I had an epiphany this morning which I think will help people everywhere, although it sounds pretty silly.  You know, I did a lot of dating in high school and in college – not sure how, but I did.  Anyway, I had the opportunity to “try out” a lot of models before I chose the one that has lasted.  Not that the others weren’t great guys.  I was very lucky to always date very kind, intelligent young men, most of whom had some connection to music, that last part being more important than it probably should have been.  The one guy I dated who WASN’T in music just didn’t get what I did, and well – it ended quickly.  He’s probably some very successful retired advertising exec somewhere now.

You see, I had criteria I tried to follow, including the above mentioned musical connection.  I had a certain look in mind, a certain height (don’t laugh), a certain professional/educational component.  I was in my late teens, so please cut me a break here. And being a good kisser wasn’t such a bad thing either.  I was lucky in that department too.  Not sure how good I was, but they were great : )  But you know, all those things weren’t enough.  The thing that was the game changer was something I think most people overlook but for me it was life changing.

In the movie Sleepless in Seattle, Tom Hanks character is describing his late wife and shares that he knew she was the one when he took her hand when she stepped out of a car.  “It was like…magic”, he says.  That unexplainable knowledge that this is the ONE.  There’s probably no research to back this up, mind you, only a personal experience that mirrors the dialogue in the movie.  Meg Ryan’s mother says the same thing about her husband and in the end, Meg and Tom clasp hands, sharing a wondrous knowing look.  But is this real?

Companies like e-harmony advertise that they have comprehensive questionaires which set up this perfect compatability for couples.  Their research touts statistics of how many of their matches end in marriage.  I wonder if they keep the same kind of stats for how many of their clients end in divorce?  Probably not.  And then there are the specialty matchmakers.  The over 50 crowd, the farmer crowd, different cultures, etc.  All focusing on what they do or how old they are or what they believe.  All very important things to consider.  But there’s something magical about the chemistry of those couples who seem to have that special bond. Could it be all about how their hands connect?

It was the fall of 1978 and I was to meet this guy I had met in band at a party.  I was in the party room waiting, talking to friends when he walked in.  We looked at each other, he walked up to me and without a word, took my hand.  We had never held hands before but it was so natural, not awkward at all and I just remember feeling this inward smile.  A feeling like I was home.  Pretty sure it was our second date when I decided this guy was the one.  But here’s the real kicker.  Even today, he can take my hand and I get the same feeling, like this is where I’m supposed to be.

So, I’m not sure how to implement this in terms of others dating, but it would be fun to hear if there are others who feel the same way.  Is this the real “chemistry” that makes a relationship last?  Could something this simple be the answer people are seeking when it comes to finding Mr. or Ms. Right?  Why not try grabbing someone’s hand (someone you know : ) and see if you feel the magic!

 

With today being the last day of school before 2018, I’m thinking it’s time to start reflecting on 2017, where I’ve been and where I’m going.  I’m really good at making all these grandiose plans and then life hits and it’s just easier to keep doing what I’ve been doing.  I would love to say that I’ve lost all the weight I had wanted to or started taking those classes I talked about, or that I’ve joined something that will keep me more active, but I haven’t.  It’s not that this past year hasn’t been full of stuff or events, but you get to the end and look back and think, did I really do the things I wanted to do?

I’m not one for resolutions, but I always have great intentions.  This past year I decided to begin writing after I had talked about it for years and now I’ve been writing pretty steadily for the past six months.  It has shifted how I spend my time a bit as I’m not just surfing the web or staring at the TV as much.  In fact, I tend to turn everything off so that I can just concentrate on the words on the page.  I think it’s been healthier.  And speaking of health, I finally broke down and started seeing a doctor regularly.  It’s always been hard to spend time and money on myself this way, but I started and learned some things about myself.  In some ways, I’m improving things and in some ways I know I have some changes to make.  Not always pleasant, but it’s a growth process I suppose.

I’ve learned that taking time and space to be by myself is do-able and necessary and I have also learned how to verbalize this need to others.  Just another way I’ve become healthier this year.  I’ve also been doing some soul searching, making decisions on what and how I believe spiritually, politically, emotionally, intellectually, doing more reading, thinking and applying.  I sure do wish I had done more of this when I was younger.

