Most mornings I have things timed to the minute.  Depending on what I have to do that morning, meetings, choir or plan, I decide how late I can sleep in, and what I need to do for breakfast,usually on the way to school.  Everything is timed from having clothes out to how long it takes to shower and do other routines.  So, when I dash down to the garage, I’m visualizing the route to get to where I want to stop for breakfast based on what time it is and how much time I have.  Today was McDonalds for my usual sausage biscuit and smoothie.  But as I drove up into the driveway into the mall where McDonalds is located,  from all directions I saw others just like me, taking the shortest way they knew to zip around corners and pull Hollywood stops to get into the drive-thru.  I laughed out loud, knowing full well that I was one of these crazy Type A personalities.

Then the analogy came into full view as I rounded the corner of the restaurant in the drive-thru lane and looked at the people sitting inside.  A parent and child sitting at a booth, two or three friends sitting at a table, having made the time to get there early to sit down and share a meal.  Slowly taking their time, smiling, enjoying each other, the typical Type B personality, watching the crazy Type A’s speeding around the drive-thru, one to a car, thinking only about the next thing on their agenda.

I’m not trying to diss my type B personality friends.  Shoot, I wish I were a type B personality.  My idea of going to a restaurant is to eat. Period.  I find myself throwing down my meal and waiting on my husband who breathes and takes his time to eat.  So I sit and watch him, wanting to ask him when he’s ready to go.  But when he’s finished every last bite (he doesn’t believe in boxes), he’ll then walk over to the fountain and get another drink, or sip on his water and then ask, are you ready to go?  Chances are I’ve been ready for some time but I didn’t want to rush him.  Again, I appreciate Type B, I just can’t be a “B”.

My Type A-ism can be interpreted as rudeness, I’m sure.  After all, I always have an agenda, so if you walk up to me kindly and ask how I’m doing and want to start a friendly conversation, I will certainly stop and talk, but in my brain I’m rearranging my agenda, the order of things I have to get done right now if I run out of time and the fastest way to do it.

So here’s the odd part, when it comes to grocery shopping or choosing check out lanes to get into, my husband and I go in completely the opposite direction in terms of personalities.  I want to take my time going aisle by aisle to make sure I don’t miss anything and he wants to make the strategic strike.  I don’t care what check out lane we go to but he has to analyze everything to figure out which line will go the fastest.  Maybe that’s a gender thing and not necessarily a personality type, I don’t know.

My question is, are we stuck with our personality types?  Is there a way to slow myself down, to not sweat the small stuff, to stop and smell the roses?  After all, it’s healthier, less stressful and allows us to focus on more important things, right?  As a Type A, how do I get past a perceived boredom if I’m not constantly moving and doing and just BE STILL.

Even as I sit here typing this blog, I’m thinking about what I’m going to do when I finish this, listening to the washer getting ready to stop so I can throw in some more clothes and then work on cleaning the house and maybe sit down and do some reading I need to do.  I’m thinking ahead to asking a group of friends if they want to get together over spring break, working on some school stuff and scheduling when I need to teach the next opera to 5th grade.  And bright and early Monday morning, this Type A will get up just a touch later because I have planning first thing, zip through a drive-thru on the way to school and look longingly at the Type B personalities through the window.

 

 

 

Right now, thanks to a wonderful student teacher, I spend a great deal of my day observing her teaching, taking care of the occasional disrespectful child or working on my computer.  I’m certainly still working, just not in front of the students.  So lately, I’ve had a few students come ask me things like, “when are you going to teach again”, or just “are you going to teach again?”, to which I respond, I AM teaching, just not teaching you.  However, I did have a girl come up to me the other day and ask, “are you doing anything, Mrs. Bush?”.

Now, I’m not sure what she saw me doing (obviously nothing), but the truth is that I manage to stay busy most of the day.  So yes, I am observing and making sure things are going well in the classroom, but I’m also organizing field trips, creating permission slips, sending out parent letters, getting an accompanist for the concert, working on a specialist event in a couple of weeks, planning rehearsal schedules, going over music, etc.  The truth is that I don’t usually just walk in at 8:00 a.m. and walk out at 3:45.  Without help, more often or not, I am staying until 5:00 or 6:00 or coming in on the weekends to get these things done.

