Success in the Kitchen Again

After the wreck in 2014, I was on a feeding tube that sustained me for months. Eventually they began feeding me soft foods, and I had to figure out how to deal with the sensation of a hard spoon in my mouth and the new issue of getting the food off it while juggling swallowing and breathing. Then came the problem of liquids….starting with straws and then graduating to sips from a glass. Slowly, more substantial foods started appearing in front of me. When I came home, I existed until meal time. Being helped to the table and working to feed myself was my next challenge.

Planning and executing my own menus was a laughable thought then. I didn’t feel hunger. At all. Nor was I aware of feeling full. I ate whatever was in front of me at mealtimes.

Fast forward to now, 9 years post-injury. I’m aware of hunger and saiety. I function vastly more independently, although still within my limitations. One of my hobbies now is cooking and trying new foods, but I’ve had to make a lot of adaptations to be successful. I thought it was time I shared a few of them.

Let’s get into it:

First, sit down with the recipe and really study it. Think about yourself in the kitchen—what will be the challenges? Do the directions make sense to you? Be extra sure you’re reading the recipe in its entirety. Brain injury often causes us to miss things or be overly optimistic about our abilities. Do you think you grasp the process? Obviously if it’s a familiar recipe, one you have made “post injury” the logistical questions don’t apply, but the preparation and thinking time always do. Just because you were familiar with the recipe in the “before” time doesn’t mean you won’t have to relearn how to make it. It will just make the process quicker.

Do whatever it takes to make the recipe work for you, whether that’s color coding, using sticky notes to just see the next step, or totally retyping the recipe and printing it out in a bigger font and then writing notes on that. I do any and all of these.

Set out everything you’ll need. Ingredients, measuring utensils, graters/mixers/spoons/knives/whisks or anything else. Prepare your pan or baking dish. Make sure you have everything. Re-read the recipe while you study your ingredients. If it helps, make a list and check things off.

Measure and pour things into separate bowls. Do you remember watching those cooking shows where the chef just assembled all the ingredients from the separate dishes? Ever thought about how many dishes that would be? Well, guess what: you get to be that chef now!

Begin the process. Break down the recipe into steps. Take frequent breaks to let your mind recalibrate and rest. During these breaks do your dishes, take a walk, do something else That’s OK. Some of the more complex things I do over two or three days.

The first step is to measure each ingredient, put it into a dish and PUT THE CONTAINER AWAY immediately. If your counter is empty, you’ve added the ingredient. Never ever try to cheat on this step. I’ve tried to rush before and regretted it. Don’t be afraid to narrarate things out loud….I find this brings clarity and assists my memory. Say things like “now I’m whisking the two eggs” or “I’m adding the 1 tsp of baking soda,” just as if you were explaining to a watcher. Try to minimize the total number of steps at the end by combining things that go together in yet another bowl. For instance, measure and stir together the dry ingredients or whisk the eggs and add vanilla or other spices to the same bowl if possible. Try to simplify the final cooking as much as possible to not overwhelm your poor brain with too many small tasks.

Again, take frequent, planned breaks. I can’t emphasize the importance of this enough. Physical activity also helps your brain function. When you return, read the recipe from the beginning again. See if it all still makes sense to you. Things often look very different to me with repetition.

Try to focus on just this dish. DON’T try to multitask and cook two things at once, unless you’re far advanced. I’m frequently tempted and start to hurry but that’s where mistakes happen. Missing an ingredient, leaving the stove on too long…..anything can go wrong.

What are your limitations? Can you chop things? Can you put things in and out of the hot oven by yourself? I couldn’t do any of this the first years. I still need help sometimes, so that adds the additional step of planning when my husband will be available. This ends up helping in another way, because I need to talk the process through with another person. Brain injury doesn’t improve our executive functioning process!

A note about safer chopping: Try to choose smaller thinner produce when possible. I buy small sweet potatoes, thin carrots, little onions. Our son gave me a chopping glove. Still I need my husband to chop some things like apples. He sometimes does this the night before and we put them in the refrigerator for me to use the next day. The tomato tart in the picture below was a team effort. My husband sliced the tomatoes and placed the puff pastry on the pan. I was able to do everything else.

The crockpot saved my life so many times, especially those first years. Your slow processing is not any issue at all with a crockpot recipe. It’s a very forgiving appliance.

