This morning I’m dealing with a multitude of emotions.  I’m sad, in a state of disbelief, feeling helpless, and beyond angry.  I’m angry at a system and a culture that believes that if at all possible, the best place for children is with their mother.  And I’m here to tell you, as much I would love to stand behind this concept, there are some situations where this is anything but true.

The role of mom is the most important one in all of the human experience.  I wish I had understood that more when I was a young mother. Love, guidance and acceptance from the person who gave birth too you is essential to helping us become well adjusted human beings.  This is not to negate the importance of fathers, who also play a huge role, but there is something magical when a child has a trusting relationship with their mother.  I have to admit that I am jealous when I talk to friends who have or had great relationships with their mothers.  Not that their mothers were perfect – nobody is perfect – but the mother’s efforts to be the best parent they could be seems to have paid off.

But the problem is, procreating can be too easy for some people who were never meant to be parents.  For them, having a child is an unfortunate outcome of having sex.  The child is an inconvenience who gets in the way of them thinking only of themselves.  And some people, who never healed from the negative relationship with their parents, should never have had children themselves.  Without positive role models to show them what being a quality parent is, how can they keep from repeating the mistakes they grew up with?

I’m new to this whole foster grandparent thing, but I’m learning that the system can be potentially cruel.  Not to the mothers or parents, but to the children, in the name of not separating families.  While I had some very negative experiences with my mother, they pale in comparison to things some of these children have had to endure.  I have worked with children for years, some of whom have struggled with dysfunctional parents.  But I’m finding it’s a different thing altogether when you become attached emotionally to a child who might become your grandchild.

The waiting game for these children is ridiculous.  Most kids don’t have a great concept of time anyway and this uncertainty of where they’re going to be for a long period of time must be agony.  On one hand, they may be in a foster situation where there is the possibility of some peace and consistency and on the other, fear and inconsistency.  How could we as a larger community ever expect that child to grow up without issues?  How could we as teachers ever expect them to react to school in the same way as kids in a more positive environment?

All children have such potential.  In the children I have met so far, once you get beyond their anger and acting out, you begin to see their strengths and gifts.  You see the hope in their eyes and the unguarded smiles that show themselves when they let go and have some fun.  You see the gratitude they have for the smallest things; a good meal, a room of their own.  I get that life is not always fair, but if we have a chance to change something for a child, why not just do it?  It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see where a child is suffering and where a child is thriving.

But it’s not that easy is it?  What happens when you permanently separate a child from their birth parents?  Do they feel like there’s a hole in their lives?  Is there always going to be a regret?  I can only see it from my own perspective where for so many years I wished my dad would leave my mom so that we would no longer be afraid.  And that fear lasted well into my adult life.  Children and even adult children, when they realize they can’t have a stable relationship with the adult or adults in their lives just want to find it somewhere else.  I will forever be grateful that I married into a family who not only accepted me as one of their own but especially for my in-laws who taught me what it was to be a good parent.  I’m pretty sure that without them I would have mirrored what I saw from my mother and there’s no telling who my boys would have become.

But for now, all I can do is support and pray for these children.  Let them know that no matter what happens, there will be people in their lives who love and care for them.  Making sure that I spend time telling them what great people they are, how much potential they have, encourage them in their endeavors and show how proud I am for any progress they make.  After all, that’s what an adult is supposed to do for children, right?

 

“Would you tell him to stop singing?  I asked him to stop and it’s annoying me.  Can you just tell him to stop?” 

“She keeps looking at me and it’s annoying.  I asked her to stop but she won’t.”

“He keeps following me around and I don’t want to be near him because he’s annoying.”

I teach elementary school, where this type of whining happens multiple times a day.  But this type of intolerance is typically coming from 6 and 7 year olds.  They still need to be taught to be tolerant enough to at least deal with the “annoying” person and make it through class or lunch or recess.

Tolerance is an interesting concept.  It seems that our current culture defines it as “as long as I don’t mind what the other person is doing, I’m tolerating them”.  But the minute they do something I don’t like, and it’s annoying, I expect them to stop.  Right now. For me.  Because it’s all about me.

It could be something simple like singing to themselves or as complex as their belief in something that sets someone off.  And some of it is just people who want to push others buttons, so they keep doing the “annoying” behavior or saying the “annoying” thing just to get a reaction. My husband occasionally does that on social media. And age doesn’t seem to matter.  I see this behavior in young and old, people who see themselves as the ultimate authority as to what is okay to do or say and what is not okay to do or say and they don’t hesitate to whine and cry and yell when the other person is not willing to change or stop for them.