This is why I love plan days.  I actually wish we had two plan days in a row because one is never enough.  I’m not sure people outside of education understand just how important a component planning is for teachers.  Seating charts, word walls, lesson plans, of course, and dead guys – I mean composers, don’t just drop from the sky.  These have to be created or studied in order to teach or use them as tools to teach.  And that takes time.  And while I have been teaching long enough that I have a lot of tricks up my sleeve, when I have new curriculum to learn, that takes time.  Because I’m teaching six different grade levels and 400+ kids, it takes time to plan what we’re going to do and in what order.

And then today, yet another child asked when I was going to teach again.  I gave the same response as earlier, and one of the kids asked, “are you tired?”, which prompted another student to ask “are you going to retire?”.  “Can Miss Bell teach here then?”, and so I ask, “well, what am I going to do for a job then?”.  And frankly, yes, I’m tired and yes, I think of the “retired” word now and then and yes, sometime I should move over and let a young thing like Miss Bell have a turn at this art-form called teaching.  But no, I’m not leaving.

I ran into a neighbor in the building yesterday, one I hadn’t seen in a while.  We used to ride down the elevator in the morning as we were both going to work and then she retired.  So when I ran into her she said she hadn’t seen me in awhile and I responded with, well that’s because you retired, lucky girl!  Then she replied, well, it’s not all that it’s cracked up to be.  I think that’s what concerns me about retirement.  I’m working the equivalent of two jobs now, stopping cold turkey could kill me!

Once a long time ago, another teacher stopped teaching her students so that I could get my feet wet.  So in the meantime, for the rest of the semester, I’ll be sitting at my desk, filing things away, running errands, and working on the computer while my student teacher gets her feet wet. And do nothing.

 

 

 

What in the world do people do when they don’t have faith in a higher being?  In God?  Where do you go when things don’t go the way you hoped they would and you’re heartbroken?  Whether it’s the little disappointments or the big ones, where do you let go and let God?

I’ve shared that I’m a control freak, so when life happens, my go to is to try to fix it myself.  I’m just convinced that my way is always the best way for everyone involved.  If people would just listen to me, the world would be a better place.  I think you get the picture.  And those times when my vision doesn’t match my circumstances can be extremely frustrating.

So then, how does the “A” type personality let go then?  I wish it were as easy as going to God and saying “make me let go”, but it’s not.  This free will stuff always gets in the way.  And so what takes place is practice, practice, practice.  As a musician I should be used to that, right?  As a musician however, I have a little more choice as to what I want to practice.  I could decide not to practice, but obviously no practice brings about no change.  And when learning to let go, it’s all about change.  It’s all about letting go of the worry and the frustration and the sadness and trusting that there’s a better plan for you or another person out there.  Something bigger than you ever imagined.

And what does that practice look like?  Just like anything else, it’s a lot of trial and error.  You start off like gangbusters, just like starting a diet.  I am going to make myself do this.  This of course fails miserably because again, I’m trying to make it all up to me.  Then you go through the guilty phases.  If I just had more faith, this wouldn’t be so hard.  Why do I keep doubting?  I must not be a very good Christian.  And then, there’s that first time something happens, and you take a deep breath and despite your sadness or disappointment you say, God, I’m sad but obviously this was not meant to be and I will let go and trust.

This doesn’t mean you don’t feel sad anymore, but it does mean that you can have hope.  Hope that He’ll get you through this even though it’s hard.  What a life lesson.  And the next time it happens maybe you stop a little sooner, thank God for the circumstances and trust.  With a few reservations.  Remember, it doesn’t happen all at once.  I’m not sure when it all clicks because for me, I’m still learning.  I had some news tonight that has made me very sad but I immediately thought to put it in God’s hands.  I’m still sad but I know he’ll help me let go, little by little.

