heads out of our screens and develop some real relationships so that we don’t have to learn from a screen about someone who has given up.  And if you are one of those 7% who are  really suffering, PLEASE seek out help.  You are so much more important than you know.

Yes my friends, I’m going to admit it.  I’m suffering from…Teacher Schedule Withdrawal or TSW.  Everything has to have to have it’s own acronym, right?  Anyway, let me describe the symptoms as you too may be suffering from this particular syndrome.

It begins first with complete exhaustion.  You’ve pushed through the very end of the year and on the last day before summer, when students are celebrating, you go home and crash.  This usually lasts for about a week, unless your expanded sleep schedule is interrupted by your music supervisor scheduling professional development beginning at 8:00 a.m.  It was great, but, really, 8:00 a.m.?!?  If this happens, the exhausted phase may last a bit longer.

During that first week, especially if you teach elementary school, you might find yourself holding your bladder for long periods of time, forgetting that you can actually go to the restroom whenever you want.  The only drawback to this temporary freedom is that you have to retrain yourself in August, but for a brief, shining time period, you are free, like other professional adults, to use the restroom whenever you need.

Eating becomes a pleasure again in the fact that you can actually chew your food and taste it instead of inhaling it in fifteen minutes.  Sure we’re contracted to get 30 minutes for lunch, but that doesn’t take into account that you’ll probably have to use the restroom, get your lunch, possibly heat up your lunch after waiting in line for the microwave and get set up for the next class, so yes, fifteen minutes.  It’s a real pain to go out to eat with your spouse on a date and you realize your plate is empty and he’s only taken a few bites.  You then realize that, just like using the restroom you can be a grown-up and take your time with meals now.

However, about two or three weeks in, the real withdrawal symptoms pop up when I realize I have no schedule.  At least one that hasn’t been created for me.  I mean, every single minute of the day where someone else has decided what I need to do, where I need to be and who I need to be with.  It extends into the ride to and from work – certain time, certain route.  And then this summer thing begins and (GASP!) I have to decide my own schedule!  There are just so many things I want to do!!!  I only have so much time to do them, and I don’t know how to schedule because someone always does it for me!  What do I begin with?  Rearranging the furniture?  Planting flowers, reading books that have gotten dusty on the coffee table?  Lunch with friends?  Traveling, visiting family?  So many things I want and need to do that I’m too tired and busy to do during the school year and so I get overwhelmed and I end up sitting in one spot, afraid that I’m going to once again let summer get away from me because I can’t make a decision. Did I mention that depression can creep back into the picture?

Thank goodness for meetings that just seem to keep popping up during the summer so that I have something to put on my calendar.  An empty calendar is a scary thing for me, causing anxiety, another symptom of schedule withdrawal.  Sure, I could schedule the things I need to do just like school, but here’s the irony – I don’t want it to feel like school.  The obsessive schedule is the thing I want to get away from during the summer, but then I don’t get things done.  I’m pretty sure I need therapy for this.

You know, the remedy for this would be as simple as finding a way to allow teachers to be adults in the workplace, to have enough time to use the restroom and eat without being uncomfortable.  The students have more freedom to use the restroom and more time to sit down and eat than teachers do. To allow teachers more say in their scheduling and not have someone in another office in another building decide just how many minutes they need to teach a particular subject in a particular way and how many minutes they can go out for recess, not taking into account time needed to put on coats and boots in the winter or using the restroom or getting a drink….

But I digress.  I believe this syndrome could be eliminated in our lifetime if teachers were just considered by others to be the professionals we are, treated like adults and treated with respect.  Some teachers have begun taking things into their own hands, deciding that the effort isn’t worth the stress and strain anymore and they are quitting in droves.  Maybe they’ve decided that life is just too short to suffer some of these indignities, even if it means not working with our most valuable resource – our country’s children.  It’s a shame.  All it would take would be to treat teachers kindly and with respect.

Tonight I’m counting my blessings because I happen to be married to someone who gets it when the withdrawal sets in and he makes me get out and do “summer-y” things.  Like driving in the convertible to get ice cream close to bedtime because we CAN.  Or sitting on the balcony late at night with a glass of wine while we talk and look at the stars.  Summer can be a magical time for teachers.  Here’s wishing my fellow teachers a quick passage through the withdrawal into their dream for summer.

 

“Behind every successful woman is a tribe of successful women who have her back.”

