I just completed the first half of my teaching career. It was a year that was endured through many challenging circumstances. By all rights, I should feel lucky to have survived after trying to teach music over an incredible amount of noise. You know what? I'm more proud of the accomplishments than ever before. It's true . . . Schools are about people, not fancy technology, not pretty classrooms . . . Although I'll never ever undervalue my classrooms' windows. But really, my kids came in, learned, smiled, aughed, and cried. It's really that simple. Schools are about kids. I made a lot of great music with my kids this year. I'm proud of them and when I take the time to feel this, the other grueling stresses start fading. Yes I'm exhausted. Yes I need some time to recover. But I'm strangely already looking forward to next year . . . I'll be back in my beautiful classroom. I'll have all my teaching materials at my fingertips. I'll have access to our wonderful rehearsal rooms. I won't have to beg people to stop talking while I am trying to teach. All will be right in my beautiful musical environment. I wonder if this will inspire my kids to practice . . . ;o)

Ode to a Krazor

I recently retired my beloved KRZR "Krazor" cell phone. I loved this cell phone! At the time, it was rather expensive . . . about $120. It is a charming little flip phone that wasn't all "plasticky". It had a mirror on the front which didn't become scratched. Upon retirement, this phone still looked brand new. It was the perfect size . . . like baby bear--not to big, not to small, just right! It was a mother's day present from my wonderful husband and children.

I miss it. Weird . . . 'cause I'm not a cell phone obsessive person.

It was replaced by a glamorous iPhone. I should be excited about this, right? Okay, I'm starting to get pulled into the iPhone cult. While I'm a pretty good technology person (teacher's have to be these days), I've always resisted becoming the type of person who can't seem to go five minutes without poking at their smart phone . . . if they are that smart, why do people have to check for stuff all the time, shouldn't a smart phone be able to answer email for it's owner?

I quickly discovered why there are so many distracted drivers out there. Iphones and other touch phones divert your attention far more than my Krazor ever did. There is nothing tactile about a smart phone. You must look at it in order to know where to poke. Even playing music from this phone puts me in danger of having my Prius meet a tree, face-on.

But it's fun . . . right? Okay . . . it's growing on me. Slowly. Frankly, the cost of this phone ought to include a graduate course in it's usage. There's a lot to learn with this phone and the learning curve is time-consuming. Yes, you really can't do anything wrong but still . . . it's far more complicated than my laptop computer.

My biggest accomplishment with this phone at this time is finally arriving at the selection of a case. I chose a Fab Speck case . . . a case that is rather slim but that has fabric on the back of it. As usual, I failed to have the confidence to select the one I wanted . . . I am so bad at avoiding my gut choices, especially in restaurants. Selecting just the right case and keeping a balance of style and protection was tough. I am rather appalled at the cost of these cheaply made items . . . we all know they were made by 8 year old children in rural China, after all.

I have also learned how to access my Netflix account and must admit that there is some enjoyment to be had in being able to watch a movie anytime, anywhere. Movies, though, suck up battery power quite rapidly. Perhaps I need to revise my case selection by choosing one with battery enhancement . . . hee hee hee . . .for some reason, that term amuses me!

Oh The Places You'll Go . . . a day of DEAD-ness in the life of an elementary music teacher . . .

I love to read . . . even more than I love music . . . okay, maybe the two are tied. I will read anything . . . great novels, bad novels, trashy beach novels, tabloids, the New York Times, . . . the only thing I hate is most self help books. Like . . . I have my own life, not interested in how you live yours . . . My Kindle is an ever-present gadget wherever I go. I am terrified of having free time on my hands without the access to a good book. Seriously, having time on my hands without having a method of occupying my attention is a true phobia.

Today we celebrated Dr. Seuss's birthday during my school's Read Across America day. Our kids had a breakfast treat (Green Eggs and Ham, anyone . . . ). I'm sure their wonderful classroom teachers read their favorite Dr. Seuss books. Some enterprising reading teachers ran a trivia contest. I felt kind of dumb when a few kids asked me if I knew how old Dr. Seuss is . . . I pointed out he is actually dead. They laughed and clarified. For the record . . . He would be something like 108. Did you know Dr. Seuss really didn't like children . . . seriously, all true.