Now we cook a lot of foods that are recommended for brain health and body health, which is a different way of cooking for me. I always cooked a lot (with four kids), and while I tried to serve a vegetable and fruit for every meal, I didn’t concentrate on whole foods and multiple veggies at a meal. Often we have meals with just vegetables and fruits. I’ve even branched out into tofu and all sorts of stir fries. I still can’t do the final quick stir fry, but I can prepare any needed sauce and all the other things that we’ll need.

I use lots of fresh herbs and spices. The nutrients, the freshness, and especially the aromas are great medicine for the brain. A well-balanced diet makes such a difference in your daily functioning. And try dressing in active wear when you can…you’ll be astounded at the difference it makes in your motivation. Dressing in a yoga outfit leads me to do different poses all day. Putting on joggers keeps me stepping and stretching in the kitchen. Research says that dressing the part increases your activity level. I also have a lavender full-body apron that I always cook in now. It makes me feel good.

You have to get over your preconceived notions of “being a good cook ” and just focus on the result. There will be ridiculous constant messes. You’ll NOT look like a good cook at any time except hopefully the end when you’ve cleaned up yourself and your kitchen and see the final product, and THAT might look weird. But no matter. You learned in the process, and hopefully ended up with something good to eat…whatever it looks like.

A few years ago I signed up for a cookie decorating class at our library. I wasn’t under any illusions that I would be good at this, but I saw it as a fun (and tasty) way do get more Occupational Therapy. You picked up the precut cookies, frosting tubes and necessary sprinkles and then watched the video at home. It took a lot of pausing and rewinding, but these are my finished products. Although they’re totally unlike the goal, I thought the fun colors and sprinkles looked good. I’m just not going to show what they were supposed to look like. Clean-up was certainly more fun than usual.

So whatever stage of recovery you are, don’t be afraid to take the tiniest steps toward success. You know how they say “start small?” That term is continuously refined after brain injury. Getting your own cracker and successfully taking a bite and swallowing it can be an oh-so-sweet move toward being more independent. Woo hoo!

The Wisdom of Seuss

The Zax

by Dr. Seuss 

From The Sneetches and Other Stories 

Copyright 1961 by Theodor S. Geisel and Audrey S. Geisel, renewed 1989. 

One day, making tracks
In the prairie of Prax,
Came a North-Going Zax
And a South-Going Zax.

And it happened that both of them came to a place
Where they bumped.  There they stood.
Foot to foot.  Face to face.

“Look here, now!” the North-Going Zax said, “I say!
You are blocking my path.  You are right in my way.
I’m a North-Going Zax and I always go north.
Get out of my way, now, and let me go forth!”

“Who’s in whose way?” snapped the South-Going Zax.
“I always go south, making south-going tracks.
So you’re in MY way!  And I ask you to move
And let me go south in my south-going groove.”

Then the North-Going Zax puffed his chest up with pride.
“I never,” he said, “take a step to one side.
And I’ll prove to you that I won’t change my ways
If I have to keep standing here fifty-nine days!”

“And I’ll prove to YOU,” yelled the South-Going Zax,
“That I can stand here in the prairie of Prax
For fifty-nine years!  For I live by a rule
That I learned as a boy back in South-Going School.
Never budge!  That’s my rule.  Never budge in the least!
Not an inch to the west!  Not an inch to the east!
I’ll stay here, not budging!  I can and I will
If it makes you and me and the whole world stand still!”

Well…
Of course the world didn’t stand still.  The world grew.
In a couple of years, the new highway came through
And they built it right over those two stubborn Zax
And left them there, standing un-budged in their tracks.

Sound like anyone you know right now?

A Toast to Juneteenth

I’m a little late making my first strawberry soda this year. But better late than never, that is definitely my motto! And it is SO delicious!

Time now to sip it while reading from Clint Smith’s poetry collection…what a good day. I acknowledge that I am one of the lucky ones to have this time and place, and I am extremely grateful!

Blessings to all of you today

Both at Once

This year had all the makings of a kinda tough year for me.  NOT tough in the sense of many people, with the financial strains or child-rearing stresses or anything like that, but in the sense of social isolation.  So I talked to God about it…a LOT….and asked Him to not only help my circumstances (again!) but to maybe do a little remodeling on me while He was at it.  And both have started happening, just as usual.