This is a quote from a friend of mine who I have the honor of serving with on a national executive board in music education.  She may have taken it from somewhere else, but it is something I’ve begun to embrace over the last several years.  You see, in the past, I have had a very difficult time trusting women at all, stemming from a lack of trust in the one woman I should have trusted most – my mother.  But this isn’t going to be about her today, but about my learning to not only trust women but to lean on and learn from them in order to continue my own growth as a successful woman.

I don’t remember this, but I was told that at a very young age, I gravitated towards men, to the point where even as a toddler, I would cry if seated on a woman’s lap, but not when with a man.  Even in school, I would have one or two best girl friends, but would again gravitate towards groups of boys.  I wanted to have adventures with them and, while not being what I would consider a tomboy, I wanted to show them I could do some of the same things they could.  In high school I would hang out with groups of guys who were more like my brothers, who by that time would even look after my well being.  They were kind and they made me comfortable as compared to girls who I was constantly comparing myself to in terms of looks or what they wore.  With them I never felt pretty enough or well dressed enough.  Let me make it clear that THEY didn’t make me feel this way, I did. If they were pretty and smart, well, I was completely intimidated, even if we were friends.

As an adult, especially as I was raising children, I found conversations with other moms lacking any mental stimulation for me.  They were wonderful women who focused beautifully on their kids and families, but I was honestly never very good at that.  I wanted a career and intellectual stimulation and again, I slipped into a comfortable place, which was with men. Looking back at it, I think I again was intimidated by women who were successful with their homes and families and I was so not that person.

But here’s the kicker.  I’ve found that some men don’t take women very seriously when it comes to wanting to become a leader, or to do something that has traditionally been done by men.  In my own state, I was only the third woman in my state music education organization to be president it its 80 year history.  When you look at corporate America, a very tiny percentage of women have made it to the top of their profession.  These women are unfortunately in an elite group and this is why we need to learn to support each other, so that other women, if they choose, can strive to be where we are.

Because of my new experiences in leadership, I’m now very aware of when men talk down to me, speaking to me as though I don’t have a clue.  There’s a certain patronizing tone of voice that some men can have when they think you just don’t understand something that now makes me crazy.  This is why it it imperative that you surround yourself with a tribe of women who get it, so that you can vent, first of all, and then get support from those who understand exactly what you’re dealing with because they deal with it too.

I’m currently watching a show called The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel which follows a young, pretty, newly single mother of two trying to get into male dominated comedy in the late 1950’s.  She struggles to get taken seriously by anyone, including her family as she strives to become independent and do her own thing.  Part of what keeps people from taking her seriously is that she is pretty and likes to dress in pretty clothes and make-up.  At one point, a successful female comic at the time tells her that “You can’t go up there and be a woman. You’ve got to be a thing.”  I think this is exactly what happens to women in leadership today.  If you look or act too much like who you are, you aren’t taken seriously in terms of leadership. So what a lot of women end up doing is trying to look and act more like men to be accepted.  We need that tribe of successful women behind us to remind us that we don’t need to do this, but to remain just who we are.

I have this wonderful picture of the women who are on this executive board and I see women from all parts of the country, with different backgrounds, levels of experience and education, specializing in different areas of music.  But I also see women who have one thing in common – a passion for music education for all, putting that passion to work serving as a leader.  Leaders who support one another and open their arms to other women who strive to be a leader as well.  I’m so grateful to my new tribe and honored to be a part of it and I hope that the women who read this will fearlessly follow their dreams, surrounded by their own tribes of successful women.

 

I’m an educated woman, someone who tests well, who didn’t have to work too terribly hard in school, except for Geometry and a couple of crazy grad classes.  I’m fairly logical and like to figure things out by myself.  However, there is one subject matter that has had a way of making me feel stupid since 1976 and that would be computer science.

Who would think that technology would be that big a deal?  I mean, now I have to live with a screen much of my time and what I know, I know.  But when technology throws me a curve ball, none of my logic or problem solving skills seem to work.  It’s as though it’s speaking some kind of alien language that I just can’t begin translate.  All I wanted to do was update my blog website and after several hours, much sighing, some swearing under my breath and the urge to throw the laptop, I gave up.  For today.  Because I really hate it when something makes me feel stupid.