It’s reassuring to know I don’t have to hold on to stuff and that I may not know all the reasons that something happens but I don’t have to know them all.  That’s where the trust comes in.  For someone who always needs to know the “why” it’s certainly a challenge, but I figure I’ve got a few more years to keep learning.  So in the meantime, I’m going to allow myself to be sad, pray a lot and let go little by little, trusting that God has the bigger picture in mind.

Today I feel obligated to write about obligations.  I for one hate being told I have to do anything I don’t really want to do but I am obligated to do certain things contractually.  I must pay my bills, I must show up to work on time, I must do the job I’m asked to do.  I do have some choice here; I can choose not to spend as much or find a job with flex hours or start my own business.  But even in these scenarios, there will likely be some different contractual obligations.

And then there are moral obligations.  I am morally obligated to be the best parent I can be.  I’m morally obligated to help those who can’t help themselves.  And I feel morally obligated to be there for my students even after I cease to be their official teacher.  I think most real educators feel that way actually.  But today I experienced an instance where an educator basically said, when you leave here, you’re on your own.  I’ve done all I can for you.

Education is not merely a job or even a career.  It’s a calling.  Most teachers I know understand that they will not get rich teaching, and they may never get the respect they deserve but yet they continue to teach.  Why?  Well, a lot of us feel obligated to educate the next generation, to make life better for others, to make the world a better place.  It sounds a bit sappy I suppose, but philosophically I believe this.  This does not make teaching any easier however and there are certainly days  when I grow tired of my obligations to my students.  Add on a group of practicum students and a student teacher and you just add on more obligations.

But fulfilling obligations can bring peace and even joy.  If I fulfill my contractual obligations I can feel a sense of relief or peace.  Fulfilling my moral obligations can bring  moments of joy.  Having a child come up and hug me, telling me I’m the best music teacher ever (even though I may be the only one they’ve every had) is a joyful moment.  Seeing happiness on a student teacher’s face when you’ve helped them get through a successful lesson is extremely fulfilling.  Having a student you had almost 20 years ago tell you something you said made a difference in their life is life changing.

But do these examples make me obligated to continue teaching?  Well, as I see it, teaching is not only what I do but it is who I am.  Educating is not just the passing on of information.  I’ve talked about this before.  Anyone can read a lesson out of a book or stand in front of a room and just talk about a subject, but to take a concept and get someone to not only understand but be able to apply and connect to other knowledge, now that’s education.  And if you can make someone feel something as well (which is one of the things I LOVE about teaching music), you’ve hit the jackpot.

Does my obligation to a student or student teacher end when they leave?  No.  Once a student, always a student.  I too am a student and I still go to mentors when I need help  or advice, usually something to improve my teaching or when I just need to bounce ideas off of someone.  To not do this would insinuate that I’m finished learning.  Oh sure, I could continue to read things on my own, but it’s that interaction with a teacher I trust who feels obliged to help that makes the difference.  And now as a mentor, I would do my best to help any student who needed me and when I don’t know what to do I find someone who does.  That’s what teachers are for.

I know retired teachers who now actually have time to do MORE mentoring of young teachers and it’s a way to share a lifetime of experience to make the young teacher’s career better.  I think it is our moral obligation as educators to be there for as long as our students need us.  Sometimes it’s holding their hand through something difficult and sometimes it’s encouraging them to do their own thing, but we should be there.  I would suggest that anyone who does not feel this way is not really an educator at all.  They may have all of the skills but none of the heart.

So, while I’m looking forward to retirement someday, it doesn’t mean I won’t be available if someone needs me.  As I see it, obligations aren’t a bad thing if it means I’m still able to help others as others continue to help me.

 

Temperatures were in the single digits with a wind chill below zero this morning.  I’m driving into the school parking lot about an hour before school starts in my nice, warm bug when I notice one lone figure walking up the street towards school.  Bundled from head to toe with his bookbag on his back, what I noticed was the saxophone case.  Band is before school and this tough guy was showing what it takes to be a committed band member.  Or, maybe a band member who should be committed, depending on how you look at it. Brrr!!!

I love band kids.  While I’m sure other music kids are very nice and all, band kids at any age are the best.  And not just because I was in band, or my husband was in band and all of my kids were in band…. you get the picture.  Being a part of a band family is not like any other family.  It doesn’t matter where you’re from, your culture, your background or how old you are, once a band member, always a band member because band people share experiences like no other group.