I’m sure you’ll be hearing more about this later, but I’m taking a year-long Zoom class, facilitated by a good friend and former pastor (who is now in Portland) called The Journey.  I simply cannot do large Zoom meetings anymore because of my severe dyslexia and brain injury, so my former bible study is now not an option for me (it ballooned to over 70 lovely ladies when it moved online), but this is much more intimate and always the same group so I’m handling it very well so far. Plus when we do eventually break into smaller chat rooms, it will be in a calmer situation which will allow me the time to find the buttons I need, remember what we’re talking about, and not freeze in panic. Hopefully everyone there will be acquainted with more of my situation by then.  Formerly, in such a large group, every week it was a different grab bag of women I didn’t know, and I’m still not very good at just reading faces or thinking quickly under duress.  I was beginning to always end up in tears.  Now  I can simply focus on the subject matter instead of the medium getting in my way.  I certainly have a much more visceral understanding of my former dyslexic students before!

As you can probably tell, I don’t seem to be adapting particularly well to my newish world of being seen as pretty bad at everything.  But that’s another story.    Apparently God has got quite a project to do with me here as well….

Anyway, this was in our text this week, and I felt it spoke to my situation just beautifully.  And, really, probably everyone’s situation.

“The question is not whether the things that happen to you are chance things or God’s things because of course they are both at once.  There is no chance thing through which God cannot speak–even the walk from the house to the garage that you have walked ten thousand times before, even the moments when you cannot believe there is a God who speaks at all anywhere.  He speaks, I believe, and the words he speaks are incarnate in the flesh and blood of our selves and of our own footsore and sacred journeys.  We cannot live our lives constantly looking back, listening back, lest we be turned to pillars of longing and regret, but to live without listening at all is to live deaf to the fullness of the music.”

                                                                                                                                                                          Frederick Buechner

Amen.

Speak

There is a time for everything under heaven, Ecclesiastes says.  This is my time to speak, and speak clearly.

 

Two months ago I wrote a long, passionate post about the desperate need to push back the start of physical in-person school for several weeks.  Enough time to allow several things to happen:  the summer peak in Covid to start safely trending downward again, our schools…and the experts in education that are in every school in the state to draw up a plan for every subject,  grade, and room in every building.  And for people to start inventing things that literally did not exist two or three or four weeks ago, and start producing them in enough quantities for our schools to have them on hand to safely open.

 

But I never published.  When I was writing, there was still a chance of doing things differently, of getting this right.  Not the way we wanted it ultimately, but what was best for this moment in time.  Then our governor slammed that door shut and yanked control away from local school districts across the state.  And our local school district all alone as far as I  know, decided to go back with no changes at all.  8-period days, same start date.  Just allow some students and parents to opt for the online only version. All the mitigation things the teachers are doing in their classrooms are hard to control when all the students are in every hallway multiple times every day.  To be fair, they have tried to create one-way lanes in the hallways but they refused to stagger passing periods.

 

 

So for us the time for for thinking of “what could be” was finished.  We were left facing a locomotive coming at us at top speed, and needed to both plan for it, try our best to stay positive and be as excited as we could be for the kids that were coming back.  I needed to create a safe, calm place for Marty to work and plan in  to enable him to do his job which is creating a fun, safe, calm, stimulating area for his students to thrive.   He was, and is, under a tremendous amount of stress at the thought of the probability of bringing the virus home to me.

 

The utter inadequacy of the “mitigation measures” talked about by our Governor and listed on the district website, especially when it comes to band, I won’t delve into here.  Suffice it to say words can be very misleading until you are actually there.  Desperately needed sanitation supplies to keep students AND teachers safer were not adequately planned for and simply not there in time.  Student computers did not arrive on time, and teacher training on them has been extremely rushed and piecemeal.  It did not have to be this way.  Someone could have listened.

 

Here’s some  of what I had previously written:

 

 

“The purpose of an education is to replace an empty mind with an open one.      Malcolm S. Forbes

The only thing that interferes with my learning is my education.    Albert Einstein

 

I want to open by saying that “School” is not the only place where “Education” happens.

 

With that said,  I love schools.   I’ve dedicated my entire life them.  After my accident in 2014, when I could finally get back to volunteering to listen to first graders read, in our school, it felt incredibly like I had come home.  But I also see that when we get those two concepts confused, our thinking gets muddled.  The concept of “education” is much larger than our modern schools.   As one columnist said recently, “Socrates never stood at a white board and lectured, and some of his students turned out rather well.”