So, I went to the source of all knowledge to get some instruction – YouTube.  Do you have any idea of how many videos there are on how to do various things on WordPress?  Shuffling through those is almost as frustrating.  And who are these people who get excited about teaching this stuff?  One guy was sitting in what looked to be a luxurious modern home with the curved staircase in all white.  It was like something out of the John Lennon “Imagine” video.  Did he actually make that much money doing these cheesy video tutorials?  Obviously he must be making money from frustrated women like me who WOULD be incredibly smart, except for technology.

I would really love to be of the mindset that I can’t do this – yet, but the truth is, I don’t WANT to do this, but I have to to keep up in the world.  Maybe technology gives me that feeling of accomplishment when I actually DO figure something out, which doesn’t happen very often.  And technology is teaching me how to get over myself when I have to let go and let an eight year old troubleshoot something for me when the technology fails during a lesson.  It always starts with “you know, Mrs. Bush, if you just did….”.  Humbling and yet degrading at the same time.

Kids don’t have the same problem with this of course.  When someone has an issue, there are a a dozen others who say, oh, I know how to do that, and they proceed to teach each other what to do.  No fear, no embarrassment, no feeling of stupidity, just “thanks!  That’s cool!”.  Ok, maybe not “cool” but I can’t think of the word the kids are using these days.  The “no fear” thing is what really amazes me.  I’m always afraid I’m going to lose all my work or the laptop is going to explode.  I’m told this can’t happen, but they’ve obviously never seen me in a computer lab before.

I could have someone do it for me, but here’s the kicker.  I HATE not being able to do it myself.  So, as I sit here, I know that tomorrow morning, I’m going to go in again with fresh eyes and perhaps see things differently than I did today.  Because one of my goals for the summer is to update and get this silly blog out to more people.  And if my website stinks, it kind of defeats the purpose.  So not only do I need to figure it out, it has to really look good.

More irony comes in the form of my son who, you guessed it, is an IT guy.  He didn’t even have to go to school for it, he just KNOWS how to do things.  You should see it when he gets hold of any of my devices and starts with the “mom, you know you can do….” or mom, you really should do….”  This is when I do the panic stricken “don’t touch anything” plea because I’m afraid I won’t be able to continue to do what I’ve actually figured out if he messes with it.  Sure it may end up being more productive or less time consuming – for him, but if I have to figure out how to do things differently, it won’t be less time consuming for me.

The key to all of this is just to do things my way, of course.  Instructions should be step by step and very user friendly.  Like, in a “Website for Dummies” kind of way.  Do this and then this.  With pictures.  And I need to do it, because if I just watch someone do it I won’t remember.  Surely someone out there takes pity on poor technology impaired people like me.   I really am a pretty smart cookie, and not the kind of cookies on my computer.  I don’t even understand what they are.  Chocolate chip I get, these, not so much.

Anyway, enough ranting for this evening – I actually feel a little better now.  And tomorrow morning, I’m going to show this silly laptop who’s boss and try to look smart doing it.  Wish me luck!

 

Absolutely nothing is special about me and at the same time, everything is special about me.  I am a completely unique human being, yet have many things in common with other human beings.  Nobody on this earth has ever had the same fingerprints or exact DNA as me and yet we, as human beings, have shared experiences that bring us together.  So yes, I am special because I am unique, but logically thinking, since everyone is unique, that makes everyone special, correct?  And if everyone is special, then really nobody is special.  Just let that roll around in your head for a while.

In my career, I am actually labeled a “specialist”, primarily because I teach something outside of the three R’s.  Which are not really the three R’s anymore because it’s mostly reading and math with a smattering of science thrown in.  Anyway, since I am not one of them, I am considered to be a “specialist”.  This is actually a misnomer when referring to myself and my other “specialists” because a specialist is someone who concentrates primarily on a particular subject or activity; a person highly skilled in a specific and restricted field.  Well, that would be any educator, right?  So therefore just labeling what I do as a “special” is leaving out what the other educators do by not referring to them as specialists.  So, I will refer to myself and my colleagues as educators rather than specialists.  Because sometimes being labeled a specialist separates you from others who are just as specialized as you are and that’s the shame of it because we sometimes believe that we can’t work together if we’re special.

All of this “special” thinking, got me to wondering what makes me think I can write a book?  I mean, if we’re all “special”, based on the fact that we have unique attributes and experiences, then everyone could write a book.  And they could – if they wanted to.  This is where the difference is in terms of uniqueness.  Because we are all unique and have different gifts and strengths, we also have different passions.  My passion is to share my thoughts concerning my life experiences and how they have affected who and what I teach.  THAT is the basis of my book and it’s that passion that drives my need to write.  So my unique upbringing, circumstances, experiences, personality have all shaped my passion for what I believe is important for children and why I believe that music education is essential for all kids.  My hope is that people who read will connect with some of those experiences and begin to feel that same passion and put that passion into action for others.