Again, the problem with life is that we sometimes let life happen to us rather than setting our own course.  All of life’s events get put on numerous calendars (I have 4), to make make sure we don’t miss them and you can plan accordingly.  The problem is that I begin living from event to event, from meeting to meeting, from class to class and I’m watching the days fly by.  Maybe it’s the fact that I’m getting older and time is more precious.  Maybe I’m just now getting my act together.  Or maybe I’m just now figuring out who I really am and what I really want out of life. I think it’s a good thing that I don’t want to just settle for what is, but again, I wish I had started younger.

The biggest surprise to happen to me this year has not been any of the numerous events that have marked my calendar, but a couple of new relationships.  I had always said that I wasn’t in any hurry to be a grandparent.  Too many things I wanted to do and I didn’t want to rush the kids.  And then I suddenly became a foster grandparent and these kids have touched my heart in a way I never would have thought.  It has completely surprised me because I never thought of myself as the grandmotherly type.  I’ll never be the “bake cookies” kind of grandma, but hopefully I’ll  be the grandma with the cool car who is always traveling and learning.

This year marked 37 years of marriage to my best friend.  The thing I love most is that he’s always surprising me and making me laugh.  He’s a huge support for me and my dreams, encourages me to take care of myself and loves me when I’m a pain the…. well, you get it.  Just when you think it can’t get any better, it does.  I need to make more effort  to have quality time with him in the coming year.  Sometimes I think I got so into my own thing this year that I didn’t concentrate enough time on him.  That  needs to change.

So, on to 2018.  The calendar is already starting to fill up with meeting dates, judging gigs, traveling and soon to come, speaking at state conferences.  But it’s those in between times, the times when I’m not preparing a presentation or reading a meeting agenda –  what will I do?  Do I take that class I’ve been looking at?  Do I join the cycling class I’ve been talking about?  Do I stop drinking the diet cokes?  (That one will be hard).  I’m thinking I should take some time during this break and map out those things that are important, those things that I really want to get done and take the steps to do them.  Working on some concrete strategies to make real change, not just making a resolution and hoping it works.

One thing is for sure.  I’ll be writing more on this blog and perhaps working on a book.  Not sure exactly what that’s going to look like yet, but in another year, we’ll see how far I got with it.  Bring on the new year!

 

The precipitation and the temperatures began to fall around lunch time, not in the form of snow but a mixed bag that would soon include freezing drizzle.  The talk among the adults was, wouldn’t it be wonderful if we had a snow day tomorrow?  Yes, tomorrow is the last day before break and surely we will survive one more day, but wouldn’t it be nice?  At the end of the day I scraped the ice from the windshield and drivers side of my car as well as a friend’s car, still thinking, wouldn’t it be nice?  Well, chances are it won’t happen, but maybe it’s because we didn’t do any kind of snow dance.

I taught at one school where everyone shook the snow gourd.  It hung just outside of the teacher’s lounge and as each teacher walked by it, if it even hinted at snow, we shook it.  There are actual rituals performed by students and teachers alike to try and encourage the snow to fall.  Apparently wearing your pj’s either inside out or backwards works, sleeping with a spoon under your pillow and flushing ice down the toilet are tried and true methods.  I’ve never tried any of those myself, preferring to do the ritual snow dance instead.

There is nothing like hearing the announcement that your school district has a snow day on the local evening news and getting the phone call, which now includes an email and a text message, all automated.  In the old days I remember we had a calling tree and we all had someone we had to call.  It was actually a lot of fun to tell someone else we had a snow day!

As adults, you wouldn’t think it would be that big a deal, but let me try to explain it from a teacher’s point of view.  You see, most teachers I know don’t take very many sick days or personal days.  Quite frankly, it’s just too much trouble to do lesson plans.  Something I can do in bullet points in six little boxes in my plan book translates to 3-4 or more typed pages for a substitute.  And if I’m gone for more than a day, it’s going to be even more.  So imagine, a mental health day where I don’t have to write plans, I can’t go anywhere and I’m stuck in the house under a blanket on the couch with a good book without feeling guilty.

You see, even if I’m actually sick, there is this feeling of guilt because I didn’t suck it up to go to school.  I have to be REALLY sick not to care, but even then I have to have lesson plans anyway.  To have a free day during the week, compliments of mother nature and not having to write lesson plans is literally a gift from the snow gods.  It’s an excuse to play hooky and feel like a kid again, to sleep in, to watch TV, to sit and drink hot chocolate and watch the snow fall.

