Forever types

I think I have probably watched my video footage of classes, rehearsals, tour, and random moments at least a hundred times by now.  And I have flipped through the hundreds of pictures at least that many times.  I check my school email multiple times a day, hoping for an email from a student or a late piece of homework being turned in.  Half the time there is a message, half the time there isn't. 
Every memory... I want to desperately hold on to it.  I replay the funny parts, the sad and stressful parts, and those goose bump moments of pure magic over and over in my head.  I smile and laugh and sigh.

It has only been 9 days since I boarded a plane 5,000 miles away.  In that moment I felt so adult... doing what I was supposed to, facing the real world, being somewhat mature.  But never have I wanted to be a child more... and turn around and run back.  Leaving my kids and my brief teaching life was just about the hardest thing I have ever had to do.  It broke my heart.  My heart is still broken, and I am not sure how to pick up the pieces.  I know that God will guide and direct and heal, and that is a great comfort. 

In the last assembly I gave before coming home, I told the entire student body that 'I have the best life.  I have met you all'.  That still stands... meeting them... it rocked my world.  They changed me through their love, laughter, smiles, sadness, and humanity.  The seemingly endless five years of university prepared me for so many things in teaching, but never for falling in love with my students as a whole.  So many beautiful and brilliant people, filled with dreams and passions and talents.  Being with them for four months was unbelievably humbling. 

Many people tell me that there will be more students in my future and more love.  I know that.  And believe it.  But it doesn't make the broken heart heal any faster.  And I think in a sense, everyone is actually a bit wrong.  Because... these special people that I spend four months of my life with, will forever be in my heart.  They were my first real students with my first full lesson plans, and first full programs and first full tours and first full mess ups.... with them I experienced my first tears, fits of laughter, life stories, stacks of homework to grade, nervous moments before a concert, and heartfelt music making. 

Twenty years from now, I know I will still remember those sets of eyes twinkling with joy over music made, or the head thrown back in laughter, the tears running down a tired and confused face, or the moments where students told me how much they enjoyed learning from me.  Those are the forever type of memories.  I'm ever so grateful.  Even if I never see these precious people again, they will stay in my heart for the rest of my life.  That is what happens when people change you.

If.... Then... NEVER

I remember sitting in a classroom, discussing motivation and student learning.  I remember listening to and participating in a discussion in which the concept of bribery came up.  Bribery as in telling the student: “If you do this, then I will do that”.  Basically, if you work hard or pay attention or stop talking, then I will do ____(fill in the blank).  I clearly remember consciously vowing to NEVER bribe my students.  Because we should be able to find ways to intrinsically motivate.  The students should want to succeed from a desire within themselves and we as teachers should try and find ways to cultivate that.  Bribery often seems to put a Band-Aid on a constantly expanding issue.  And so, with that, I ruled bribery out of my future teaching. 

Enter my middle school choir of 40.  The first two weeks of rehearsal on my own were an absolute nightmare.  We barely learned any music, the talking and acting out was ridiculous, and students were showing up exceedingly late and without music.  My confidence in my ability to teach plummeted and I dreaded the following rehearsals, wondering how on earth they would ever have music ready for a concert.  Night after night I pondered solutions, nothing seeming to fit the situation.  It was obvious that the students were not going to behave just because they wanted to do music.  Finally, I thought perhaps I should ask the students. 

With that thought in mind, I ask for volunteers from the choir to be section leaders and after looking through the list I came up with six people (two per section) who I thought exhibited musicality, leadership, and focus.  I called them in for a section leader meeting a couple days later.  That meeting was the turning point!  I gave them jobs and we discussed goals for the choir as a whole.  I then asked the burning question.. “How do I get everyone to stop talking?”.  A section leader confidently said “Terror.  Rule with a fist of iron.”  And NO.  That would not be happening.  I laughed it off and asked for more suggestions.  With a bit of a sheepish grin another section leader said “Sweets.  We all would work well for sweets.”  I was shocked.  She wanted me to bribe the whole choir.  I gasped a little as I asked the other section leaders what they thought.  They all nodded their heads in agreement.  Five minutes later we had a plan.  Each of the three sections would compete against each other to win the candy (that I would buy every week) at the end of rehearsal.  Every student that did not have their music with them would give a point to the section and every time I had to ask a section to be quiet , would also add a point.  The section with the least amount of points would win the candy. 