 

I deeply love the entire process of education, seeing young minds grow and expand.  Sometimes “school” and “education” are synonymous; sometimes, sadly, what happens in a school interferes with an education.  Theoretically, in these modern times, highly trained professionals gather together during the day to work with young people, teaching them academic subjects, and in general, opening the world to them.  This, when it works well, can be a very beautiful thing.

Most of our family, for two generations, has been deeply involved in schools and education, in different subjects, at all levels.   When we get together, often that is how we “geek out.”   When Covid-19 started rapidly reconfiguring things around the world, as every day was different, in different regions, we were hard-pressed to keep up with what was happening in our particular communities; what was wise, what was recommended, and to rapidly consider all the implications for our own particular situations.  Given that the information being collected was also changing daily, it was, and is still a monumental task.

 

For better or worse, our schools are now responsible for not only the academic success of young people, but also for day care, social work, special education,  health care, and food service on a very grand scale.   Our schools are held responsible for alleviating all sorts of social ills, and frequently there are societal disputes about how those should be handled.  “In loco parentis is defined as “when minor children are entrusted by parents to a school, the parents delegate to the school certain responsibilities for their children, and the school has certain liabilities.”  This doctrine has for years been broadening.  Now, it seems, more people see the school as responsible for the things that may have started out as merely secondary.   “School” shutting down, for many people, means no day care and no meals, which is the first effect they feel.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The academic component of schools is increasingly further and further down the ladder now of why they “need to be physically open.  At Governor Reynold’s press conference yesterday, a reporter asked the question “what happens now that teachers have been classed as ‘necessary” workers’?   Will they be forced to continue working if they test positive, but are asymptomatic?”

 

She then proceeded to give the most astounding performance I’ve personally ever witnessed.  I always assumed the best of people, and early on we felt she was avoiding the civil unrest we were seeing in other states and making decisions we didn’t always agree with personally, but we tried to believe she had good intentions.  But this:  she turned, bent a little, changed her tone of voice, and made a speech that belonged on a Hallmark card.  It was all about how everyone knows that teachers were always essential to the wellbeing of children, as a safe place for them to be, to get fed, to have abuse reported, to be protected.  I listened in increasing horror as she not only did not answer his question, which told me the answer must be “yes”, but she never ever listed what the #1 goals of schools were;  to educate children.  It’s blatant in Republican politics now:  schools must open to get daycare for parents so parents  can get back to work.

 

I am a Republican.  Rather, I was a Republican.  This blog is not political.  I don’t believe the Democrat Party has the entire hold on truth either.  But my Republican Party was all for fiscal responsibility and local control .  Now it  has radically forsaken those two precepts.  It is now the most virulently pro-gun,  anti-immigration, anti local control if it doesn’t agree with those things, that we have ever seen.  And my  dear GOP has become anti-teacher and anti-education and anti-public school.   Gradually public schools and teachers have become the enemy.  We see it in the rhetoric and  writings.  It seems far more interested in waging a culture war than it is in actually governing, or in building any semblance of unity.  This makes me unbearably sad and weary.

 

So when the Wall Street Journal trumpets  “online learning did not work at all”  there are so many things wrong  with such a blanket statement it’s hard to know where to start to dispute it.

 

Given the tremendous, overwhelming tasks our schools were faced with, in such a crisis timeline, with ever-shrinking tax revenue (continually posed as tax “increases”) I feel it was a rousing success and one worthy of praise, not screaming headlines of criticism.  What do we want from our school?  We need to make some tough decisions.  Perhaps some things need to be separated in this country.  Marty and I went to school as musicians, and decided to be teachers.  Daycare was never our first aim.  That’s not to say that it’s not direly important and necessary, it just was not our call nor any other music teacher we know.  The majority of teachers in Waukee now have their Master’s Degrees.  I feel that priority has gotten buried in all the other tasks schools are responsible for now.  Nor really most teacher that we know:  the vast majority of them are experts in their subject field, and passionate about leading young people toward that passion.

 

 

Distance learning wasn’t given a fair chance in 3 months.  We were learning every day what worked and what didn’t; parents were learning; students were learning; it is undeniable that it did not work very well for most students.  But  some students excelled that hadn’t in the physical classroom.  Our district was not even a 1-to-1 district with technology last spring:  now it is.  There were huge inequities in internet accessibility, device availability, and student/teacher mastery of software, just for starters.  We have made huge strides in these months.