There’s also the calculations of how much ice, snow and wind we have and the most important variable, what is happening around 4:00-5:00 a.m.  If it’s too much to clean up before school starts or is still falling, we usually have a snow day.  While I prefer a call in the evening, there’s also something special about that 5:30 a.m. call where you can answer, turn off the alarm and just roll back over.  All of a sudden the bed just feels so much cozier.

But although we’re under a winter weather advisory until 9:00 tonight, it’s not enough precipitation for long enough or cold enough that we’ll have a snow day tomorrow.  That’s okay however.  I’m thinking about mid January we’ll be ready for one and I’ll have my snow dance ready.

 

The class had left the room to go out to recess and I saw I had one little guy left.  He had on his knit hat that tied under his chin but hadn’t put on his coat yet.  So, I asked him if he needed help zipping and he said no, he needed help with his hat.  I HAD noticed that he had been messing with the ties for quite a while, but he is in Kindergarten and tying is a difficult skill to master.  Then I saw the problem.  He had tied it into this really tight huge knot right under his chin.  There was no way to get the hat over his head and this knot was really tight.  So I began messing with it for the next five minutes until the next class began filing in and he looked a bit nervous now.  So now I have a room full of 1st graders to deal with and a slightly panicked Kindergartner.  Thank goodness for the lovely paraeducator who entered the room with her student, and she proceeded to masterfully untie the knot while I got class started.  He happily skipped out of my room to go play at what was left of recess.

This kind of thing is not limited to hats of course.  Many times I’ve asked a student to take their shoe off during class and had to work on the knot while I continue teaching.  I’ve had kids tie their shoes together during class and I’ve made them walk back to their homeroom that way.  I know that sound mean, but they don’t tend to do it again after that. I actually had a kid tie his laces around the bottom of his shorts (they were very long) and he couldn’t stand up until we got the knot out.  These are things you can’t make up.

One of the funniest things was one day when I had my kids lay down on the carpeted floor to rest while we listened to music.  I always instruct them to lay on their backs, arms to their sides or on their chests, eyes closed.  However, these are kids and they like to rest curled up.  So, we finish listening to the piece and it was time to go so I had the kids line up at the door.  I look over and there is one little girl laying on her tummy with her head to the side not moving.  So I ask, in my best teacher voice of course, “honey, what were my directions?” to which she replies in a tearful voice “I can’t get up!”.  I go over and her little earring has gotten caught in the fibers of the rug and she can’t lift her head without pulling her ear.  So, I get on the floor to look and end up on MY stomach so I can see, thinking I can get my fingers under there to get it out.  No such luck.  So, I get my scissors and again, on my stomach (this must have been a sight), I’m very gently cutting the tiny thread holding the earring.  With much relief, she jumps up and gets in line with her friends and I get myself up off the floor very slowly.  Believe it or not, I’ve had to do this twice in my career.

But today was a new one for me.  I was monitoring the first graders using the bathroom before lunch.  Now, because it’s winter in Nebraska, the kids have all of their coats, gloves, scarves and hats with them to go out to recess right after lunch.  Some of the kids (mostly girls), drop their coats against the wall in the hall and get them when they come out of the bathroom, but a lot of the boys just wear their stuff in rather than drop it.  Now, I raised three boys and they all did some wild and crazy things, so I’m trying to imagine this because I didn’t actually see what happened next.  I’m standing in the hallway, monitoring behavior and sending kids into the bathroom when I hear a wail from the boys bathroom.  I stand outside the boys bathroom and call in, asking what’s wrong. This little boy comes out, holding his wet hat gingerly with his thumb and forefinger, tears streaming down his face as he sobs “I dropped it in the toilet!”.  Just as I get this out of him, a second boy comes out, just as upset saying something about “I didn’t mean to!!”.  So here I have two hysterical boys, about 50 other 1st graders in the process of using the bathroom or at least pretending to, some sitting in the hallway waiting to go to lunch and a dripping hat.  I grab as many paper towels as I can and wrap the hat in them, tell the boys to wash their hands really well and finally get the gist of the story.  Somehow,  (and I don’t really want to know), boy number two accidentally bumped into boy number one which caused him to drop the unfortunate hat into the toilet.

I finally take the kids to lunch, still holding the hat which I take to the nurse’s office because she always has plastic bags, where I deposit the hat and sanitize my hands.  The boy, who is now sitting at a table eating lunch, looks slightly offended when I bring him the bag, like, “why are you bringing that thing to me?” and I inform him that mom should be able to take care of it at home. Because that’s what mom’s do, right?  Nothing personal guys, but notice I didn’t say dad.  There’s a reason.  I would hate to hear another person wailing over a hat dropped in the toilet.