That night I was hopeful for a change and very nervous for the next rehearsal.  When the time finally came I was ready.  The section leaders took charge right away and helped with set up, rosters, pencils, music and anything I needed.  We started more on time.  As we stretched in the warm up I explained the competition.  The students were abuzz with excitement at the prospect of candy.  Forty-five minutes later, the rehearsal ended.  I was astounded at the excellent behaviour and the amount of music we accomplished.  I had told various sections to be quiet a total of 12 times, which was a mind-blowing improvement from previous rehearsals.  The students had laughed and smiled, asked questions, and sang well.  The winning section was awarded the coveted candy and the students left singing to themselves causing other teachers to comment on the apparent joy that must have been experienced in choir. 

Since then, rehearsals have been fabulous.  The students are progressing at a rapid pace and I am buying more candy bars than I ever thought possible.    I realized that the students have had negative experiences with choir in the past and they simply didn’t have motivation or desire to be in choir because of previous associations.  Bribing them with candy works two-fold; first, they want the candy, so they work well... and second, they are seeing amazing success in their music when they focus and they are leaving happy and proud of their work.  Maybe if I was here for another term I would try to wean them off candy, but for now I am completely ok with bribing them.  I want them to create new associations with music... those of joy, community, hard work, fun, and excellent music that they create. 

Perhaps you still think that I shouldn’t have bribed them, and that is ok.  It is a concept that I still would like to avoid in general.  But, I have learned that it does have its place and role in teaching and can be a valuable tool in promoting and encouraging joy in learning. 

Tough Love

Teaching is fun, rewarding, hilarious, and life-changing.  

It also can break your heart. 

I walked into my Year 9 class excited to begin ground bass compositions.  I hadn't seen the students in over week due to the class cycle we teach on.  They had been given a simple homework task of completing a worksheet on melodies and harmonies.  The schedule for that day was to begin to notate those melodies and harmonies (along with a simple ground bass) into Sibelius.  In my mind I thought things would be easy and smooth.  Of course that isn't always the case, as I am quickly finding out.  

As I explained the rubric for the compositions I walked around, quickly observing that quite a few students had not completed the homework.  I was puzzled.  They had been set a simple task, I had sent them multiple messages saying I was available for extra help, and the previous lessons had been carefully scaffolded by another cooperating teacher and myself.  All the supports had been put in place.  And yet... the desired result was not there.  I asked several students why they had not completed the work and their reply was a noncholant "I didn't understand".  I felt rotten and was trying desperately to figure out why they just didn't complete the work.  

Then I realized that this was a deciding moment between my class and I.  This was when they figured out if I was in earnest or if I was wishy-washy.  I had to put my foot down.  In doing so, I knew I was risking their excitement and love for the new American teacher.  But, in the end, their learning is most important.  

I quickly consulted with the cooperating teacher and was told that they should be put in detention, per school policy.  Walking back to these students with this knowledge was horrid.  I did not want to relay this information.  I wanted to run away for a split second in order to avoid the confrontation.  But that isn't a real teacher.  Gently and sadly I spoke quietly to the students who had not completed their work, informing them of the impending detentions.  Their faces fell and anger flickered across their eyes.  My heart sunk further and further as I handed out a total of six detentions over those next few minutes.  

The class was abuzz with the fact that I had just handed out detentions, and I went to the front of the class with a heavy heart.  I stood there, waiting for the students to stop talking.  They knew something was up.  I began to cry as I told them how painful it was for me to give detentions.  They looked at each other in shock at my honesty.  I asked students to give suggestions about possible solutions to not understanding the homework. They all came to the conclusion that it was good idea to come see me for help or to email me.  We then went back to the lesson... my heart remained heavy.  