What is it that’s unique and special about you?  What circumstances, good and bad, have shaped you into the person you are today?  How have those experiences directed you to where you are today?  Is it where you want to be?  When I began my journey into music, at a very young age, I just liked to sing.  I sang songs with great melodies that stretched my range, even though I didn’t realize that’s what I was doing.  I sang songs with great emotional lyrics, some of which I didn’t understand until I was much older.  Then I began instrumental music, and while I still sang, my dad highly encouraged me to stay in instrumental music.  I believe he did this because he started in instrumental music and gave it up, something I believe he regretted, so I stayed with it through college.

I had a high school band director who, when I talked to him about doing band and choir, told me I couldn’t do both.  Something I disagree with now, but again, an experience that shaped who I am.  Don’t get me wrong – I LOVED band.  Still do, and the people in it who have become lifelong friends and a place where I met my husband.  However, when I did go back to college, (another story for another time), I majored in choral music.  Without the background I probably should have had, but it was a return to what I had always done and that was sing.

Flash ahead to now and I have been teaching elementary/vocal music for many years, hopefully getting kids excited about singing and playing instruments and just learning to love and appreciate music in all its forms.  Why am I still doing this?  Because I have things to share with them about their journey with music.  Things I would do and would not do, based on my experiences.  Things I believe might make their journey better and would definitely make it theirs, not what someone else thinks they should do.  I also believe that this passion extends to adults who are still searching for their dreams, feeling like their journey is going in the wrong direction and not being sure of how to change that direction.  I believe my experiences, although unique to me may be able to help others.

What is so special about me?  Again, everything and nothing.  We all have the passion and drive to do and be something special, to make a difference in this world.  My goal in writing my book is to encourage you to continue to journey forward and trust that the special experiences you are having, good or bad are shaping you into someone who can change lives in the same way I hope I can through this book.  Bon Voyage!

 

Had quite the active day with the soon to be grandson today.  Breakfast, a wildlife safari with some hiking, lunch and swimming rounded out our time with him.  We had the opportunity to get to know him better as he shared some of his story with us and something we had never heard before – the power of “YET”.

During some of his group therapy, he learned this phrase as a way to help when he felt he couldn’t do something.  Instead of just saying “I can’t” he has learned to say “I can’t YET”.  This is a child who seems to try just about anything, who has been through more than any person should, and I honestly can’t remember hearing him say “I can’t” about anything.  He’s always willing to learn new things and is enthusiastic about trying.  I’m wondering  just how I could use this new word next year with my kids at school.

Yet insinuates that whatever it is will happen eventually.  It allows whoever says it to give themselves whatever time they need for it to happen.  This is so important for kids as everyone learns at their own pace, and I’m thinking that a lot of stress and feelings of not being smart enough can be alleviated if not eliminated by that one little three letter word.  It will happen,  it’s just a matter of time.

However, I’m also thinking this isn’t just for kids.  Imagine our lives as adults and the power of “yet”.  Not giving up on a dream because maybe it isn’t the right time – yet.  Not giving up on going back to school, not giving up on a new career, not giving up on that big move or that adventure you’ve always wanted to take because it’s not time – yet.

But with the power of yet also comes a warning.  Yet can be pushed further and further into the future until there is no more future.  I don’t want to be like my father who towards the end of his life asked me things like “when we lived in Colorado, why didn’t you tell me we should go skiing?  Now I’ll never go skiing”.  Like it was somehow my fault he allowed the “yet” to get away from him.  And maybe that’s what people do.  They keep telling themselves things like “I can’t go back to school – yet” and then blame everyone, including themselves when they don’t take the steps needed to achieve the dream eventually.

When is the turning point for a person when “I can’t do that – yet” turns into “I can’t do that – ever”?  Why is it that people just give up?  Too many failed attempts?  Too many other important things that just got in the way?  Maybe they feel they’ve gotten too old or may look silly for wanting to chase the dream?  This is why there needs to be a time when the crutch or strategy of “yet” is taken away and it turns to “I can and I will”.  While I believe that “I can’t – yet” works well to help children while they are learning how to do things and learning to accept themselves, once they become adults, the “yet” must be tied to strategic goals so that it eventually happens.  Not a bad thing to teach kids along the way so that as adults they don’t have to look back at their lives and blame themselves or others for not having achieved their dreams.