I know that this sounds really minor, and tends to be a daily occurrence among siblings especially, but translated into grown-up language, this can be downright frightening:

“Make them stop talking about or doing things I’m uncomfortable with.  It’s annoying”. 

We’re seeing this on college campuses where all kinds of different thoughts should be explored, but depending on the college and the clientele, voices and ideas are being silenced because they “annoy” someone or “hurt their feelings” or “make them uncomfortable”.  This lack of even listening to another kind of idea or belief is what has gotten us in the trouble we’re in today.  Sure, everyone is tolerant if it’s something they agree with, but if it’s something they don’t agree with, silence it and make it go away.

I’ll tell you what annoys me.  People who don’t try to see two sides to every story or issue.  People whose misogynistic point of view doesn’t allow them to even attempt to walk in someone else’s shoes.  I get that you only know what you know.  But if you don’t attempt to learn anything else, I believe that’s what makes a person intolerant.  It’s what makes a person hide behind their wall and call other people names whose lives they will never be able to understand because they have not engaged in conversations, read about  or attempted to live as they do.  It’s so much easier to actually tolerate someone when you truly understand where they’re coming from.  And it’s easier to be intolerant when you don’t. I believe that in our current culture, we have these words reversed.

Are there things that annoy me?  You bet.  People who chew with their mouth full.  Loudly.  Makes me what to smack them.  People who don’t  load the dishwasher correctly.  Silly things.  And I’m more than certain that there are things that I do that annoy others.  Thankfully, I’m surrounded by people who act out of love and not fear or anger and they tolerate those imperfections about me, just as I try to do the same for them.

And that’s the real key isn’t it?  If we work to love people, ALL people, then it’s so much easier to consider them before ourselves. It’s the real definition of tolerance because, despite the fact that I may disagree with you or that you have a flaw that annoys me, because I love you, I can deal with or even overlook those things. As passionate as I am about some things, I need to understand that others may be just as passionate about something completely opposite. Is it possible to love them despite that?  It is something I work on.  In my family I have three boys.  Well, grown men now.  One considers himself politically on the far right, one a moderate democrat and the third an anarchist.  I’m not kidding.  How do they get along at all?  They speak through their love for each other as brothers.  And when discussions like politics get a little too heated, they stop them and will do something that reminds them that they are brothers first.  And they will leave each other with a hug.

And now, it is time to clarify something here.  This does not include those who have abused us physically or emotionally, or those we are not safe around.  Those whose behavior does more than just “annoy” but causes harm.  I believe it’s important for us to put some distance between ourselves and those who have a history of doing us harm.  I have done that myself.  In this case, it is not selfish, it can be life saving.

So, how do we change this destructive intolerance for others?  I certainly don’t have the answers, but I’m doing my best to help teach the little ones to be kind and care about others.  To get to know them.  To find things they have in common.  Because I believe that when you see someone as a person and not just a cause or belief system or a party, the labels tend to fade away.

 

Yesterday I was standing in line waiting to board my flight.  The airline has you line up by number – I was A48 and the lady in front of my was A46.  Soon, a man walked up and said his number was A47, to which a third woman said, “oh, you’re right here”, pointing between the two of us.  “You mean I am between these two beautiful ladies? Thank you!”, and he got into his place in line.  Now, this man was at least my age, if not a little older, and there was nothing creepy about him.  He said what he said with a smile and was, I believe, trying to pay us a complement.  For some women, this might be considered harassment, as he focused on our looks perhaps, but based on the context of the situation, that’s not the way I took it.  So, was I wrong?

The thoughts and questions I am going to share may not line up with the way all women think, but I believe that is part of our problem today as women.  This is not going to be solved in the thousand or so words here but here are some of my thoughts for what they’re worth.

Yes, I have been harassed.  I’m pretty sure every woman has been harassed for something.  When I was in high school I was picked on by guys because my chest wasn’t big enough.  As I got older, I was harassed because my chest had gotten considerably larger.  I have had things said to me and shown to me, most of which I did not handle very well.  When I was younger, because I had little guidance, I dressed and behaved a certain way because I thought that’s what you were supposed to do to get a guy.  And that was the goal, right?  Most girls I knew were afraid NOT to do something because they were expected to behave a certain way.  But it didn’t seem to matter.  You were a prude if you didn’t and a slut if you did.  And neither described who I really was.