People often compare being in a musical group to playing on an athletic team, but I would challenge that comparison.  You see, on an athletic team, if one or two people have a bad game, others can pick up the slack.  In a band, if one or two people are having a bad concert, it can ruin the entire group.  Everyone matters all the time.  That’s why it becomes such a family because bands have to rely on each other 100% of the time.

But it’s not just making the music that makes you a family.  It’s the experiences surrounding the music making.  There is nothing like working for hours in a hard rain, sloshing through mud to put drill on the field.  There’s nothing like losing your shoe in the mud during a competition.  There’s nothing like getting up on a snow day and having to go to an all afternoon band practice while everyone else stays home.  There’s nothing like your band director standing on a tower wearing a light jacket in the snow yelling, “it’s not cold, people!”.  These are the kinds of memories we share and laugh at for years.

It’s living with these people, literally, for years.  It’s taking trips with them, sleeping on buses, rooming at camp and in hotel rooms, and sharing meals, some in restaurants, some on buses, some on curbs.  It’s sharing rides to rehearsals, rehearsing together for hours, helping each other with uniform problems, watching bad movies on buses.  Did I mention buses?  It’s winning and losing together, laughing and crying, working and playing hard.

I remember in high school during the summers I rode my bike to rehearsal every day of summer band, 2.5 miles each way with my clarinet or sax either in the front basket or tied to the back fender.  One day my friend Jimmy asked for a ride on the bike and he tried to hold my sax case while sitting on the fender.  The sax is fine but the case was never the same.  We’re still Facebook friends today because band family stays in touch as much as they can.

So as I saw this little guy this morning, my heart was warmed a bit by the thought that he is just beginning his journey to becoming a part of the band family.  And that if he’ll just stick with it for awhile, not only will he develop life-long relationships, but he’ll gain skills that will successfully guide him through life.  I give credit to my time in band for teaching me a great work ethic, commitment, having a good attitude, working with others, and developing confidence in myself.  And while I won’t see all of these traits in a fifth grader who is just beginning, I see it in the college students I see working in the university bands and in my classroom as practicum and student teachers.  It makes me glad to say I’m a band kid.

 

I know that a lot of my stories about my kids at school tend to revolve around bathroom duty or lunch.  That’s because it’s the time I have to really interact with them, observe them and talk with them about things other than music.  Like today for instance, as I’m trying to hurry kids through the bathroom to get them to lunch, two 6 year old boys are lingering at the large trough like sink, talking to each other.  The soap dispenser is just above the sink and if not all the soap is caught in the hand, it slowly slides off the side of the sink onto the floor.  The two boys were watching to see which glob of soap was going to hit the floor first, so I just stopped and watched for a minute until they both  exclaimed “whoa!!” as the soap hit the floor.  My first instinct was to hurry them along, but I would have missed the big show. Such exciting stuff for a six year old!

As I walked in the lunchroom, I walked by another boy as he was opening his lunch box and heard him exclaim “oh my gosh” in the most astounded voice.  Mom had packed brownies in his lunch and the disbelief in his voice that his mom would actually put something as glorious as brownies in there was completely overwhelming and the main topic of conversation at his table for some time.  Down the table from him was another little boy who was using his fork as a catapult to shoot squashed french fries at the girls around him.  He thought it was hysterical.  The girls, not so much.

As I observe kids in their element, I sometimes have to stop and think about how young they really are and consider the expectations I have for them.  Like when I’m watching little kids give each other big hugs or putting arms around each other and the teacher in me wants to say “keep your hands to yourself”, but the mom in me just wants to absorb the sweetness of their friendship.  Just think about it – I have students who only began walking maybe four years ago and I’m expecting them to dance correctly to music within a specific form with other 5 and 6 year olds.  While I know there are expectations, sometimes I just need to let go and let them them enjoy the movement with all its imperfections and not be so concerned about getting it right.

