I received an email today informing me that the stepfather of one of my students was killed in Iraq. The email was about the student and how she was out of school for a mental health day.
When I returned from Europe in early January, I was informed that the mother of two of my students had passed away after years of cancer. Those two students will now move to another city to live with their father.
Reflecting on the losses these children, who are no older than 13, has inspired me to consider the true capability of kids. These particular students have confided in me quite a bit. I have often listened to stories of mom vs. dad battles or child vs. step-mom battles. I have heard of boyfriends, and piercings, and breakups, and future dreams. These kids really handle a lot, and although there are times they are truly immature little dorks, they often step up to the plate and act like mature adults. Sometimes I wish they didn't have to.
This is short and kind of sporadic. Sorry. These were my thoughts though.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Some Things are Better Left Unsaid
The past couple of days I have experienced an unexplained loss of voice. A friend asks, "Have you been yelling too much at your students?" And the truth is, no, but I wonder if I have been talking too much.
One of the first things you learn as a music teacher is to talk less and play more. Explaining the intricacies of the portato bow stroke as demonstrated in Dvorak's 9th Symphony is REALLY BORING and takes a lot of time. But in about 14 seconds, I can demonstrate it on a cello to a group of 8th graders. And about 1 minute later most of them can mimic it back to me. Success might be accomplished both ways, but it is accomplished a lot faster when some things go left unsaid.
This whole less is more idea translates to a lot of things: phone calls, emails, comments in church, and business meetings. Imagine your listeners to each have a flashlight representing their ability to focus. If you only give them one thing to focus on, then it is an easy target. The more things that need to be in focus, the less light is going to be on each object. Each word is something else to focus on.
So why do we talk so much? I submit that it is because we each learn from our own voice, and think that others should too. We understand ourselves (or pretend to) and like hearing the sound of our own voice. Therefore we think others should understand us and enjoy the sound as much as we do. They don't.
Now, don't misunderstand. Vocal communication is important. But there are many other forms of communication that we often neglect for the very fallible aural type: body language, facial expression, example vs. non-example, and the list could go on forever. Try some of them. The quickest way to make someone laugh is not to tell a joke, but to trip over your own feet or make a funny face. Gets 'em every time.
One of the first things you learn as a music teacher is to talk less and play more. Explaining the intricacies of the portato bow stroke as demonstrated in Dvorak's 9th Symphony is REALLY BORING and takes a lot of time. But in about 14 seconds, I can demonstrate it on a cello to a group of 8th graders. And about 1 minute later most of them can mimic it back to me. Success might be accomplished both ways, but it is accomplished a lot faster when some things go left unsaid.
This whole less is more idea translates to a lot of things: phone calls, emails, comments in church, and business meetings. Imagine your listeners to each have a flashlight representing their ability to focus. If you only give them one thing to focus on, then it is an easy target. The more things that need to be in focus, the less light is going to be on each object. Each word is something else to focus on.
So why do we talk so much? I submit that it is because we each learn from our own voice, and think that others should too. We understand ourselves (or pretend to) and like hearing the sound of our own voice. Therefore we think others should understand us and enjoy the sound as much as we do. They don't.
Now, don't misunderstand. Vocal communication is important. But there are many other forms of communication that we often neglect for the very fallible aural type: body language, facial expression, example vs. non-example, and the list could go on forever. Try some of them. The quickest way to make someone laugh is not to tell a joke, but to trip over your own feet or make a funny face. Gets 'em every time.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Life is Lke a Violin
So when clumsy middle schoolers meet breakable and valuable string instruments there is very little one can do to prevent the eventual damage done to the instruments. In the last couple of weeks, I have had two cellos broken into pieces and at least eight strings break on school instruments.
You see, a string instrument has certain vulnerability spots. The strings (the first thing every student breaks), the bridge, the sound post, and the bass board. The strings and bridge are easy enough to fix. It's always fun to watch a beginning class when the first student breaks a string or the bridge comes off. A silence settles over the class as their mouths gape open in awe. They are always relieved when I can fix the problem in a matter of minutes.