So my question is, what are we teaching our girls now?  There seem to be two different trains of thought here.  Just as an example;  1.  Women should be allowed to dress and behave the way they want and men just need to leave them alone, and 2.  Women should dress and behave more conservatively because you don’t need to show off everything you have and men will leave you alone.  Well, I hate to break it to you ladies, but men are not going to leave us alone.  It doesn’t matter if we wear nothing or cover up with a bag, some men will harass us for both.  It’s how WE handle it that matters.  And as women, we need to support each other, no matter what the individual decision is.  Whether a woman decides to show off their curves or whether she believes that more modesty is appropriate, we, as women need to support them both.

For me, this is a lot like dealing with bullying at school.  We spend all kinds of time and money trying to teach the bully not to bully and never teach the victim how to stand up for themselves.  It’s the same way with harassment.  If we all learned to stand up for ourselves, while at the same time working to educate others, then we’re killing two birds with one stone.  There are always going to be bullies just as there are going to be men who haven’t got a clue, but learning how to handle it is a huge step in the right direction.

Our biggest problem here is that we’ve struck up yet another cause here without real definition, and one that women themselves cannot agree on.  For one woman, a man commenting on their beauty may be a compliment but for another, it may be considered a reason for protesting in front of his home later.  How in the world can we get men (who, let’s face it, get confused easily), to see our point of view if we can’t even bring it into focus ourselves?

And I get the power struggle here too.  As a woman in leadership, I have been patronized by men on more than one occasion. I have sat in on conversations with men where they have demeaned another woman for being too pushy or bossy.  I’m pretty sure I have several men who talk about me that way as we speak.  But I’m finding the more I use my voice and thoughtfully say what I really think, the more I really don’t care what they think of me.  I have a mind and a voice and if I’m in a place where I should be serving or helping someone, it’s my job to say or do something.  I wish it hadn’t taken me 50 years to figure this out, but I’m I’m trying to make up for it by encouraging and teaching girls and younger women to do the same, only earlier.  Men can be intimidating and, let’s face it, they’ve been watching other men intimidate women for generations.  Only by teaching young women how to stand up for themselves and speak up can we begin to make a difference.

So, as women, we need to get on the same page somehow.  And we need to stay on the same page long enough that the things we are concerned about are changed for the better.  We need to agree to disagree if necessary and just support each other.  Whether it’s teaching others how to defend themselves against harassment or being talked down to, or making sure we speak up when we see things happening, we are only as strong as the support we have around us.  I completely realize that this little blog is barely touching the surface of the issues we face as women. However, until we begin to solidly support all women, no matter their choices and stop tearing each other down, causes like “Me too” will just be another time some women whined for awhile before the next crisis du jour rears its ugly head.

There’s nothing like playing the piano, singing with kindergartners and having to sneeze.  I’m trying to lead an activity with a classroom full of five years olds when the nose starts to tickle.  I hold it as long as I can but just as I finish the song, AAACHOOO!  Unfortunately I don’t have a quiet feminine sneeze, but I sneeze like my dad.  Explosive. And I was wearing a mic.  Sorry kids.  Anyway, I continued teaching when I noticed one of my little girls walked over to get a tissue  and brought it over to me.  I thanked her for it, blew my nose and continued teaching.  The next thing I know, she is walking towards me with the sanitizer.  Another “thank you” and now I could officially continue.

Simple kindness is incredibly easy but apparently hard for a lot of people to do.  I was reading today that in Japan, being kind and respectful is just apart of the culture.  People standing still on escalators stay to the right so that people on the left can go faster.  No signs, they just do it.   There is no litter because people pick up after themselves.  Food service workers smile and bow when they hand patrons their food.  None of this is difficult, it’s just a way of life.

The beautiful thing about kids is that I see them demonstrate incredible kindness to each other every day.  I also see them do and say some of the most unkind things as well.  Where do they learn this?  And how do we teach them to adopt kindness as a lifestyle?  Well, first of all, they need to think of others before themselves which is difficult when the culture tells us to do otherwise.

Commercials tell us “you’re worth it” or “you deserve it”, all in the effort to get us to do or buy things for ourselves, certainly not for others.  They tell us we “need” things that we certainly do not need.  And it starts early.  My students believe they need every new gadget on the market and they have things like their own cell phones.  I’m not sure how I survived my childhood without one, but apparently kids today cannot.