 

In recent years, there were increasing disruptions in classrooms.  Entire classrooms where I volunteer would have to file out, leaving a screaming student  inside,  occasionally throwing desks, alone with their teacher,  until help could come.  Every few weeks this would happen, just in my wing.  My own daughter, who taught fourth grade, let her contract lapse after this spring.  When school went online, she loved teaching again.

 

 

What we had was not all that great.  It was good, but we could always do better.  We are preparing our students for a future we cannot even imagine, after all, with  just the tools we have right now.  It’s quite a challenge.  Our world changes faster all the time.  Our students are in school for an average of 13 years.  Who can picture the world they will inherit?

 

 

 

I’m just asking here for a breath of time.  The world seems filled with realists that will say “that’s not how it works.  We have deadlines.”  Well, the coronavirus stopped some of those “deadlines” for a while.  Some of us are not OK.  Terrible things have happened, here in our country and all around the world.  But make no mistake:    the educational system in America did not crumble.  Let’s don’t waste this opportunity, because that’s exactly what it is.  An opportunity that we hopefully will not get again.

 

 

A good friend of ours, Patrick Kearney, is a band director in the near-by school district of Johnston, Iowa.  He has held numerous prestigious positions, but is back now where his heart has always been apparently:  middle school band.  He blogs eloquently as a great advocate for the arts and, especially, instrumental music.  This is his latest article in its entirety:

 

 

 

Dear Governor R…nope, I can’t do it.

Many of my posts take the form of an open letter to elected officials.  Over the course of the last couple of weeks I’ve started and quit on several letters to Iowa governor Kim Reynolds.  Usually my letters are an attempt pass on my perspective as a veteran (old) teacher to government officials who aren’t particularly connected with what is happening in our public schools.  I would describe the tone of most of my letters as “snarky”.

As I attempted to write a letter to Ms. Reynolds regarding her decision to take away local control from Iowa’s schools in order to force students and teachers back into their classrooms full time in the midst of a pandemic, I couldn’t get the tone right.  My letters take on serious topics, but come from the place of a teacher speaking to power with a little humor thrown in.  You might say my letters are an attempt to figuratively punch upwards.  My problem with a letter to Ms. Reynolds right now is that it feels like taking shots at someone who is simply not up to her job in this moment.  To address her personally and point out all of the things that she is doing wrong just felt like piling on a person who is being overwhelmed by her job and the challenges facing our state.   And so, instead of a letter to Ms. Reynolds, I’ll just share my thoughts as a sweaty middle-aged band director looking at going back to school very soon.

First, no one wants to return to “normal” school more than teachers.  More than anything we want to be learning with our students face to face.  With that being said, we want our students to be safe.  Much has been said in recent weeks about the critical role that schools play in keeping our students safe, well fed, and emotionally healthy.  That is because when students start their school day, they are surrounded by bus drivers, secretaries, associates, nurses, custodians, cafeteria workers, and teachers who care about them and serve as their advocates.  In this moment, our students need advocates.  When we have a billionaire Amway salesperson (I’m talking to you Betsy) trying to tell us that children are “stoppers” of Covid-19 (https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/2020/07/23/devoss-claim-that-children-are-stoppers-covid-19/), someone has to stand up to advocate for the truth.  Young people are getting sick and they are spreading the virus.   Teachers aren’t willing to stand by and pretend, as some have suggested, that this pandemic is going to magically disappear.  There is no doubt that putting kids back into schools, where social distancing is essentially impossible, will result in an increase in the spread of the virus.

As we think about advocates for our young people, it seems to me that those who know what is best for our students and our schools are those who live in our communities. The parents, school boards, administrators, and teachers in each community know the specifics of their school district’s buildings, schedules, and risk-tolerance.  Kim Reynolds asked every district in the state to develop three distinct plans so that schools could be ready with multiple options this fall.  Educators spent hundreds of hours developing plans to be ready for a variety of contingencies, only to have her announce on July 17th that, in many cases, two thirds of the plans that she asked districts to formulate were suddenly “illegal”.