 

Three more days of school before break and everyone is tired and grumpy, students and teachers alike.  The busyness of the holidays have caught up with everyone.  With school holiday programs, holiday concerts and parties, shopping and family visits, everyone is staying up too late and not getting enough sleep.  Holiday goodies are taking their toll on our nutrition and weight, everyone doing carb and sugar crashes.  I stopped by a student at lunch today who was dipping their finger into a plastic container and eating whatever was in it.  I assumed it was maybe a fruit dip for her apple.  I assumed wrong.  It was frosting.  She had a tiny container of frosting to have with lunch.  And we wonder why the students are literally bouncing off the walls.

These are the days when you see what teachers are made of.  Anyone can stand in front of a room of quiet, well behaved students and talk at them, but it takes a real teacher to completely engage a room full of sugar crazed elementary students.  I’ve watched as teachers have calmly but firmly insisted on expectations being followed – “it’s still school as usual for three more days!”.  Lesson plans are being taught and assessed in a professional manner and while we recognize that there are outside forces at work here, we continue business as usual.  It’s a great opportunity to teach the skill of “I can do my job even when I don’t want to” to our students.

I have always said that our schools do not need mediocre teachers.  The profession is hard enough without having teachers who are at the top of their game or at least have the potential to be once they gain more experience.  Teaching is an art form.  Anyone can have a head full of knowledge, but it takes a gifted teacher to transfer that knowledge to another person and motivate them to learn.  In my experience, I’ve been able to tell pretty quickly whether a student teacher is a natural or not.  I have also recommended that a couple of my student teachers not go forward.  Why would I encourage someone to do a job that is so important if they cannot grasp the art of teaching or lack the passion to work hard to hone their craft?  It certainly does not benefit the student and because a teacher can touch thousands of students in their career, it should be in the best way possible.

The same can be said about older teachers.  Those teachers who are close to retirement age and are just going through the motions, doing the same lessons the way they always have, not seeing a reason to learn something new because they’re going to be finished in a few years anyway.  And while most of these teachers have more tricks in their bags, and can “fake” their way through the day, students can tell if the teacher really doesn’t want to be there.  In so many cases however, the teacher can’t afford to retire early or is considered too old to enter another career.  And so they hope for a student teacher so that they can sit at their desk and relax for the remainder of their careers.

This afternoon I attended my monthly PLC meeting (Professional Learning Community) with all the other general music teachers in my district.  The group ranges from first year teachers to veteran teachers of 30 years or more, coming with different strengths and philosophies.  The young teachers are so young and enthusiastic, speaking with great animation about how their students are doing and all the great activities they’re doing.  Then there are the teachers who have been there awhile who have a nice solid background and speak with authority.  And then there us oldsters, the ones who sit back and just watch everyone else.  Comparing activities to what we already do, tweaking in our heads any changes we might make to those tried and true lessons.  Maybe a little less enthused than we used to be.  Maybe a lot less enthused.

And this is where teachers like me need to make a decision.  I believe with my whole heart that there should be no mediocre teachers in our classrooms, but what if you realize you may be one of those mediocre teachers?  Not because you lack experience or passion but because you’ve burned out.  Burned the candles at both ends.  Expended your energy on something you believe in so strongly that you need to step away for awhile.  Or begin planning what you want to do next so someone else with more enthusiasm for the job can take over one day.  I LOVE working with college students and young teachers, but my energy for being in the classroom is slowly dying.  So what to do?

I believe you begin working on the next chapter.  I’m certainly not ready to stop working.  It would be like the wind not blowing in Nebraska.  I would probably fall over!  But now is the time to begin taking steps so that I don’t end up being that teacher who just hangs on until retirement because they don’t know what else to do.  Because our students deserve better than mediocrity.  They deserve only the best teachers.

 

 

In May of 1977, my favorite series of movies began.  I was 17 years old and finishing my senior year of high school.  I don’t remember who I went to the movie with the first time, but I proceeded to see the movie in the theater seven times with seven different people.  When asked what I wanted to do on a date I would say “I want to see Star Wars!”.  Pretty sure I never had to pay for it.  There was something about it that struck a chord with me, something about the characters and the story that I couldn’t get enough of.  Since that time, I’ve seen every one in the series and anytime I catch them on TV they pull me in again, taking me back to my teenage years.