But it’s not just things, my kids believe they deserve everything first.  They want to be in line first, they want a turn first, they want to play the instrument first.  And some of my students actually have toddler-like temper tantrums when they don’t.  There’s no such thing as offering something to a friend first for most of them.  They want and believe they deserve to be first all the time.  And again, it’s hard to be kind when you’re always thinking about yourself.

So what happens if we allow this to go on?  Well, I believe we’re seeing this in our so-called leaders today.  True leaders always think of others first.  It’s a conscious effort to help others and to let them know they matter.  It’s not about them and what they can get from something or what kind of name they can get make for themselves.  It’s about building up or taking care of others.

At my school we have something called “Wysong Wow Tickets”.  We give these to students who have some done something well.  I tend to use mine to reward kids who show kindness to one another and I make a big deal about it.  It’s just one little thing I can do on a daily basis to make kids aware of the importance of kindness.  The best thing I can do however is to demonstrate it to them on a daily basis.  I can demonstrate putting them first before myself, I can open doors for them, pick things up when they drop them, etc.  I can also make them aware of things they can do for others.

As I was sharing with my practicum students the other day, as teachers, we no longer just teach the subject we were trained for.  We’re teaching our students how to be good people.  Because in the end, when my students are adults, while I want them to appreciate music, I first want them to be good people, people who contribute positively to society and think of others first.  And that begins by teaching them little things like “the right side is the polite side”.

Ah, date night.  My idea of a nice date night is going out for a nice meal, so tonight we went to a local steak house, ordered a nice malbec for me and a dirty martini for him and ordered our entrees.  This place is a real throwback to old style steakhouses, dark wood, curved booths, opaque glass dividers. and servers who have been there for decades calling their customers “honey”.

As we’re sipping our drinks, the melodious sound of a Cornhusker fan interrupts the  conversations and glasses clinking with his personal rendition of Goooooooo Biiiiiiiiiiiig Reeeeeeeeed to which the other patrons answer Go Big Red!  As the bread, salad and bisque arrive, another fan chooses to bless us with his voice and another rendition of Gooo Biiiiig Reeeed.  Everyone smiles, and completes the response to the call.  This happens several time during the entree, the servers unfazed by the commotion.

And then the pep band comes down the steps into the restaurant, playing the fight song, followed by the cheerleaders and mascot  winding their way through tables, the sousaphone ducking under the doorway to the bar.  People get up from their tables with cameras in hand, wanting selfies with the mascot, videotaping the band, people who have had a little too much to drink, dancing to the pep band tunes.  This, my friends, is date night with a Big 10 college band director.

I don’t know if it’s this way in other places, but my entire married life I have been referred to as “the band director’s wife”.  I have been told what a cool job he must have, that he “gets to go to all of those football, basketball and football games, he “gets” to go to bowl games.  (And the occasional softball/baseball game, gymnastics meet, etc.) What a fun job!  People stop me and tell me they saw him at the volleyball or basketball game doing pep band and he always looks like he’s having a great time.  And yes, he loves what he does.  But I’m not sure they think about the fact that when he’s doing these things, he’s not at home.  So, date night is precious.  So, why go to a place where we know it’s going to be all about the pep band?

As the “band director’s wife”, I understand that it’s important for the kids to see that the director cares about what they do.  It’s part of building those relationships and creating a great college experience being part of a wonderful organization.  In the beginning of our marriage I didn’t always like the time he spent doing this band thing that he loves (understatement), but I certainly understand why he does it.  Students, no matter what their age, want to do well for teachers they respect and that respect comes from a relationship of making music together. It’s no different for my kids who want me to come to a performance or recital.  Is it something I’m obligated to do?  No, but I know it means something when I can go support them.  Shoot, my kids get excited if I show up for a dine-out night for PTO and they see me outside of school!

My college director caused me to both fear and respect him.  He was a taskmaster who had no problem telling you when you were being a weeny butt.  But he made band great. One of the greatest things he ever did for me however was when he showed up at my mother’s visitation, more than 30 years after I was in band.  He saw the last name in the paper and decided to pay his respects.  I think that’s why I love band/music so much.  It’s because no matter how long it has been or how far the distance, we will always be family.  And that’s why I encourage my band director husband to go to things like this Friday night pep band gig.

And truth be told, this is Nebraska Football.  It wouldn’t have mattered where we went to dinner on a Friday night, because someone would have lead the call and the restaurant would have responded.  If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em, right?  Go Big Red!