Iowa teachers have lived in a world where we have had our bargaining rights stripped away by legislative Republicans, we have seen public school budgets fail to keep up with rising costs, and we have suffered the indignity of having a U.S. Department of Education Secretary who has no qualifications worthy of that role.  We are used to not being heard by elected leaders in our state, but we must be heard now.  As we watch schools across the country opening and then immediately shutting down again (https://www.nytimes.com/2020/08/12/us/georgia-school-coronavirus.html), it will be school employees who will be taking the risks associated with school return and it will be teachers who have to raise their voices in order to insure the safety of our students.

My colleague Andrea Ward wrote an excellent article that explains the bad conversations that are happening around the return to schools (https://www.usatoday.com/story/opinion/voices/2020/07/28/reopening-schools-covid-19-wrong-conversation-coronavius-column/5520523002/). To me, Andrea’s most important point is that people on both sides are pretending like this is an easy decision.  It’s an incredibly complex decision that is best made by decision makers at the local level.  Having a governor (and a president…and secretary of education) who pretend as though this is easy and without massive risk makes our return to schools much more difficult.

Governor Reynolds approval rating on her response to Covid 19 is the lowest in the country (https://www.kcrg.com/2020/08/02/approval-of-gov-reynolds-handling-of-coronavirus-worst-in-nation-survey-finds/).  No one should be surprised by that.  It’s difficult to approve of a leader who basically does nothing.  It’s difficult to approve of a leader whose response to this pandemic is that she hopes people “do the right things” and seems to believe the virus will magically disappear.

Teachers don’t want to be martyrs.  Teachers want nothing more than to see our students and learn along side of them as soon as possible.  There are those who are promoting a narrative that teachers don’t want to go back for a variety of reasons that are all wrong (and too ridiculous for me to name).  To my teacher friends, we need to keep raising our voices.  This isn’t the time to be silent (I’m frankly embarrassed at how silent I’ve been).  We look out for our students each and every day, and they need us now more than ever.  It is too late to hope our governor will act in the interests of a safe return to schools, so we have to take care of our students and take care of each other.  We should trust teachers.  It’s that simple, trust teachers.

Our school superintendents and principals worked endless hours this spring, summer, and this fall.  A huge amount of responsibility and worry is  on them for everyone’s safety.  They have been expected to be selfless in not thinking of themselves or their families through this, yet some of them have children themselves and are facing tremendous concerns.  They greatly deserve our thanks and prayers, not continued criticism and scorn.

Growing Souls Through Music

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I have never really thought of myself as just a choir teacher, although that was definitely a part of what I did.  Maybe my years working in church, sometimes at the same time as I was teaching, helped me see my teaching job as much more.  I always felt that every teacher, whatever his/her subject, through our main passion, were helping children and young people to grow to be passionate, productive, fulfilled members of a communal society.  By being strong individuals in a choir, I felt that they could learn to work together to create something beautiful, beyond the sum of the individual parts.

 

 

I used to have a love/hate relationship with parent-teacher conferences.  Getting to know the parents, who are still some of my best friends, was absolutely wonderful.  But hearing some of their reasons for wanting their kids to participate in choir was ……pretty painful.

 

 

A few of them would scoff openly and say, “well, of course he/she will never be a music teacher!  You guys don’t make any money!  But often their next words would be “I really loved music groups in high school, and I want him/her to have the same experiences.”  So there was that.  I didn’t mention that, to me, I was making more money as a full-time teacher than I ever had before in my life.  I couldn’t face any more pitying looks.

Or  the irate parents who would come in and demand “how on earth is my kid flunking MUSIC of all subjects! ”   Ifelt like saying “I have no idea.  I suppose you have to really, really try.”  But I could not.  I had to be more circumspect, and still basically get across the same message.

 

But I couldn’t help being insulted all the same, by the implication that “music” was the easiest thing in the world.  And, maybe in the day when they had gone to school, it had been treated that way  I had no way of knowing.  I just knew in my classes, there weren’t very many failing grades, but there were a fair number of D’s, a lot of C’s and B’s, and several A’s.  But it was not at all a given that everyone would get an A, not ever.

 

 

And there was the attitude of a very few of my fellow teachers through the years, including this memorable exchange with a math teacher:  “She was so smart, I could hardly believe she was a chorus teacher!”  Excuse me?  And you’re telling this to me, a fellow “chorus teacher?”  So what exactly does that mean you think about MY IQ?