Then come the true vulnerabilities of a string instrument: the sound post and the bass board. Both of these parts are vital in the production of good sound. If the sound post falls, not only is the instrument vuilerable to complete collapse, but some say it will never sound perfect again. A sound post can be reset, of course, but can it ever be the same? The bass board falls prey to cracks more often than any luthier would like to admit. Cracks throughout most of the instrument can be fixed, but a bass board crack is the kiss of death. The instrument, even when repaired, will never produce the same quality of sound.
So I am learning that sometimes in life, we are asked to place our valuable lives in the hands of others. There are some things about ourselves that others can break but are easily repairable, and then there are those other vulnerabilites in each of us, that if broken, will leave us changed forever. And then the question begs, will we be changed for the better?
Other than immense vulnerabilities, humans have something else in common with string instruments. They get better with time, with age, and especially with use. Without someone there to play music, the instrument is practically just firewood. Without someone there to experience emotion, to love, to lose, to rejoice and cry, the human might as well be dust. And if you've ever experienced the beauty of Dvorak's Cello Concerto or Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, or even Pink's "So What", you know the power of music. And if you've ever loved or been loved, you know the power of humanity.
May all of us survive the middle schoolers of life.
You see, a string instrument has certain vulnerability spots. The strings (the first thing every student breaks), the bridge, the sound post, and the bass board. The strings and bridge are easy enough to fix. It's always fun to watch a beginning class when the first student breaks a string or the bridge comes off. A silence settles over the class as their mouths gape open in awe. They are always relieved when I can fix the problem in a matter of minutes.
Then come the true vulnerabilities of a string instrument: the sound post and the bass board. Both of these parts are vital in the production of good sound. If the sound post falls, not only is the instrument vuilerable to complete collapse, but some say it will never sound perfect again. A sound post can be reset, of course, but can it ever be the same? The bass board falls prey to cracks more often than any luthier would like to admit. Cracks throughout most of the instrument can be fixed, but a bass board crack is the kiss of death. The instrument, even when repaired, will never produce the same quality of sound.
So I am learning that sometimes in life, we are asked to place our valuable lives in the hands of others. There are some things about ourselves that others can break but are easily repairable, and then there are those other vulnerabilites in each of us, that if broken, will leave us changed forever. And then the question begs, will we be changed for the better?
Other than immense vulnerabilities, humans have something else in common with string instruments. They get better with time, with age, and especially with use. Without someone there to play music, the instrument is practically just firewood. Without someone there to experience emotion, to love, to lose, to rejoice and cry, the human might as well be dust. And if you've ever experienced the beauty of Dvorak's Cello Concerto or Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, or even Pink's "So What", you know the power of music. And if you've ever loved or been loved, you know the power of humanity.
May all of us survive the middle schoolers of life.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Chance of Rain: 100%
When most people hear the warnings of an approaching natural disaster, a bit of fear for the oncoming desctruction enters their thoughts. They consider the power outages, the destroyed roads, the blown over trees, houses, and anything that once stood. They think of the fleeing refugees abandoning homes and those that choose not to leave at all. Both will suffer loss. If fact, it all seems like quite a disaster. Hence the name, natural disaster.
But then there is me. I love natural disasters. I love the excitement in the air and the adrenaline rush I get from all the news. I love how families are brought together and people make a point to renew connections with family and friends to make sure everyone is safe. I love how people are required to realize what is really important in life: family, friends, birth certificates, marriage certificates, and other important documents. Afterall, these are the things the refugees bring with them. Now, I'm not trying to prey on others' misfortune, I simply see the eye of the storm as an incredible catalyst for human relationships.
Hurricane Ike has been such a rush for me. We got out of school early on Friday in order to prepare the school and roads for the evacuees. I had a chance to volunteer to help the evacuees at the school, and even though later I received a call that my services were not needed yet, I was so excited to go watch a bunch of people sleep in a middle school gym. Plus, the expected rain is really great for my lawn! I just hope we get a decent enough rain storm to not have to water my lawn for a week or so. That would be icing on the cake.