As each third grade class got ready to leave this week, I asked each of them to close their eyes and think of two things to share with the university students who had taught them the last several weeks.  The first was to think of something the students did well, something that would encourage them.  The second was to think of something that they thought the university students could do to improve their teaching.  While they were all good, and pretty insightful for 8 year olds, this one really struck me;

“You could improve on not being so shy, we are in third grade, we don’t care if you make mistakes”. 

Ah, out of the mouths of babes.  When did it become such a crime to make a mistake?  It doesn’t help that the media and social media are always analyzing people with a microscope, waiting like vultures for someone to make a mistake.  Mistakes sell. People seem to love it when others fail when the truth is, if we’re not making mistakes, we’re obviously not trying anything new or learning.

I noticed several years ago that my students seemed to be getting more and more afraid of making mistakes. Is it a result of all of the testing they have to do?  Possibly.  Is it because we tend to TEACH to the test?  Maybe.  All I know is that I had kids who were literally afraid of trying something new.  I had kids freeze up or burst into tears when asked to just try ANYTHING.  They wanted to know what the right answer was so that they wouldn’t make a mistake and look stupid.  The problem is, in improvisation for instance, there isn’t necessarily a right answer.  “Just tell me what to do!” they would say.  And all the encouragement in the world didn’t seem to make a bit of difference.  For the sake of not traumatizing these kids, I wouldn’t push them – Lord knows I didn’t want them to hate music on top of being afraid of trying it.

A lot of people feel like assessments, especially in music traumatizes kids all by itself.  I really believe that if you assess correctly, allowing for mistakes and for mistakes to be discussed and corrected that assessment can be life changing.  It should be more than just whether or not something is right or wrong.  It should be about progress and improving oneself.  It should be a way for someone to see if they are getting better at something, mastering a concept or skill.  It should be encouragement, not discouragement.

So, I made the conscious decision to make my room a safe place to make mistakes, including my own.  After all, what better way to demonstrate to kids that everyone makes mistakes than to admit when YOU make them, right?  And so I do.  And when I make a big mistake, I apologize and ask if I’m forgiven and they will say yes.  Which encourages them to do the same to others.  A lot of teachers are reluctant to assess a child’s singing because singing is something so personal and they don’t want the child to feel bad.  But I will tell you, that if you teach the kids in your class to learn how to help assess any problems as well, they will encourage their classmates to try something to make things better.  There is nothing better than to have a class full of kids giving suggestions to a classmate as to how they can raise their pitch.  They will suggest they sit up straighter and get more air or listen to the sound first in their head and then try again.  And they will applaud for them when they get it right.  If children can be taught to do that, why can’t some adults do that?

And so, the quote above for me is a beautiful thing.  It shows that my efforts may be paying off, that my kids not only see that it’s okay for them to make mistakes, but that they can encourage others not to worry about making mistakes as well.  It doesn’t matter that the university students are a decade older than them, my kids are beginning to understand that EVERYONE makes mistakes and that it’s okay.

Ten minutes.  I swear it was 10 minutes that I just stood in my closet staring at the rack of clothes.  No one human being should have this many clothes, and a person with this many clothes shouldn’t have to take 10 minutes to choose something to wear.  And yet there I stood, looking at the same clothes, trying to decide what could go with what and feeling completely overwhelmed.

Like a lot of things in my life, I have a love/hate relationship with clothes.  I love shopping for clothes, despite the fact that I hate how heavy I am right now.  I love a change in seasonal clothing but hate that it has to get cold to do it.  I tend to shop at only a few different stores for clothes; once I find something that works, I stick with it and they all seem to mix and match pretty well.  But today, despite a full closet of clean clothes, I couldn’t make a decision.

The overwhelm has hit a couple of times this week, first at school when I sat with my to-do list and had no idea where to start.  It was exactly like the closet, only I was staring at the list, debating on what was a priority (everything seems to be), and how much time I had to do it that morning.  I finally settled on one thing, which I completed, but that was only one thing checked off of the list.  And like the clothes, my to-do list is all related, but I could not get past feeling too overwhelmed to choose.

A friend of mine told me last night that she doesn’t see how I get everything done and the truth is, I’m just barely getting it done.  I have a list of events/trips/major assignments in chronological order with any minor details attached to it.  Kind of a double to-do list, if you will. I literally have four calendars so that I don’t miss something.  I have difficulty saying no to things and I have difficulty not creating more things to do on my own.  I’m making promises I either struggle to keep or haven’t kept but they’re still on the list. I WILL get them done. So, I’m finding myself becoming a bit of a grump this week, fighting what feels like yet another cold, and trying to juggle plates on top of balls on top of poles.  You get the picture.