My dream is to write a book.  It hasn’t happened – yet.  But I believe that I can do this, leaning on others, asking for help and advice, working hard and keeping my eye on the prize.  And again, while it hasn’t happened yet – it will.

I would love to say I made up this title today, but I stole it from a young teacher I was talking to at a professional development session this morning.  She described music as home.  That phrase made me begin to think about how music is home, assuming home is a place you love or long to be.  For instance, we live about 800 miles from my husband’s childhood home, but it is a place he longs to be and when he does go home, he spends time wandering the property, taking pictures to capture the feelings it stirs in him.  It’s that kind of love and longing we’re talking about here.

People talk about places being “home”, whether it’s their “actual” home or a place that brings a feeling of love, acceptance, peace and well being.  The beach does that for me.  But I don’t have to be in any particular place for music to make me feel at home.  Music stirs up feelings from the past, of people and places, good times and bad times.  I feel comforted by its familiar sounds and can be surprised when the sounds don’t happen the way I anticipate.  It’s something I carry in my body as I hum or tap or clap to make music anytime and anyplace.  It is the essence of who I am.

If music is home, then musicians are family.  I know that everyone likes some kind of music and there are different levels of appreciation from those where music is an oasis or distraction from their daily lives.  But there’s a different kind of relationship with people who understand what it feels like to MAKE music, especially making music with others.  Making music with someone where you can communicate without words is like a great marriage.  A person with whom you can anticipate things before they happen and read the tiniest gesture and follow.  It’s exhilarating and those times I have collaborated with other musicians, especially those I would consider more skilled than myself, have taken me to new musical heights.  I’m really not sure there is any other discipline or art form, other than dance perhaps that has that level of intimacy between people in something outside of marriage.

It’s those intimate relationships that create a home where musicians love to be.  Even if I’m not participating in a particular type of music making, just watching people who are, understanding how it works and how it feels, can bring those same feelings.  There was a particular teacher today who volunteered to play drums during our professional development.  The first was a large Native American drum where she and three others were to be the answer to another drummer’s “call”.  She happened to be directly in front of me and I watched the intensity on her face, the thought processes going through her head, the intense listening, the clenching of the jaw every time she hit the drum.  Then she had the chance to be the “call” and others had to answer her.  This time her smile beamed, and her body moved to the beat as she made music without melody between her and the other drummers.  Seriously – who gets to do these kinds of things besides musicians?

In my educational career, I’ve had the privilege to work outside of music to see how the “other half” lives.  It’s always a good thing to learn about and participate in other areas of education to get a bigger picture.  There are three stories I want to share where I realized the difference between being a musician and not being a musician.  The first was at a very large educational conference where I’m pretty sure I was one in just a handful of musicians attending.  At the beginning of each general session, they would showcase a school music group (for entertainment purposes, not necessarily educational – but that’s another blog for another time).  There was this phenomenal high school gospel choir that  just knocked my socks off.  The blend, the emotion, it was all there and I got completely lost – until my principal awakened me from my emotional attachment, saying something about trying to get my attention.  For most people this was probably nice entertainment, for me it was home and they were speaking my language.

Another time we were walking down a street in Chicago and we passed an artist’s cafe.  I literally felt pulled to go in and just absorb the atmosphere.  I even said something like “my people!” as I walked by, to which my companions laughed and we went on.  Whether visual, kinesthetic or audible art, we are kindred spirits, all belonging to the same home. The last story was another conference, this time it worked out where I could leave the first education conference to go directly to my national music assembly.  It’s not as though I disliked what I was learning or my friends and colleagues, but I could feel myself relaxing in the cab on the way to the assembly, and as I entered the hotel and saw other musicians, I knew I was home and among family.  It’s a feeling I believe all musicians share.

Are we that different?  I don’t know.  I’m pretty sure that Sheldon from Big Bang Theory feels the same way about physics, but that might be it. I know I have colleagues who are passionate about education, but are they passionate about doing math or science or social studies with others?  Is it a place they can meet with others who are also passionate and feel as though it’s home?  I don’t know.  I will tell you that the minute I walked into the professional development this morning, I was home.  The moment I heard our speaker play his instruments and sing, I knew he was family.  So yes, as my young colleague shared with me, music is home.