Yesterday I saw the latest installment of the series and it was like going home.  Characters that felt like old friends and others who were becoming new friends.  There were moments when I became completely lost in the story.  Not every movie does this for me, but for some reason, this one does. When I need to step away from the real world, this is a great escape.  I want to see how the story ends.

As a little kid, apparently I got lost in stories on a regular basis.  When my brother was born, I became Maid Marion of Robin Hood fame and wouldn’t answer to my own name. Seems I may have been a little jealous of the new baby in the family.  A few years later, I was Mary Poppins trying to jump off of things with my umbrella, just certain I could fly.   Then books took over and I was living through the words on the page.  Little Women, Heidi, Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm – all stories where the female characters worked through difficult situations to reach satisfying and/or successful endings.  I needed these stories because I too was living through difficult circumstances and these stories were encouraging to me.  I read them over and over, never getting tired of the characters or the stories.  My own story was not what I would want it to be but I was able to live vicariously through these books.

So here it is, 40 years after the initial Star Wars movie and I still want to live vicariously through the lives and adventures of these characters.  The situations aren’t easy, and the fight against evil seems never ending.  Again, what is it about this story that I will actually get up early on a weekend to see it when I could be sleeping in?  Could it be that I don’t get lost in my own story?  What is my story?  What is YOUR story?  Am I living my story my way or am I living the story others think it should?  Am I afraid to live my own story?

In my own story I come up against things I fear and while sometimes I will fight against that fear, many times I don’t, and I think that keeps me from getting lost in my own story.  Anytime I’m living the way someone else thinks I should or when I don’t face up to my fears or the obstacles that come in my way, it takes me out of my own story.  I’m then living in a story that someone else is writing.  I’ve given control of my story to that fear or that other person’s opinion.  I believe this includes family.  I don’t think having a family should keep anyone from writing their own story.  In fact, not living your own story teaches your family that they have to lose a part of themselves in order to have a family.  But I think that goes against who God made us to be.  While it may sound selfish to pursue the person you were meant to be, God made us to be unique individuals and I think we can BE those unique individuals, even with family. I shouldn’t have to sacrifice who I was meant to be for anyone, and I shouldn’t expect my spouse or family to do it either.

Does that mean that I don’t have to be responsible for my actions?  No.  I certainly can’t just up and quit my job and mess with the household finances.  But I COULD take the steps I need to take, little by little to make the changes I need to make to become who I was meant to be.  The characters in all of the stories I love all face challenges, but with their hard work and support from the people who love them, they ultimately succeed.  This could certainly be my real life story if I’m willing to do what it takes to become the heroine.  We see this all the time.  That friend who decides to take a class or two every semester in the evening while working full time and raising a couple of kids.  We celebrate with them when they graduate with the degree they wanted.  The person who goes against all odds to work through hardships to do something extraordinary.  Aren’t they just writing and living their own story?

I have a couple of friends who are frustrated right now because they are not living their own story.  They’re living in a story they think they’re supposed to be in, but it doesn’t feel right. Right there is a major hint that steps need to be taken to start writing their own story.  A story isn’t written overnight and there are edits and rewrites along the way, but slowly and surely, the story gets written if we keep pushing through the writers block.  And once the story is finished, don’t you want to be satisfied with the ending? Just like Star Wars for me, the ending is one that leaves me completely satisfied and excited for more.   Leaving us with characters on the path to their destiny.  Is your destiny to write your own life story or to let others write it for you?  Isn’t it time to get lost in our own life stories?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The best material comes from Kindergarten. Mainly because you just don’t know what’s going to come out of their mouths.  It’s Friday afternoon and I have two classes left; Kindergarten and First.  It’s like the ultimate test to see if you really have what it takes to be a music teacher the last 6 days of school before break.  Kindergarten has done a wonderful job of walking down the hall apparently, based on the positive reinforcement from their teacher, but as they walk into my classroom, there’s an immediate clog at the door because they all want to share some little bit of info with me.