Now, for the DEAD-ness part . . . My favorite! We had a five minute DEAR session . . . this means Drop Everything And Read. One of my kiddies charmingly and erroneously called it DEAD. In my amusement, I decided to not correct his error. After all, to a child some days can seem to be rather dead. Besides, I correct this child's musical performance all the time . . . he doesn't need to hear me correct his perception of our special day.

Now . . . I am truly ready to climb into bed and engage in seriously sleepy DEAD-ness! Ha ha ha . . . couldn't resist!

Back Pain Rulz . . .

Back pain, despite my efforts to will it to go away, often rules my life. I have two herniated disks. One has been removed in my cervical spine, one has no surgical option because doing so would most certainly cause the disks above and below it to herniate.

So . . . I live with it. I scream at it. I have conversations with it. Sometimes I say "No, you are not going to distract me right now." Sometimes I'm successful. Sometimes it wins. We've come to a mutual level of respect where I recognize it's existence and it leaves me alone as long as I don't forget to take my medication and go to my yoga class once per week. My heating pad is a constant companion . . . and it's actually nice to be able to get warm in the cold winters of northeastern US.

Pain is familiar. It's scary to realize that fact. Pain has become this thing that is always there under the surface. I've developed empathy for people with pain far worse than mine . . . like burn victims or people with amputated limbs. I can't imagine living in a state of crazy uncontrolled pain. I was raised to just suck it up and deal with it. You know the 1970's parenting adage: stop being a crybaby. I'll never say that to my kids. Never. I want them to speak up and become good advocates for themselves rather than choke back the tears.

My wonderfully caring rheumatologist shared some statistics with me this week--there is a law that requires emergency room doctors to treat reported patient pain, whether or not they are exhibiting drug seeking behavior. Conversely, medical insurance doesn't want doctors to prescribe pain meds. So most doctors don't treat pain. My doctor shared that our pain receptors in our brain will cause more generalized chronic pain if localized acute pain isn't treated. A one-time treatment of acute pain could result in the avoidance of developing chronic pain . . . and save huge amounts of healthcare dollars. Only in America would insurance companies and Congress do something that makes no sense and that costs a lot of money. In the county in which I live, only two pain management doctors will prescribe medication to treat pain. Doctors, usually seen as being compassionate people, are now forced to say "suck it up and deal, no crybabies".

No wonder Americans are hurting!

Birthdays and other pathways . . .

My birthday is tomorrow. While I don't particularly like birthdays (I try to forget about mine but my family refuses to play along), they do get me thinking about this path we follow called "life". My path has taken me in many directions . . . some of which I would never have predicted. Who would have guessed that I'd actually follow my dream of being a music teacher? Two children? After being the oldest of four, I would have guessed that I'd only ever have one daughter who would be just like me, without the life mistakes of course . . . actually I have to wonderful boys, so much for my being able to control this part of my life. If someone had shown me a picture and a description of my husband when I was a teenager, I would have laughed and told them that I preferred Tom Cruise and Andrew McCarthy. How I ended up marrying this intelligent, funny, and devoted person, I'll never know. Lucky, I guess. Someone who controls my destiny knew that this wonderful person would give me the life I needed, not the one I thought I wanted.

So . . . back to my birthday. At first I thought I'd write about aging gracefully but then I realized, after spending more money on facial anti-aging products, that I'm not willing to age gracefully. I'm just not. I liked being young and want to stay there. Therefore, I need a new meaningful topic. Thus, the idea of paths and pathways. So . . . I decided to explore my photographs and am sharing one of my favorite pathways.

A path through Mount Rainier . . . you need an ice pick to get to the waterfall at the end of this path. Needless to say, we didn't have one. This photo was taken in June. Yes, June. A month when we want to see green mountains and pretty flowers. Sunshine. Yeah right . . . the Pacific Northwest doesn't see the sun until halfway through July. No one told us this fact when we booked our plane tickets. So our visit to the stunning Mount Rainier was wet, rainy, misty, and the mountain was still covered with snow. People still ski during this month in the Pacific Northwest. My shorts stayed in the suitcase and I craved my winter coat. However, all complaints ended when we drove through the small wooden archway that provides people with a simple entrance to a grand mountain.