I didn't think it would be that hard.  It is so not fun.  But it isn't about you... it is about them and their learning and their character and their future.  As one of my professors said "Tough love is still love".  That was like balm to my soul.  I still love my students, no matter what.  And because of that love, sometimes I have to make decisions they don't like.  

Since then, their work has improved.  They are asking for advice and help all the time, and they are succeeding quicker.  I am grateful for the hard times in teaching, because so often their produce brilliant life lessons!

Thoughts of a student teacher

     

Over the last five years, I have doubted from time to time that I was meant to teach.  There would be 

moments where I felt so confident and other moments when I felt virtually incapable.  I think these moments will always go back in forth in life.  But I no longer doubt whether I was meant to teach or not.  

The last few weeks I have experienced my steepest learning curve yet.  I knew beforehand that this would happen, I just didn't have a clue as to how difficult it would be.  Everything from curriculum to lesson planning to weekly schedules to accomodating students with disabilities is vastly different and is discussed and referred to with different terminology.  

That first day of staff meetings was a blur with my head spinning as I desperately tried to grasp onto something familiar. At times I wondered if they actually spoke English.  I felt like a floundering fish with absolutely no idea what I was doing.  That only continued to build up during the first couple days of school.  Confidence took a nose dive, although I hid it under a layer of humor, smiles, and keeping "busy".  I honestly wasn't that busy, in fact, half the time I just sat look at a computer screen wondering what to type.  

If you know me and my personality, it tends to be go, go, go.... with very little rest and long lists.  That was rather opposite the first week of school.  Turtle speed.  And that irritated me and frustrated me to the point of tears.  The second week was better as I began to adjust and add to my role.  Every night I would drag home stacks of textbooks, perusing them, studying terms, looking at lesson plans, and googling more things than I thought possible.  (Thank you Lord for Google)  I asked questions, played music, analyzed, and worked hard.  I said yes to everything, and no to nothing.

This third week was a roller coaster of ups and downs, sucesses, failures, tears, smiles, and yet a settling somehow. The last three weeks have been some of the hardest for me.  Being in another country, away from family and friends, no longer a few feet away from professors' advice, and finally doing what I have trained so long to do has been an absolute adventure.  Harder than I thought, but ridiculously more rewarding.  Some thoughts so far...

1. Saying yes to everything doesn't always make you a better teacher.  

In fact it can have quite the opposite results.  Learning to take a step back and look at the whole picture and possible outcome is essential.  

2. Teaching means nothing if it is not about the students.

They are the reason for teaching.  You as the teacher aren't the reason.  It isn't about you.  It is about guiding them in learning and preparing them for life.  

3. You know more than you think and less than you think.  

Training and life experiences add up.  Being confident that you can handle something because of what you have learned is key.  And yet, it is so necessary to ask questions and seek guidance from many people.  Teaching is a team thing, not a solo one-man show. 

4. There is nothing quite like the sparkle in a student's eye when they understand a concept or successfuly complete a task or turn in a brilliant piece of homework.  

Even the little things are worth celebrating.  Applaud success, excellence and effort and encourage continuance. 

5. If you have, they have fun.  

But having fun does not equal no boundaries.  On the contrary, setting the boundaries from the start must happen, and even though the first bit may seem miserable, consistency pays off and the end result is well worth it.  

6. Even teachers have to stand up for themselves.  

Planning and organization are a must.  But so is knowing who you are and being real about your capabilities and needs.  To remain strong and sane you must be bold, honest, clear and gracious to those around you.  

More specifc stories to come.  

Cheerio y'a!

When God says... wait

June 30th....
Last day of June, almost July, partway through summer, a friend's birthday.