I was thinking that perhaps I could adopt the philosophy of the Joy of Tidying to my schedule.  In that little book, it instructs you to let go of anything that doesn’t bring you joy.  I did it with my clothes about a year and a half ago and wow was it enlightening. Part of letting go means knowing what you give up can perhaps bring joy to someone else.  So, is there the possibility that I’m doing somethings that, if I gave it up, would bring someone else joy?  The problem with tidying up your life is that it affects other people.  If I should, for instance, give up teaching, a big chunk of our income is gone. This could definitely affect other people in my life.  Who am I kidding?  It would affect my clothes shopping for sure!

This afternoon I was talking to one of our long term subs whose last day is tomorrow.  I told him I was impressed with what he was able to do with our kids and that maybe next year there would be an opening where he could join us permanently.  He looked at me, smiled, said thank you, but that he wasn’t interested in a permanent position.  He liked the freedom of subbing.  He was able to leave at the end of the day and spend time with his kids rather than have to do assessments, sit through staff meetings and go to parent teacher conferences.  This was a guy who decided that his joy lies at home and he has made a decision as to how he deals with his job in order to have that joy.  I found that pretty impressive.

And what I’m saying isn’t any different for any other teacher.  At my school we will have our second evening of parent teacher conferences this week.  Several of us have had or will have practicum students to work with.  Grades are due in a couple of weeks.  There’s a late after school flex meeting coming up soon.  We’re all in the same boat.  I just have to decide where my joy resides and pursue that.

I had a couple of close friends suggest to me that I might be an author some day.  While I find it hard to believe that I write well enough to do a book, writing this blog has been a source of joy for me.  The dream of writing a book or writing for a living is wonderful.  Not that teaching isn’t or hasn’t been great, but it is not always the source of joy it has been in the past.  And quite frankly, I’m getting tired of standing in the closet trying to figure out what to do.  Maybe it’s time for me to do a little research and see how I can get out of that closet and find another source of joy.

Early afternoon on a beautiful fall day in New York City.  I’m getting ready to do the now  familiar walk from the Met to our hotel on our final day.  I love Lincoln Center during the day.  Parents walking their kids to school, students with instruments walking over to Julliard, dancers going to class, people hanging out at the fountain or under the trees eating lunch or drinking their coffee.  So as we walked past the building which houses the New York City Ballet, I noticed two policemen with automatic weapons, wearing kevlar vests watching the area.  Now, it’s not like I’ve never seen police in New York before.  They’re everywhere.  But there was just something wrong seeing them in front of the ballet.

Lincoln center is a mecca for beautiful music and dance.  With the opera, symphony and the ballet all together, at night it is a spectacle to see.  Men and women dressed to the nines side by side with students in their more casual attire entering the beautifully lit buildings to soak up the culture.  At capacity, you could expect 8,000-9,000 people attending nightly, and this doesn’t include employees, pedestrian traffic, etc.  So yes, it could be a target I suppose.  And alongside all of this beauty is the ugliness of guns, carried by men and women in order to protect those who seek the beauty.  Ironic, isn’t it?

Since getting back, a couple of people have asked me if anyone at our conference expressed concern in terms of safety after the Las Vegas shooting.  And you know, unless it was in some small side conversations, I did not hear any.  All I saw and heard were a very diverse group of people coming together, focused on learning about opera and how to get this wonderful art form to their students.  A wonderful microcosm of how life should and could be.

Within this diverse group are people from all areas of the country.  Young and old, male and female, gay and straight, democrats, republicans and independents, different religions, cultures, ethnicities, and educational backgrounds.  Some musicians, some not.  Teachers and administrators.  Those with a lifetime of experience with the genre, some with none. Based on what we see on the news everyday, there should have been no way we would have gotten along, right?  And yet, everyone worked together, helping each other work outside their comfort zones,  because for three days we all had the same focus and the same goal.  Our goal was to learn how to bring beautiful music to ALL children through the study of opera.

There was collaboration, cooperation, creativity, and communication through civil discussions.  All the things that adults should be able to do.  And yet, the guns remind us that some people have difficulty doing these things.  Those people allow the fear of diversity to get in the way of their understanding of that diversity.  And so they just fight it.  It’s so much easier to get angry than it is talking to and getting to know people I suppose.  When we had a problem with something, we spoke honestly to one another about it.  We had members of our group who shared personal aspects of their lives and teaching, sharing tears and laughter along the way.