Mount Rainier was beautiful in all it's misty foggy rain sodden glory. You have to seek out it's wonders . . . it doesn't overtly present them. The drive along the paved road is nice but the hidden secrets of this mountain call to you, begging one to park the car and get wet. Many of it's beautiful features require a bit of a hike. It's as if Mother Nature wants people to work for the reward of seeing the natural wonders on this mountain. I'm okay with that . . . it's a fair trade.

The light is different from any mountain I've seen in the past. In the rain and fog of June, it's a bit dark . . . the darkness adds to it's power and delicate natural beauties. Waterfalls abound and each sings their own splashy song. There are small ponds hidden along the pathways, covered with bright green algae and other plant growth. I wondered if there were fairies and gnomes living underneath the ferns of this mountain. We were too early to see the meadow wild flowers in a location aptly called "Paradise" but didn't feel deprived. The fog crept along the snow-covered fields, changing the view every few minutes. My camera took wonderful photos but didn't come close to being accurate in its representation of this amazing place.

What a divergent mountain . . . somehow, I wish that Walt Whitman had lived to see this place. He would have done justice in describing the powerful height, merry waterfalls, delicate snow flowers, and scents of pine. My words are sorely inadequate and I feel as though we were only allowed to peek into a few crevices of this natural site. It's now seven months after our trip and I still seek out my photos on a regular basis. I want to go back and explore more of this place. Maybe the mountain gods will open more doors and share more of its secrets. I hope so . . .

New Year's Resolutions . . .

I don't really buy into making resolutions in January . . . however, for some reason I thought I'd give this a try. So here goes . . . I started with items like "eat more chocolate", spend more weekends traveling to local places, and avoid time-wasting sites like Facebook but then decided that a resolution must improve the resolver's daily and long term life. So . . .

For the obligatory "exercise" resolution . . . I'd like to maintain my yoga schedule throughout the year. I have this rather lazy habit of turning a weekly conflict into a multi-month vacation from yoga. Not sure why . . . I actually love yoga! If we all did yoga, world peace would be possible. I truly believe this.

For the mandatory "eat healthy" resolution, I decided to be specific . . . Vegetables . . . my husband seeks every opportunity to ban me from our kitchen . . . and I don't exactly fight this most of the time. However, he violates the "palm-sized" meat portion rule and believes that one should finish meat portions "because it costs more". Me . . . I'd probably become a vegetarian or someone who rarely eats meat if I were left to my own devices. I love the color and crunch of good vegetables. So . . . I hereby resolve to become the vegetable cook. This will, of course, involve an expenditure of some truly beautiful veggie cookbooks. Now . . . if I can just convince my husband that it's okay if I use his expensive Shun knife!

Movies . . . okay, this one is self-indulgent. I work hard, don't I deserve some recreation? I think so! I love movies . . . good ones, bad ones, mediocre ones . . . I love all movies except for pornography and slasher flicks. As a child of the '80's, I grew up with enough slasher films to last a life time. After the eighteenth Friday the 13th film, I swore off this genre . . . with the one exception of Silence of the Lambs (Anthony Hopkins and Jodie Foster's performances were too impressive to miss). Now . . . I avoid slasher flicks like the plague. My tastes run towards indie films, dramas, and films that produce truly great artistic performances. I like most Oscar nominated films although I haven't been able to get through last year's winner, The Hurt Locker. I don't get to see enough movies in the theater. My resolution is to fix this . . . it's okay to go to a film by myself and I vow to do that if my family members are sluggish about joining me.

Here's the difficult resolution fulfilling the "make me a better person" requirement . . . I resolve to keep my bedroom clean for one third of the year. Yes, this will kill me! I'm surprised that my husband hasn't banished me to the basement for my penchant for never putting clean clothing away. I will need to invest in some closet essentials and more dresser space but this is something that must be done.

Finally, I must include the commercial "let's lose 50 lbs. in two weeks" resolution. However, 10 lbs. is probably more reasonable. Perhaps I can bring myself to reacquaint myself with my treadmill or convince my better half to actually go for evening walks. We'll see . . . heck, I ought to be able to lose 10 lbs. simply by avoiding my school's cafeteria for a week!

The Views of a Health Economist . . . for real . . .

I listened to Talkback this week. Talkback is radio show on my local public radio station. The station managers come up with a topic, bring in local "experts", and allow people to call in with questions and comments. As you can imagine in the this day and age of Rush Limbaugh and Glenn Beck, these discussions can become rather heated.