But it’s not just my little ones.  I love watching 4th graders tossing beanbags in time to music or interpreting music with scarves.   Right beforehand they’re trying to act oh-so-cool and then I hand them a scarf and they’re giggling with delight.  I have them take a written test on tempo and dynamic vocabulary and expect them to understand terms in Italian and I forget that it’s only been a handful of years since they learned to speak in complete sentences, read and write. And when I take the time, I marvel as how the brain learns, how it picks up language and the meaning behind the language in such a short amount of time.

I love when we sing a song, at any level and I hear “again, again!”.  It reminds me of my own kids when we were playing something fun.  I watch them do the most bizarre things like bend straight over and put their head on the floor, or turn their hoodie around backwards and put the hood over their face or stuff their jacket under their shirt at lunchtime.  Not sure why they do any of those things, but they sure do laugh when they do.  And again, it’s my job as a teacher to stop a lot of these behaviors, but there’s a part of me laughing at the behavior myself.  Sometimes I forget how young they are and how everything is funny to them.

Perhaps it’s because we’re instructed to not allow them to be children anymore.  That might sound a little harsh, but as teachers we have so many mandates for things that must be taught and assessed that we forget that they’re just young children.  And in order for teachers to get everything done they need to do, we expect kids to sit for long periods of time in relative silence, when maybe just six months ago they were allowed to talk whenever they wanted about anything they wanted.  Maybe the things they do are enjoyed and laughed at at home, but we reprimand them at school.  There’s a fine balance of getting things done that need to be done and still allowing kids the freedom to be kids.

Sometimes I forget.  Until they run up to share that they finally lost that tooth or they went to the women’s basketball game or they got a new baby brother or dad is celebrating a birthday.  Then I remember that these are just kids who want to be with adults they can trust and and be themselves with.  Just a kid.  Sometimes I forget.

 

Tonight I witnessed catastrophe.  Blasphemy.  The absolutely most unacceptable thing to ever happen.  I witnessed the singing of the National Anthem in….gasp….4/4 time.  For those of you who are not musicians, I’m sure you’re scratching your heads.  But for those of us who are musicians, while we may appreciate and even love major sporting events, what we love more is to critique the singing of the National Anthem beforehand.  The conversations usually involve the tempo of said anthem, (it should only last a minute and 10 seconds, according to my husband), whether or not it was performed in an acceptable meter, if the phrasing was musical or not, if it contained melismas, or if it was “interpreted” rather than sung straight ahead. While everyone else is talking about the game itself on social media, my music friends are debating the quality of the National Anthem.

I blame Elisie Jorss-Reilley, Grace Evelyn Boudlin and the 1931 Congress.  After many years and six attempts to pass a bill to make the Star Spangled Banner the National Anthem, a petition with enough signatures was signed and given to a committee writing what would be the final bill.  The same committee these two lovely ladies sang to to prove that the tune wasn’t too high for the typical person to sing.  As a teacher of singing, I would agree that it shouldn’t be too high to sing, but it certainly would depend on the key it’s being sung in and how well the person has been instructed. After all, it’s an octave and a half range.  And let’s be honest, it’s not the most beautiful melody to begin with, and it’s a borrowed melody at that.  I’m sure when sung for it’s original purpose, while drunk, nobody cared if you couldn’t hit the notes or not.

But the deed has been done, and so now as musicians, we’re being pretty tough on this one little song.  As a patriotic American, I believe the anthem should be done with dignity and to the best of ones ability.  But I find it ironic that the very group of people who encourage creativity, personal interpretation and thinking outside the box get completely locked in the box when it comes to the National Anthem.  These are not conservative Republican types of people by the way, these are liberal thinking individuals who would normally call for complete freedom of expression.

Granted, the National Anthem should not be sung as a performance, but led to encourage others to join in the singing.  That’s pretty difficult if the singer decided to take a lot of liberties with the tune.  It’s a pretty cool thing when the leader can get a large number of people to sing it together.  At Husker football games, the band leads the audience of 90,000 people to sing and it’s an awesome thing.  But what works is that the band plays it the same every time and the audience knows what to expect.  There’s not the issue of individuality to deal with.