In all the storm news, I have reflected on another hurricane many years ago in Georgia. Hurricane Opal, in my recollection, was a blast. We got let out of school for two whole days, and I got to sleep in the basement with my parents. Then some neighbors of ours were in a hotel, which isn't the safest, so they came to join us in our basement. They had a daughter roughly my age so for two whole days without school, I had a live in friend. I didn't think things could get much better!
Talking to my best friend from high school, and then my brother, their recollection of Hurricane Opal is very different. They remember trees everywhere, water everywhere, and spending those two days couped up away from windows. My brother and dad went down to Albany, GA to help the clean-up effort after the hurricane passed. I remember it as a time alone with mom while the boys were out for a few days. My brother, however, remembers the stench, the water, the sobbing families. He remembers the destruction beyond repair. Things I have not experienced, nor care to.
The bottom line: natural disasters are fun for me, and I intend to keep it that way. As long as I remain a teacher, I always have the thrill of the possibility of school closings. And as long as I stay far enough inland not to get hit too badly, then I will always have the possibility of helping evacuees. And as long as I remain near the path of natural disasters, I can expect phone calls from those I love every time an approaching storm is announced.
So why the title of this blog? Late last night, as Hurricane Ike was hitting Galveston, TX, I turned the TV to the storm watcher and was listening to the broadcast as I fell asleep. The broadcast for Saturday, "Chance of rain: 100%". I guess that's what is expected when you are being pummeled by a hurricane.
But then there is me. I love natural disasters. I love the excitement in the air and the adrenaline rush I get from all the news. I love how families are brought together and people make a point to renew connections with family and friends to make sure everyone is safe. I love how people are required to realize what is really important in life: family, friends, birth certificates, marriage certificates, and other important documents. Afterall, these are the things the refugees bring with them. Now, I'm not trying to prey on others' misfortune, I simply see the eye of the storm as an incredible catalyst for human relationships.
Hurricane Ike has been such a rush for me. We got out of school early on Friday in order to prepare the school and roads for the evacuees. I had a chance to volunteer to help the evacuees at the school, and even though later I received a call that my services were not needed yet, I was so excited to go watch a bunch of people sleep in a middle school gym. Plus, the expected rain is really great for my lawn! I just hope we get a decent enough rain storm to not have to water my lawn for a week or so. That would be icing on the cake.
In all the storm news, I have reflected on another hurricane many years ago in Georgia. Hurricane Opal, in my recollection, was a blast. We got let out of school for two whole days, and I got to sleep in the basement with my parents. Then some neighbors of ours were in a hotel, which isn't the safest, so they came to join us in our basement. They had a daughter roughly my age so for two whole days without school, I had a live in friend. I didn't think things could get much better!
Talking to my best friend from high school, and then my brother, their recollection of Hurricane Opal is very different. They remember trees everywhere, water everywhere, and spending those two days couped up away from windows. My brother and dad went down to Albany, GA to help the clean-up effort after the hurricane passed. I remember it as a time alone with mom while the boys were out for a few days. My brother, however, remembers the stench, the water, the sobbing families. He remembers the destruction beyond repair. Things I have not experienced, nor care to.
The bottom line: natural disasters are fun for me, and I intend to keep it that way. As long as I remain a teacher, I always have the thrill of the possibility of school closings. And as long as I stay far enough inland not to get hit too badly, then I will always have the possibility of helping evacuees. And as long as I remain near the path of natural disasters, I can expect phone calls from those I love every time an approaching storm is announced.
So why the title of this blog? Late last night, as Hurricane Ike was hitting Galveston, TX, I turned the TV to the storm watcher and was listening to the broadcast as I fell asleep. The broadcast for Saturday, "Chance of rain: 100%". I guess that's what is expected when you are being pummeled by a hurricane.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Return From Summer Break
Everyone thinks teachers have it best because we have so many holidays AND two months for summer break, but can I just say that going back to school really stinks. As a kid, you get new clothes, new stuff, and you were bored practically all summer anyway so going back to school is really just a time to go see your friends 8 hours a day again. But as a teacher, no one buys you new clothes or new stuff. You have to fund that out of your measly salary! And although you do get to see friends and colleagues again you also get all the lovely (sarcastic) things that come with teaching like educational politics, behavioral systems, whiney parents, and the occasional misbehaving child.