I’m not sure why recognizing diversity is such a big deal anyway.  After all, we were all created to be unique creatures, none of us the same.  Sure we may have some similarities, some similar likes and dislikes, backgrounds and philosophies, but when it comes right down to it, we’re ALL diverse.  Would we really want it any other way?  How boring would THAT be?  Fear would prefer it be boring.  Bravery is when we are open to getting to know people who, let’s face it, are all going to be different from us, again because we are all unique.

So, while I am grateful for these men and women who, on a daily basis, are willing to give up their lives to keep those of us seeking beauty safe, it makes me sad that we have to be reminded of the fear and ugliness in the world in this way.  I’m grateful that I can teach the beauty of the arts to my students and show them that not everything in the world is scary and ugly.  And I’m grateful for the examples my colleagues demonstrated this past week, sharing themselves and accepting me for who I am.

 

 

 

 

We stood up as the two pretty blond women stepped in front of us to get to their seats next to us.  As they got themselves situated, the lady to my right asked me how I had talked my husband into going to this particular show.  (The show was “War Paint” – check it out). I explained he wasn’t my husband but a good friend and I hadn’t given him much choice honestly.  She then asked me where we were from, to which I responded, Lincoln Nebraska.  She hesitated, took a breath and said “Oh. (pause) I suppose someone has to live there.  We’re from SoCal.”.  Which for me completely explained the California blond look with the designer outfit, including jeans with designer rips and the blank valley girl looks on their faces.  Just kidding.  But had I perceived them the way they apparently perceived me, that’s what I would have said.

This isn’t the first time I’ve received this type of response from someone outside of Nebraska, especially as it pertains to either coast.  People in the middle of the country “get it”.  However, for those on the perimeters, the middle is apparently a wasteland, suitable only for gun toting farmers, corn, cows, and flyover country.  And I’ll be honest with you, I may have thought the same way before I moved here 17 years ago.  I mean, after all, New York is the “City that Doesn’t Sleep”.   Los Angeles is “The City of Angels”.  Boston is the “Cradle of Liberty “and San Francisco is the “Golden Gate City”.  My city of about 300,000 has no particular name, however, our state motto is “Nebraska Nice”.  Nice.  That’s it.  Nothing more.  Just “Nice”.

But you know, the longer I live here, nice pretty well describes it.  I’m not talking about the wind chill in the winter.  It will never be “nice”.  However, I have found the people to be amazingly nice.  And kind.  And thoughtful.  And selfless.  And hard working.  And it’s a great place to raise kids.  Seriously.  They take pride in their public schools here. And, as I look at it, it can be not so nice elsewhere.  Sure, the big cities have great arts venues and restaurants, but I can’t afford to live in most of them.  They’re exciting and energizing – to a point.  They’re great for a visit, but when it comes to actual “living”,  I now prefer going home to beautiful sunsets.

In fact, I believe the rest of the country could learn a little something from us.  The friend I was with holds a PhD and serves on a national board within his field.  As do I.  Not the PhD part, but I do have a college degree.  And we were in New York at the invitation of the Metropolitan Opera.  Educated. And our people have a social conscience.  We too hold protests against things we disagree with and for those things we support.  Peacefully.  We attend college football games where, win or lose, the home crowd applauds for the visiting team at the end of the game as they head to the locker room.  Nice.  Our state government is a unicameral which has one legislative chamber so that members must work together and not separate by party lines.  Not that they don’t disagree, but they have the freedom to work outside of party lines.  Collaboration.  People from Nebraska have become astronauts, presidents, billionaires, actresses, scientists, and musicians.  Achievers.  We have the 5th lowest unemployment rate in the country. Hard working.  Shall I go on?

And sure, there are more people in New York City than the entire state of Nebraska, but quantity doesn’t always mean quality.  Now, I shared that I am not a native Nebraskan, and during my life I have lived in eight different states and traveled to most of the others. And my idea of Nebraska was a little bit of wild west with lots of corn.  Well, there IS a lot of corn, and soybeans and more cattle than people.  But once I really met the people, a lot of my previous perceptions disappeared.