And speaking of individuality, how about culture and diversity?  Artists who come from different cultural backgrounds, sing different genres of music, come from different generations are going to feel it differently.  If you want the National Anthem to be done straight ahead, have an opera singer do it, but you won’t be able to understand the words because they’ll modify the vowels.  Then you’ll have some music teacher critiquing that.  And nobody will sing along because they’ll feel intimidated.  It’s a no win situation.

What I think I love about our National Anthem is that every rendition IS different.  It represents the diversity of our nation, the creativity of our nation, the celebration of individualism within one nation.  After all, all men are created equal, but are not the same.  And while I’m sure there are performers who look at singing the anthem in front of a large audience as another entry on the resume, I’m betting most of them are honored to sing our National Anthem to represent all Americans.

So, while I’m still not a fan of melismas unless it’s in a gospel tune or opera, I would encourage my music friends to rethink their positions and encourage what makes our country great in the first place.  Not a particular interpretation of the National Anthem but the people it represents.

I am an ugly crier.  I’ve always envied those pretty girls who still look great while the tears roll slowly down their cheeks, but every bit of make-up stays in place, the nose doesn’t run and the face doesn’t turn red.  I am more like the scene in When Harry Met Sally where Meg Ryan loses the boyfriend and is throwing Kleenex all over the room.  It’s one of the reasons I don’t like crying in front of other people.  There are other reasons why I very seldom cry in front of others but I’m working on them.

For instance, sad movies make me cry.  I just finished a movie with a terribly sad ending and I had to work to just let myself cry.  My throat gets tight, I can’t breath and I’m trying to hold things back.  So tonight I worked to just let go and it ended up being a good cry.  I’ve always been a bit over sensitive, something my parents made fun of and so I was always embarrassed when I would cry over a good story or a good movie.  So I learned not to let go.  And I assumed that others would also make fun of me so I spent years holding in the tears.  After a while, quite frankly, this began to hurt, literally.

In the past,  I would just hold everything in for as long as I could.  Holding in sad cries, angry cries, frustrated cries and every once in a while the dam would leak and let some of it out.  Then I would put a finger in the dike and try to hold it all in again.  This happened again and again.  When I got married, I of course assumed Doug would make fun of me crying over stuff and it wasn’t like that at all.  He hated to see me cry because he wanted me to be happy.  He hated to see me sad.  So, again, I would stuff it all in because I didn’t want him to feel bad.  And the cycle would begin again.

What has taken me all these years to figure out is that crying is part of who we are as human beings.  It allows us to show so many emotions – sorrow, anger, fear, joy.  To try to stuff all of that inside keeps others from seeing who we really are.  Sometimes I just need to cry.  Maybe the week has been overwhelming or I’m tired or I’ve experienced something really sad.  Crying, just like laughter can be a release.  In fact, in the past, if I laughed really hard about something, it would turn into a cry, allowing all of those stuffed in emotions to spill out.  The unexpectedness of this reaction would cause me to try to control the laughter because I didn’t want to be caught crying at crazy times.  So just staying neutral about things seemed easier, until the cycle began again.

Most people assume that those who are depressed cry all the time, but that’s not necessarily true.  Most of the time it’s feeling nothing.  However, the stuffed in feelings are always there, ready to rear their ugly head.  The intensity of crying could be overwhelming, releasing a plethora of emotions, leaving you in a dark hole.  At this point you’re working to keep the crying stuffed in to stay away from that awful place.  The problem is that if you don’t face and release those emotions the cycle just goes on an on.  Learning to cry when I felt the need rather than waiting, along with other strategies has really helped me with this.

So, in my evolution as a human being, I’m allowing myself to cry.  And laugh. I usually just tell Doug I need to cry or that I’m sad and whether or not I want to be alone. And I’m learning to laugh loudly and not be afraid of crying or embarrassing myself.  In the long run, it’s helping me to avoid those explosions of emotions.  But I’m still working on getting over the ugly cry face,

I’ll never forget that day, although I can’t remember if it was a practicum student or student teacher who had this happen.  He or she was working with some of my younger kids on mallet instruments and when they were finished playing he or she told the kids to put their mallets on their head like bunny ears.  Now, any experienced teacher reading this is going to know what happened next.  My kids became bunnies, hopping around the room with their “bunny ears”.  After we got them to stop, I asked my student where he/she learned that and they replied “Oh, we learned it in our general music methods class with Dr. So and So.”  Well, not sure Dr. So and So had been in a real elementary classroom for awhile because you have got to think like a child thinks in order to avoid having this kind of “creativity” happen in the classroom.  Not that it wasn’t funny, but it  certainly took a while to get the class back on track.