“I have chapped lips.  I used chapstick but it’s getting worser”.  “I finally lost my tooth Mrs. Bush!”, as she pulls her lip down to give me a closer look.  “This is December so it’s almost my birthday in January!”.  “My bow came out, can you put it back in?”.  “Mrs. Bush, can you tie my shoes”.  And on and on.  When I finally have a chance to talk to them as a whole, I say “wow, I love that four of my friends walked right in and sat on their dots.  Great job!”.  Then, the rest of them go scrambling to their dots to start asking questions.  “Are we going to sing the snitching song?” (otherwise known at “I’m Getting Nothing for Christmas”).  “Can we dance to Cray Cray Christmas?”  “Are we going to play instruments today?”  So, just getting them started is a challenge.

Then the fussing starts.  “He’s sitting on my spot!” “She’s annoying me – I told her to stop but she won’t stop”.  All the while I’m trying to get them to sing “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” with a forced smile on my face.  Then I see two of my little girls with concerned looks on their faces trying to comfort a little friend who is sitting with her face in her hands.  When I ask her to come see me (picture me now sitting in a chair in front of the circle), she looks at me with a little tear stained face and tells me that she’s missing her mommy.  Well, this little one tends to do this a lot but the mom thing (or now maybe the  grandma thing) kicks in and I tell her to hop up on my lap so I can keep teaching.

I don’t know if this is really kosher anymore, but the kid needed a hug and little bit of mommy-ing.  And the entire class was distracted by her crying and I had stuff to do. As she begins to calm down, this little voice pipes up in the back and says “Hey!  You’re like Mrs. Claus!”.  Well okay then.  If Mrs. Claus had her hair colored every month, I suppose I could be.

I have this little love/hate relationship going when it comes to teaching Kindergarten.  On one hand they are just so little, excited about EVERYTHING and so many experiences are new.  I mean, there’s just not the same excited intake of breath from the 5th graders when I pull out the rhythm sticks as there is from the Kindergartners.  On the other hand, 5th graders aren’t usually showing me their loose teeth, asking me to tie their shoes or have snot constantly running from their noses.  Well, not many anyway.  There are so many procedures that have to be taught for those little guys that sometimes it feels like it takes forever for them to catch on.  But there’s nothing like a little guy looking up at you at the end of class saying I love you and giving you a hug.  Most 5th graders wouldn’t be caught dead doing that.  I’m just very grateful that I only have to teach them for 50 minutes a day and not all day like the classroom teachers.  Those women are saints.

Not that I’m counting, but there are five more days of school which includes a whole school singalong as the last thing we do right before we leave for break.  I’ll be earning my money for sure.  The Kindergarten will be sitting on the floor with all the big kids right in front of me, excited to sing with them.  And I’ll be there with my Santa hat, listening to the excited intake of breath as each song is introduced.  While I’ve been doing this forever, I need to remember that for them, it’s the first time and it’s an opportunity to give them a musical memory that they may remember forever.  Merry Christmas!

It’s just a little storefront mom and pop restaurant, in a town of just over 2,000 people about 17 miles south of our place.  The lady working the cash register speaks few words to her customers – aside from repeating what you order, you don’t hear much from her other than yes, thank you and the amount you owe.  She’s careful to warn customers if a dish is particularly spicy, making sure that it’s what you really want. Tonight she was layered against the cold coming in from the entry, which faces the north (of course) with a Peterbilt cap on her head.  She transitions smoothly from taking orders on the phone to taking care of customers at the counter, putting orders in bags or on trays, adding plastic utensils and fortune cookies and sweet and sour sauce when needed.  Everything she needs is within four steps because that’s about all the room she has, but everything is organized in such a way that she doesn’t need to go far.  There’s a well worn Bible sitting next to the register and a thick commentary, and you can imagine her sitting quietly and reading during lulls in business.

We’ve never been there when it wasn’t busy.  Tonight we went about 6:30 and were surprised to be the only ones in the place.  It didn’t last long. There are about ten formica tables and booths with a mirrored wall and pictures of various dishes on the wall; sweet and sour chicken, Mongolian beef, vegetable lo mein.  A large fan adorns one wall and the entry is covered in a hodgepodge of plants in various states of growth.  The walls are just dirty enough to give the place some character. We chose a booth farthest away from the door to stay warmer, but pretty soon the place was hopping and for the next half hour the phone rang and the door kept opening as people of all ages and from all walks of life came in for their orders.  One person came in with a Christmas dress and bright red stockings and boots.  I’m pretty sure she was an elf.