As an aside, let’s talk oh so briefly about politics.  Very briefly.  In looking at a map of the United States based on red or blue states (if you take these things into consideration), the vast majority of the map is red.  The right and left coast are blue with a few other things scattered in between.  This in itself tells me that we perceive life and people very differently depending on where we live.  And that in turn contributes to the misconceptions people have about each other.  Recently I had a friend who shared on social media that she sat next to someone who said something she disagreed with.  After a little hesitation, she spoke up about how she felt.  This person explained why he felt the way he did.  While they still did not agree at the end, they each expressed themselves and the why they felt that way.  I wonder what would happen if people in blue states would do that with people in red states.  A little like applauding those football opponents, even if we lose.  Relationships with all people should be bigger than politics.  Nice.

Now, I’m not sure I could convince someone from beautiful southern California that where I live is better than where they live.  I wouldn’t mind a little more warm weather and palm trees myself.  But if they wanted a good life with good people, I would no longer hesitate to suggest they stop just flying over Nebraska and maybe stop in and check us out.  Most people are surprised at just how nice it can be.

Today I did something I very rarely do.  I made the choice to be alone.  Now I suppose for most people, this wouldn’t be a big deal, but for an introvert, this was big, because it wasn’t just choosing to be alone.  It was telling someone that I needed to be alone.  There is always this fear that I’ll be disappointing someone or not fulfilling someone’s expectations of me if I’m honest in my need for solitude.  I didn’t even realize my own need for solitude until I talked with a highly brilliant man, Curt Liesveld, who informed me that my strengths necessitated the need for me to have this daily quiet time to think.

And so, when I come back from a conference, like I did this past week, where every minute of every day is filled with people and DOING, I tend to come home overloaded and drained because I haven’t had any time to process.  I learned from a Ted Talk by Susan Cain, that introverted doesn’t necessarily mean shy, as most people assume, but it’s how they need to process the world, and that means requiring quiet and solitude.

So imagine my delight when the facilitator of the conference confessed that she was an introvert and then, she REQUIRED us to have focused quiet times to think, process and reflect on a regular basis during this conference.  The first time was awkward, much like my first experience with a theater class (“now, walk around in a circle and become a tree”), because we had to close our eyes and think of a word for some experience.  But the more we did it, the more I appreciated it.  It really did help me focus on what we were doing and what I was learning from it.  In fact, I was so encouraged by someone who confessed to being an introvert and who recognized that there were more of us in the room, that I had to see her during a break and say thank you.  And our ensuing short conversation solidified for me that she completely understood.

She understood my apprehension of having to “do” in front of others when I would rather just write and think about it.  You see, most people have the mistaken perception that musicians, artists and actors are just naturally extroverts, hence their choice of career.  However, a third to half of all people are introverts, so unless we’re dividing by career choice, that includes anyone in the arts.

On the last day of the conference, we were introduced to rising opera star Golda Schultz from South Africa, who made her Met Opera debut the previous week.  Our facilitator, Susan, lead the conversation and we learned that Golda too, was an introvert.  In fact, she was so introverted, that in college, every time she had to get up and sing in front of someone, she fainted.  It lead her to believe that this was NOT the right career choice for her, but her teacher disagreed.  This teacher believed that Golda COULD do it and tried to help her by making her perform more often in order to help her get “used” to it.  They even went as far as to have people stand on either side of her to catch her when she fainted. But what these people didn’t understand is that being introverted isn’t something we can change, it’s who we are, and you can’t force someone to become used to something just through repetition.  There has to be a change in mindset or something the introvert does themselves that allows them to proceed with the “doing” that they’re so uncomfortable with.

What Golda says changed for her was realizing that “being afraid gets in the way of service”.  She believes that what she has is a gift that she can bring to people.  And, as a gift, people can take it or ignore it, keep it or give it away, they can love it or hate it, but the gift remains.  And she believes in gratitude.  Gratitude for the opportunities she’s been given, taking time to think and reflect on what she is allowed to do for a living.  And so she explained how she wills herself to slow down time, making eye contact and taking that time to thank as many individuals as she can during her journey, which in return, overloads her with joy.

And so I sit here on the chaise, typing this story in solitude, recalling how I shared the words that sprang to my mind when I was directed by Susan as to how the conference affected me personally.  And they were – No Words.  Because I had internalized so many wonderful ideas and emotions, seen old friends and met new ones, heard and made beautiful music, had thoughtful, insightful, honest conversations, stepped completely outside of my comfort zone and watched creativity unfold before my eyes.  There were just no words as I had the opportunity to process everything that had affected me emotionally during those four days.  It’s now a day after the conference and I’ve taken the time to process enough to write about it. And that’s okay, Because I’m an introvert.