It’s all about theory versus practice.  I admire college education professors.  I have many friends who are college professors.  They have worked hard and earned those doctorates and PhD’s, much more than I have obviously.  However, only a handful of the professors I’ve known have actually kept their hand in the public school classroom on a regular basis.  Oh sure, they observe student teachers and evaluate, but when was the last time they tried to actually apply all that research and theory to real live kids in the classroom themselves?  I mean, the days of teaching “proximity” as the best method of classroom management are gone, even in the best of schools.

This begs the questions then, if it has been years since they were actually teaching kids in an elementary or secondary classroom, then how do they know they’re observing correctly?  Being able to talk the talk isn’t walking the walk.  You can tell the student teacher what to do all day but if you don’t have fairly recent practical experience, how do you really KNOW what you’re talking about based on current classroom conditions?  So many times, those professors may have had some public school experience, but they only taught for 3-5 years before pursuing their graduate degrees.  Teachers with only that amount of experience usually aren’t even allowed to have student teachers.  Why?  Because they don’t have enough experience.  I would estimate that it takes a full ten years before a teacher really finds their groove and still we continue to hone our craft.  After 27 years, I am STILL learning. And yet, it’s not unusual to have a college professor with just a few years of teaching experience trying to teach teaching.

Now, those professors who are actually getting themselves out into the classrooms bring a wealth of knowledge to their college students.  They can relate to the current state of education locally and work together to create a meaningful practicum or student teaching experience.  However, when the professor’s main job is research, while they may be able to share their findings, they very rarely put it into practice themselves in a tangible way.

Once of the finest college professors I ever had taught at the College Conservatory of Music in Cincinnati.  She is considered to be one of the best teachers in her field, teaching the Orff method for certification.  What made her so great?  I think it’s because, at the time, once a week she would go across the street to an inner city elementary school and practice her craft.  The strategies and activities taught to us had been tried on children and what she taught us could be directly applied in our classrooms.  That’s why professional development led by teacher leaders is the best because it’s not just theory, it’s practice.

Well, that’s why students go through students teaching, you say.  The supervising teacher is supposed to fill in all of the holes.  Well, sometimes, these are HUGE holes things that need to be re-taught, re-thought out, re-explained.  Things that were originally taught with no explanation as to why they are doing it and/or how it should be applied.  Nothing taught about the logistics of transitions, alternative classroom management methods, classroom environments that make teaching smoother, and age appropriate music selection, just to name a few.  For instance, my music lit class consisted of studying  oratorios and great choral pieces.  I just needed to learn how to choose music for my 5th grade choir.

While music students need to have a good background in music, thinking more on a practical level would be helpful.  For instance, instead of just teaching them to play different instruments in instrumental methods, why not teach them how to TEACH instruments to beginning students.  Instead of having voice lessons to make me sound better (important), why not also teach me how to deal with the boys changing voice?  Instead of teaching my peers and having the peers behave like 20 year olds who can just do the lesson, why not have them behave in a way that reflects the students we’ll be teaching?  Why not share with college students the fact that what takes your peer group ten minutes to accomplish will take two days in your elementary classroom?  This is not rocket science – it’s practical information to help students be prepared to be better teachers.

The vast majority of my practicum and student teachers have been bright, hardworking and passionate about teaching kids.  However, almost to a person, they all end up saying things like, why didn’t we talk about this in my classes?  I feel I should know more about overall child development but I only know it as it pertains to musical development.  Again, I know certain courses are required to graduate, but wouldn’t it make more sense to at least include in those classes, some of those hands on, practical, every day survival kinds of things to make their first years of teaching easier?  As a supervising teacher, I do everything I can do to prepare them for that first year, but it would greatly help if their college professors had some practical experience.  Then maybe we wouldn’t be trying to have kids put mallets on their heads.