There’s a man and woman doing the cooking, although the man seems to handle most of the stir frying.  The woman makes the crab rangoon, eggrolls and rice.  They don’t speak much either, other than once in a while when you hear them speaking in their native language with a slight edge to their tone.   One time when we visited, the man surprised me when he stopped us to tell us he liked my car.  He told me he would trade me his Honda for it.  Ha! I don’t think so.  Tonight however, he was completely focused on making the food, each order methodically made  in order and served as quickly as possible but never carelessly.  The food is good and consistent and there are obviously a lot of repeat customers as demonstrated by the usually short but familiar repartee.

It’s not like there aren’t Chinese restaurants closer to home, but there’s something about this little place; a Chinese family working together in small town Nebraska and how they’ve made a place for themselves in this community.  It’s not the least bit fancy, just a comfortable place to stop in for a good meal and people watch.  It’s that small town Americana theme with a twist.  Or is it?  America is supposed to be a place where if you work hard and do what you know well, you can succeed.  I think about that well worn Bible right next to where she works and I can’t help but think that this guides that work ethic, and perhaps fills her with gratitude, even on crazy evenings like tonight where she gets no rest.  It might seem silly, but that’s inspiring to me.  Not sure I’m always at grateful as I should be.

So, if you ever get a chance, go to Hickman and check out East Meets West and experience it for yourself.  It will fill your tummy and perhaps your heart as well.  And leave you with leftovers to boot!

.

 

I remember the panic quite distinctly.  I was in the tiny little bathroom at the school where I was frantically changing clothes and throwing on make-up for my first program at my own school.  I had waited too long to get ready or taken too long setting up or something but all I knew was that there were parents filing in already and I was going to have all these kids standing there waiting for me.  Well, they didn’t have to wait but my entrance was less than glamorous, let me tell you.  I remember that this had been a difficult first year with these kids and while I had had some wonderful mentoring in terms of putting on a program, I had never run one completely by myself.  I’m pretty sure I forgot a prop I promised and some poor kid had to improvise during the program.  His parents were less than pleased.  The feedback from the sound system was a constant issue. The only good thing about this program was that it eventually ended and I had nowhere to go but up.

So, tomorrow night is the first concert of the year and my little choir will be singing their hearts out.  I hope.  Kids are always the unknown in this equation.  You can rehearse like crazy, make sure they understand the behavior expectations, send a million things home and invariably something bizarre will happen.  I learned from that first disaster of a program to give myself plenty of time to make sure everything is just the way I want it AND have plenty of time to get ready.  This is why I tend to just take everything to school in the morning and stay until the program is over that evening. I don’t usually eat a lot beforehand and, without giving you too much info, I tend to be ill before every performance anyway.  It’s just part of the ritual.

I am totally superstitious about the whole “bad rehearsal/good performance” thing.  In fact, it scares me to death if the dress rehearsal runs without a hitch.  It just means that something weird will happen during the performance.   I swear, it happens every time.  Tomorrow afternoon is the dress rehearsal.  We’ll see how it goes.  Oh, and can we talk technology?  You know, it used to be audio tapes.  Pop that sucker in and just let it go or press stop.  Not much to do there.  Then there are CD’s.  Much better in terms of finding stuff but sometimes the boombox won’t read it.  Usually in the middle of a concert.  It happened once.  What did we do?  I heard the pitch in my head, we hummed it and the kids did the entire piece, in parts, acapella.  I did say rehearse like crazy.  Then I went to the iPod, but we’re talking technology here and well, there tends to be a lot of operator error.  Now it’s all on the computer and if the stars are aligned, it should go as planned.  Unless it doesn’t which means I stand in front of an audience trying to figure out what went wrong while the kind, well-meaning parents shout suggestions to me.  There’s a reason why I’m ill before all my performances.

So, why does this introverted musician do these programs year after year?  I think it’s important for every child to have the opportunity to get in front of a home crowd and work on stage presence and public speaking. It’s important that they learn how to use a microphone and stand with confidence.  It’s important to make music – period. And they surprise me.  Those times when the sound that comes out of their mouths is just the most beautiful pure sound and you can tell they understand what they’re singing about and they’re connecting with the audience and you’re covered in goosebumps. It doesn’t get any better than that.

The best part, however, is when it’s over and that grandparent walks over to their grandchild and says “you were wonderful!” and the child just beams.  Or when a child walks up and says “that was the best thing I’ve ever done in my life!”.  Or the parent who thanks you for taking the time with that child who struggles academically or socially or who has special needs.  When I say music is for everyone, I mean EVERYONE.  As music teachers, we can make lasting memories and a real difference in the lives of our students and their families.