 

 

 

Talk amongst yourselves while I take some deep breaths.  Thank goodness these people were the very rare exceptions!  By and large, over the years, I got far more credit than I felt I deserved, both from my students, the parents, and the other teachers.

 

 

Just a couple of years ago, across my state American Choral Directors email network, came the news of the death of one of our members.  This was printed in her funeral bulletin.

 

That is why we teach music. 
Not because we expect our students to major in music. 
Not because we expect them to play or sing all their life. 
Not so they can relax. 
Not so they can have fun. 
But so they will be human. 
So they will recognize beauty. 
So they will be sensitive. 
So they will be closer to an infinite beyond this world. 
So they will have something to cling to. 
So they will have more love, more compassion, more gentleness, more good – – in short, more life. 
Of what value will it be to make a prosperous living unless you know how to live? 

That is why we teach music                    Author unknown

 

 

 

 

 

T

Starting Out

 

 

I suppose I should finally come clean about my first foray into teaching.  We were living in Long Beach, California.  Remember that I had gone to an extremely small midwestern school.

 

That was back in the days of junior highs.  The man who interviewed me described the job as follows:  there were 5 ensembles (out of 6- period days), and 2 of the classes were “performing arts.”  He had no idea what those were, but thought it was some kind of movement and music.  He assured me that I would be fine.  I know now….famous last words.

 

 

 

All new teachers to this district had to do 4 days of “gang training.”  That in itself was terrifying to me.  They explained which gangs were currently “at war”, and not to seat those kids near each other in the classroom.  So, besides voice parts and dealing with putting  my non-English speaking students next to a bilingual student, I would have to factor this in.  Some of these gangs had more people than my entire town had growing up.  But wow  When I looked at my starting salary versus what I was making as a admin aide, there was no backing out.  Plus we had just signed a lease on the cutest little house!  I just had to get my little girl into a house with a yard. And I was young, with unstoppable energy.

 

 

 

 

Then came my first day of class.  I was all dressed up, standing outside, waiting nervously.  My first class was seventh grade girl’s choir. 76 seventh grade girls were registered.  I was just sure they would come to love me.   The first girls saw me, and burst into tears.

 

That wasn’t quite how I was I was picturing this.  As that day wore on, through questioning the kids, I found out that their previous teacher had, just two weeks before  been offered a position at the local high school.  She hadn’t had a chance to warn them that she wouldn’t be back.   And I gathered that they had really adored this teacher.  Her daughter was in the 9th grade “performing arts” class.  All day I was met with hysterical tears, refusals to come into my room, and hostile kids.  And what had been vaguely described as “movement and music” turned out to be advanced jazz, ballet, and tap two days a week.  The previous teacher had choreographed all their routines.  School in LA didn’t start until September, and our first concert, a musical that SHE ALWAYS WROTE BUT HADN’T STARTED YET (as well as arranging most of the music) was scheduled for late October. It had already been announced to the kids as a really fun mash-up of “The Wizard of Oz, meets Little Shop of Horrors.”    Thankfully I was too young, new, and dumb to know what was truly beyond me. My principal said I had zero budget.  I used to be a total rule follower.  So I got to work   *

 

And I did what any self-respecting young woman in a real bind would do.  Who already had a toddler at home.  I immediately got pregnant.  So…….there I was, taking tap dancing lessons, pregnant, in front of a row of young women, doing very authentically heavy  buffalos.  Sort of helped me develop my sense of self-effacing humor.

 

 

 

On another note…..lunch rooms in Long Beach were all outside.  Lunch duty entailed standing outside, supervising the students, very much like here.  But.after after the last lunch shift of the day, you would hose down the tables to discourage the circling sea gulls.  I simply never got used to that.  It was just so cool.

 

 

*    Huh.  Until I started writing this, I had never really put together how I was really set up for failure my first year.  I don’t think there was anything malicious in the that teacher’s lack of planning  for her choir’s future:  possibly she really always had been that extremely awesome and just assumed they would hire someone as awesome to follow her.  Maybe.  What I do know is that she had crafted that program to be tailored uniquely to her talents, unliked any other school in the district.  What were the chances that someone else could follow that?    But it’s possible.

 

 

A Garden of Music

 

 

I was sorting through old pictures on my phone today, and lots and lots of them are of flowers, or me with my students, or with the conductors that I have accompanied for.  And as I was browsing through them, a sudden thought struck me.  It seems that all my life I have been a gardener, just with different materials.