 

 

Ah yes, the Carpenters.  As I sang along with Rainy Days and Mondays all alone in my little pink and purple bedroom during my teen years, I really had no idea what the words meant.  The rest of the lyrics are actually a bit depressing.  I can picture now a person, sitting by themselves, feeling down, talking to themselves.  It’s pitiful isn’t it?  The irony of it is that as I get older, I find myself doing those things that were, well, for what I had always considered more mature people.  For instance….

Talking to myself.  All the time, every day, everywhere.  I’m reminding myself of things I need to do and the order I need to do them in.  I talk through packing my lunch bag everyday and I do an audible run through of everything I need to take to school.  As I’m on my way to school, I’m thinking out loud about the things I need to do when I first get to school.  It’s actually not so bad when you’re all alone and nobody knows, but I’m doing it with my student teacher here.  I have to because if I just listen to what’s in my head and not hear it with my ears, I forget what is was I wanted to do. It’s a little embarrassing.

And Tuesday, I had an experience I had not had before.  We meet as a large group of music teachers several times a year and share ideas for our classrooms.  The idea on Tuesday required sitting on the floor.  It’s not that I can’t sit on the floor, it’s that I can’t get back up.  My knees do not cooperate at all and I end up on all fours pushing myself up.  Not so bad in front of 5 and 6 year olds, but I wasn’t about to do it in front of my peers.  In a dress.  So I sat in a chair in the back of the room with all of the other people who have trouble with their knees.  The veteran teachers.  Watching all the youngsters and my still agile older friends just plop on the floor.  I remember when I used to be flexible enough to put my knees beside my head.  I thought I was pretty cool then. Probably why my knees don’t work now.

So let’s talk “blue hair special”.  For those of you not in the know, a “blue hair” is an older person, named for the tint they put on their grey hair.  It’s common knowledge that older people eat dinner earlier and if you were to go to a restaurant around 4:30 or 5:00 in the afternoon you would see many older couples, but not anyone else.  We have become one of those couples.  But here’s what the older couples don’t tell you and it’s the best secret ever.  At 4:30 or 5:00, you can get a table at any restaurant in town and not have to wait.  It’s amazing!  Doug and I have gotten in the habit of doing that and then going out and doing something else afterward instead of the other way around.  Of course we tend to need a snack before we go to bed at 10:00, but I don’t see that as a huge sacrifice.

And speaking of hair, when is it time to give it up and let your natural hair color take over.  How long can I pull off having this lovely brunette hair with blonde highlights and not look like I’m coloring my hair.  Although, of course, you don’t have to be old to color your hair.  I have elementary students who have BEAUTIFUL natural colors and they cover it in something purple or pink.  Cute, but they’re beautiful without it.  I have to color mine just to keep some color in my face as the grey washes it out.  And I’m not ready to color my face with bright spots of pink on my cheeks just yet.

I was reassured that life wasn’t quite over yet when I followed a long line of sweet elderly ladies to the restroom during the intermission of the opera the other day.  I had to consciously slow down to keep from bowling them over and, well, walking to the bathroom isn’t the only slow thing they do.  Every movement walking into the stall, locking the stall and, well frankly, taking their time in the stall, was an exercise in slow motion.  TMI perhaps? Anyway, once I finally had the chance to go, I finally felt like I could go light speed.  The speed of a YOUNGER, older adult.  The speed of an elementary teacher with only 30 seconds to use the restroom.  I’ve had practice.  I take some comfort in knowing I haven’t completely slowed down.  After all, everything’s relative, right?

Years ago, a person caught talking to themselves a lot was considered to have psychological problems because the whole purpose of talking is to communicate with someone else.  However, now research is saying that talking to oneself is a sign of higher intelligence, some calling it genius.  I think there can be a fine line between genius and mental illness, but I’m choosing to believe that I’m a genius.  It’s something to hold onto while the rest of me is falling apart!