So how do I feel about the concert tomorrow?  Well, I’ve talked through logistics with my music colleagues and with the custodian, because let’s face it – he’s the most important person in this scenario!  The programs are finished, the props are ready on my table, the music is ready in my iTunes.  I’ll do a sound check in the morning before the school concert and set everything, make sure the mics, stands, risers and chairs are set. When the kids get on the risers, I’ll take a moment to make sure everyone is in the right place instead of rushing to get through things like I did in the old days. And then we’ll start the music, hope and do our best for the next 18 minutes or so.  The panic has been replaced by the knowledge that the most important part is sharing music with others.  And it’s not about me. Here’s to an okay dress rehearsal, a great performance, no technology issues and no more panic in the bathroom!

Seems I’m caught between two worlds.  The world of the old and the not so old.  It’s all in your perspective, right?  I mean, I’ve been told by my peers how young I look for my age while my students ask me if I’m a grandma.  There are days when I hop in the convertible and feel 16 and those days when I pull myself out of the car, knees creaking and I definitely feel my age.

I’ll be the first to admit that I still eat like a kid/teenager.  I’m all about burgers, fries and milkshakes.  I like my sugary cereals and anything vaguely looking like dessert.  Carbs are my best friends and I never met a potato I didn’t like.  And pasta – well it goes without saying.  But apparently my body is not handling those kinds of things very well any more and I see a big change in my future.  But I’ve been eating like this for a LONG time now.  It’s kind of ingrained, if you know what I mean.  If I were say, 80 or something, I would say, punt and just do whatever I want, however in all other respects, I’m healthy as a horse, and longevity tends to run in my family.  And well, I’m not sure I could deal with the possible “side-effects” of me ignoring this warning sign from my body.

So, apparently I’m too young not to change here, but I don’t even know where to begin.  I’m not stupid.  I know I’m overweight and that I don’t eat well and I need to exercise, but up to this point, it has been pretty easy to ignore all of that healthy stuff.  And honestly, I don’t feel any different, which is what makes this REALLY hard.

But maybe I’ve just gotten used to feeling this way, whatever this is.  I tend to put up with a lot before dealing with anything (i.e., going to the doctor) and try to take care of the “doctoring” myself.  And I’m sure I could make a difference in what is happening now if I just made myself eat better and exercise.  Sounds easy, right?  I’m an intelligent woman.  I know the consequences and I should just do it.

And here’s where I’m now understanding people with addictions.  You see, food isn’t just something to fuel my body, it’s my emotional fix.  I eat when I feel good, I eat to reward myself, I eat when I’m sad and when I’m angry.  Some days it’s the only thing I feel like I’m in control of.  Although in truth, it’s in control of me. If I don’t use food, what will I use?  Again, the easy answer is “exercise”. But it’s not easy when you’re talking an addiction.

When I was young, my mother used to brag on me in terms of how much I could eat and how I could always eat my brother under the table.  I was active then – biking, swimming, tennis, marching band.  The weight was not a problem so I literally ate whatever and as much of it as I wanted.  Well, the metabolism has changed a bit and the weight has piled on.  The knees hurt, I don’t sleep as well and I hate how my clothes fit.  I’ve even used my clothes as an excuse not to lose weight.  After all, I would have to buy new clothes and that would cost too much money.  The truth is I could lose some weight and be more comfortable in the clothes I already have.

Is this a first world problem?  You bet.  I’m blessed with plenty of food to put on my table.  But in this case I’ve allowed the blessing to turn into a curse.  Too much of a good thing I suppose.   I’m certainly not afraid of hard work but I feel like a kid and someone is taking my toy away.  I don’t know of any better way to put it.  Whiny and childish but truthful.

So where to go from here.  I’ll have to consider my frequent visits with my donut supplier at Amigos.  We’re on a first name basis.  He’s actually become part of my morning routine, so it’s not just my eating, it’s my schedule and how I plan my schedule that will need to change.  And I’ll try to remember that I’m not going to change everything at once, but it has to change.  Because after all, I’m too young NOT to change.  I have a lot more I want to do and accomplish with my life and I don’t want to jeopardize that.  So with help from family and friends, I suppose we’ll make the change.  And because it’s an addiction, I’ll be grumpy.  Not at anyone, but at the fact that I’m getting older and things change.  But maybe if I begin to feel younger, it will be worth it.