 

Gardening in my flower beds, gardening in my choirs.  Helping both grow.

 

 

Flower gardeners are always on the search for flowers that thrive where they are planted, that are an interesting height, shape, or color, and flowers that, when seen together, create a pleasing whole.  My particular goal  with my gardens have been to sprinkle in enough  annuals to have some constant bloom, but mostly I concentrate on perennials. Plants that come up, year after year, and every year they are more mature, stronger, better able to endure whatever life throws at them.

 

Wherever we went, my family would always visit the gardens to walk around and gather ideas.  I personally would walk quickly through the  mansions to get out to the gardens.

 

 

And I found the same joy in music.  I was definitely not interested in becoming a concert pianist.  The lonely hours alone in a practice room were not for me, although I loved going to concerts to be inspired by the musical excellence.  No, I loved the give and take of working with another artist or choir.  Maybe I had the talent to make it in piano, but I’ll never know.  I definitely did not have the inclination. Collaboration  has always been how I function.

 

 

 

So I thrived on working with choirs.  I spent years working in middle school, which was just endlessly fascinating to me.  Very much  like being given a new flower bed, just ready for you to plant.

 

 

Here is an example of who might show up that first day of class:   Several beefy, hairy taller guys with clear adam’s apples;  some more guys nowhere near puberty who looked like they were still in elementary school:   a whole bunch of girls who seemed to have missed the turn for the high school.  But who, on closer examination, turned out to just be wearing yoga pants and a whole lot of makeup.  And plenty of people in between these stereotypes.  And most of them had absolutely no idea, from  minute to minute, what they were going to do, or say, or think.

 

 

Sometimes we had a fall concert. So there was a lot of pressure to get them in voice groups as quickly as possible.  But how to do this?   I never ever figured out the perfect system, but I certainly tried.   There would be anywhere between 35 to 90 of them, and just 1 of me.  Really?

 

I went through loads of ideas for how to do this; some OK, some pretty rough, some just epically terrible. Somehow, by some miracle, our first performance always managed to look like we had a clue, but those first couple of weeks…..

 

 

 

 

Very often this process took up to three class periods.  I was always concerned about starting out in such a disruptive fashion, so the first several days I would pass out songs and have them choose their own part to sing, before I even started the sorting.  I thought  it was important to get them singing as soon as possible, to start them on vocal basics and let them learn some songs.  But there was still the glaring problem awaiting me.  I couldn’t delay it for long.

 

Voice testing with middle school choirs:  what a unique delight!

 

First of all, working with changing voice guys when they have no idea, from minute to minute what will come out of their mouth.  Or how to control it.  And to put an entire group of these insecure guys together to have them sing in public?  Oh, what utter insanity.  What sheer delight when it works, though.

 

 

 

Second:  How on earth could so many girls produce so little sound?  Try to imagine this:  Someone lines up 40 hair dryers, and turns them on low.  That’s the typical sound of a group of  middle school girls when they sing.   But just wait until they hit the hallway between classes!

 

 

But it seems I have always thrived on challenges.  So the challenge of getting to know this  goofy group of wonderful human beings, and get them to all want to do the same thing as I wanted them to do, always really exhilarated me.  And the prospect of a deadline, to have at least three or four songs memorized in 2 or 2 1/2 months, and have this group stand up in front of their parents;  announce their own songs; be dressed up; open their mouths; sing a foreign language correctly maybe……seems at this early moment, like total insanity.

 

 

And to get them to realize that they wanted to do this impossible thing together.  That was most of the battle.  By the end of the year, they would always be standing proud, singing well, and would have come so impossibly far from where they had started that it was hard to believe.

 

Obviously I’m not a sane person at all.  But I loved doing it, most of the time.  Sometimes I hated it.  Sometimes I complained about it bitterly.  But it was very addictive, and I think I was pretty good at it.

 

 

And then my last few years I moved up to high school.  That wasn’t like always digging new beds, but like tending already established ones.  Deciding what plants worked next to others, and which to move so they would have a better chance to flourish elsewhere.  I had jazz choirs, and I simply adored that.  And I turned out to be very good at that too, to my own great surprise.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stress seems tp have been somewhat ever-present, to some degree, in my life.  Maybe I would never get anything done without it.  But more than that, music and gardening. And writing has always been a thing for me.  And now I’m combining all three.  How cool.