June 30, 2012
June 30, 2013

For the last two years, June 30th was a day of excitement and nerves.  In the afternoon I would roll a suitcase out of the house, kiss my sister goodbye, and get in the car for a drive to the airport.  I would walk onto an airplane bound for Costa Rica - a place near and dear to my heart.  Each summer spent in this beautiful country only made me fall in love with it more.
As a seven year old little girl, I remember thinking of Costa Rica as home.  Going back the last couple years has only deepened that feeling.  Don't get me wrong, I love my home and community in Washington, but Costa Rica is something else. I can barely describe it.  My heart longs to be there... living, serving, crying, laughing... just being.
Last night, I sat on my bed and cried.  Cried for happiness at the memories, cried because I was not there, cried for joy at what God is doing in that country, and cried just because God has said... wait.
I don't know for sure if I will go back permanently, but I hope.  It might be one of those things that God says no to, but it also might be something He says yes to.  Who knows!  I have to be ok with either answer.  I know He knows the desires of my heart, and I pray that no matter I will follow after Him.
Waiting is hard.  It kinda hurts... a lot sometimes.  Especially when you want something so bad.  But that is part of the adventure!!

June 30, 2014
I sit here... in the USA... thankful, trusting, wishing.  My heart is full, hurts a bit, yet rejoices that my God is bigger than anything life can bring.

My voice reveals who I am

As a music major and professional musician, your life is basically all music.  All the time.  You live in a constant state of learning, perfecting, performing, and accepting critique.  No sooner is one song learned, then it is on to the next.
Music comes from inside and expresses some of the deepest, most passionate, most loving, and most heart breaking emotions known to mankind.
When a musician performs a song or a piece, they are showing you their heart.  Watch closely and you will see it.  This is a truly vulnerable act and it takes great bravery.  I think most people don't realize this.  They often think we spend our lives practicing our music and that performing is easy.  For some it is, but all those years have entailed more than just practicing notes, fingerings, and technique.  We have established what music means to us, down to the very core of our being.  We know how we connect to the music emotionally and spiritually and how to relate our lives to what we play and sing.

As a singer, opening up my mouth and singing a song in front of other people is scary.  Honestly, it is often more scary than when I speak in front of a thousand people.  When you sing.. your voice is your instrument.  You can refine your technique and modify your vowels, but the instrument that you have is what you have.  There is no going back to the store and trading it out.  And so, singers accept critique from all over... learning how to apply it when necessary and how to let it roll off their backs at other times.

During my time in college, I have been in choir every single quarter and have taken voice lessons for a majority of that time.  Every quarter is a struggle to be confident, to challenge myself to even greater musical heights, and to continue strengthening my voice.  But each quarter is also a time where I once again open myself up and allow others into my heart through music.  Sometimes it doesn't go so well, sometimes it is absolutely uplifting.

I have noticed something though, that so often my fellow musicians, as well as myself, tend to base our definition of success upon what other people think or don't think.  If we make it into a certain ensemble or perform a certain piece, then surely we must be good.  But if we don't make it in, or we don't get to sing a certain song... then how easily we assume that we are a failure.  And then we fall into wallowing and depression.  I have seen this in my own life, time and time again.  The pain that happens after a perceived rejection.  Because for some reason we automatically assume that we were not chosen because we are not good.

This is heart wrenching, exhausting, and wrong.  I like to think that we are each unique in our musicianship, therefore we have certain niches to fill.  Notice I said certain niches, NOT all niches.  When we place every ounce of energy and emotion into one thing, eventually it will hurt us.  Hence the need for balance... especially in our identity.  Why can't we just sing and perform for the sheer love of music?  It doesn't happen every time, that is for sure, but in our seriousness and level of commitment to our art, we forget.  We forget about the carefree moments that music brings, we forget the sheer joy we experience during our favorite phrases in a song, and we forget that music is a universal language that others watch and understand and desperately want to connect to.

And so, next time you hear someone playing their instrument or singing, stop a moment and look for their heart, and thank them for being willing to share their gift with others.
And to my music friends, remember what true success looks like.