Don't get me wrong. Teaching is by far the best profession on the planet, in my opinion. I wouldn't trade it for the world. But the next time you meet a teacher and think, "dang he/she has it easy with all that time off", I just want you to remember that we earn the time off. Without that time, there would be no teachers, because we would all be locked in a padded room under surveillance. The time is necessary, but going back stinks.
Don't get me wrong. Teaching is by far the best profession on the planet, in my opinion. I wouldn't trade it for the world. But the next time you meet a teacher and think, "dang he/she has it easy with all that time off", I just want you to remember that we earn the time off. Without that time, there would be no teachers, because we would all be locked in a padded room under surveillance. The time is necessary, but going back stinks.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
The Beginning of my Blogging Adventures
So I have this friend who convinced me to give this a try. I am thoroughly unconvinced that anyone will ever read this, but oh well, at least it's entertaining to me.
I begin with my thoughts on the Olympics: may I just say I LOVE the Olympics! Every two years, for three weeks, I actually watch sports. And I don't just watch them, I obsess over them. I currently, thanks to AT&T U-verse, record all of the games on NBC. . . like I have the channel being recorded 20 hours a day, or something exteme like that.
Why, you ask, do I obsess over three weeks of sports? Three reasons: A) my mother, and B) national pride, and C) international interest.
First, my mother. You see, when the games came to Los Angeles (where we lived at the time) in 1984 my mother insisted that my family (except for me, the baby) attend an event. The only event they could afford was equestrian, so to the horses they went. Then came the Centennial games in Atlanta. Once again we lived in the host city (thanks to Lockheed) and this time attended several events including track and field and the gold medal games for handball. So in 2001 I head off to college in Utah, just in time for the 2002 Winter Games. Again, we attended several events which sparked my love for the game of ice hockey. My mom still has paraphernalia from all three Olympic Games we have attended through the years, and seeing this always spark memories of fun, family, cheering, and pride. (With the SLC games, I always think of cold feet and melting debit cards.)
So reasons B and C, national pride and international interest, are fairly self-explanatory. I love the U.S.A.! I also think it is incredible to see people from all over the world come together to bring out the best in each other. I find myself cheering for countries I've never heard of (as long as the US is already out or has already won), and wondering what it would be like to be a world class athlete from a third world country.
Plus, the commercials are really cool. . . I like the Coca-Cola bird's nest one. :)
I begin with my thoughts on the Olympics: may I just say I LOVE the Olympics! Every two years, for three weeks, I actually watch sports. And I don't just watch them, I obsess over them. I currently, thanks to AT&T U-verse, record all of the games on NBC. . . like I have the channel being recorded 20 hours a day, or something exteme like that.
Why, you ask, do I obsess over three weeks of sports? Three reasons: A) my mother, and B) national pride, and C) international interest.
First, my mother. You see, when the games came to Los Angeles (where we lived at the time) in 1984 my mother insisted that my family (except for me, the baby) attend an event. The only event they could afford was equestrian, so to the horses they went. Then came the Centennial games in Atlanta. Once again we lived in the host city (thanks to Lockheed) and this time attended several events including track and field and the gold medal games for handball. So in 2001 I head off to college in Utah, just in time for the 2002 Winter Games. Again, we attended several events which sparked my love for the game of ice hockey. My mom still has paraphernalia from all three Olympic Games we have attended through the years, and seeing this always spark memories of fun, family, cheering, and pride. (With the SLC games, I always think of cold feet and melting debit cards.)
So reasons B and C, national pride and international interest, are fairly self-explanatory. I love the U.S.A.! I also think it is incredible to see people from all over the world come together to bring out the best in each other. I find myself cheering for countries I've never heard of (as long as the US is already out or has already won), and wondering what it would be like to be a world class athlete from a third world country.
Plus, the commercials are really cool. . . I like the Coca-Cola bird's nest one. :)
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