The latest guest was a health economist from the Milton S. Hershey Medical Center. The topic was the economic effects of smoking. My grandfather passed away from the effects of emphysema. Another dear relative was recently treated for throat cancer, something that was definitely caused by years of heavy smoking. After visiting him a few days before my grandfather's passing, I am well aware of the painful effects of this deadly disease. I don't smoke, my children are strongly warned against smoking, and I avoid walking near smokers at any cost.

When hearing the topic of this radio show, l (as well as you) would expect to hear statistics on the medical costs and loss of work days from the negative effects of smoking. You would probably expect a representative of a major medical center to rail against the bad effects of smoking tobacco products. You would expect this person to share information on successful smoking cessation programs.

This didn't happen. I was and am still shocked. Instead, this person spoke about the detrimental economic effects on the great state of PA that would happen if smoking were outlawed. The poor farmers (here I'm thinking of the corporate farms, not family farms) would suffer greatly if they didn't have tobacco as a major cash crop. Of course he ignored the call in question by a listener that suggested that farmers start growing corn for ethynol production. He also said that the state of PA couldn't afford to lose the tax dollars that were gained on each pack of cigarettes that was purchased in the state. He also spoke of the medical personnel who benefitted from treating people for smoking related illnesses. Finally, he touted the benefits of smoking cessation programs of programs that cost the most for taxpayers . . . not the more inexpensive programs.

This person, who works for a major medical center in central PA, truly believes that from an economical perspective, people needed to keep smoking. Really! I wonder if he has a favorite brand of cigarettes!

Glen Beck is clever . . . and dangerous.

He knew exactly what he was doing . . . by scheduling his so called "non political rally" for the same day as Martin Luther King, Jr.'s "I've Got A Dream" speech, he invited extra publicity and comparisons to a great American. Glen Beck is not a great American. He's a populist for white lower income Americans who have been told that they haven't had a voice until his coming. He's also a blatant flip flopper. He's made racist comments and then pulls a stunt like today. Americans that view him in a positive light seem to be accepting of his contradictions. I find that puzzling . . . do Americans really feel so ignored by politicians that they are willing to accept one opinion on one day and a contradicting opinion on another day. Politicians have been undone by changing opinions in the past . . . why is Beck able to maintain his support?

Bill Clinton once said that "When Americans think, democrats win." Well . . . we're currently not thinking very well. I recently read an article that laid out the Obama presidency very clearly . . . he's actually doing rather well. http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2010/aug/29/andrew-rawnsley-obama-second-term

I like the perspective . . . and am perplexed as to why American followers of people like Glen Beck are working so hard to prevent this president from succeeding . . . it's not like they are going to hurt President Obama in the long run. He's going to finish his presidency in four or eight years, and will then go off to a lucrative life of speaking and being an elder statesman.

The fact is that Beck/Palin/Savage/Limbaugh followers are only going to hurt themselves in the long run . . . higher taxes, less government support for things like policemen, firemen, road maintenance, public facilities, national parks, safety in things like food and medicines, . . . I find it intriguing that Beck/Limbaugh/Palin followers want less government and yet they are the first to claim that the government has failed people if there is a natural disaster. Do you really think that these people would be popular if they were in office and eliminated all the public programs that they label as "taking money out of hardworking American's pockets"?

A current poll blames the Obama presidency for the purported unreadiness of another hurricane disaster like Katrina. I have heard public financial support as being a "handout" many times over the past months. There are very few people who can say that they won't ever need public financial support in their lifetime . . . don't you want that safety net? And then there are the people who say that social security is a handout and should be eliminated . . . do you really engage in responsible saving? Considering the statistics on the small number of people who are wealthy, I doubt it. Most of you would frivolously spend the money put into FICA rather than saving it. I just heard that GM is going well in China . . . how many birthers/Palinist/Beck followers give credit to the TARP bill for saving this company? Furthermore, have these followers spoken to any GM auto workers who still have jobs because of public support.

Come one people, you can't have your cake and eat it too . . . if we don't start developing respect for our public leaders, no intelligent people will go into public service. You don't have to agree on everything but you don't have to lie, take facts out of context, and accuse your president of being an extremist Muslim either. You can worship at the alter of Glen Beck and Sarah Palin, but the fact is, if you were penniless and begging on the street they'd walk on by . . . without sharing their wealth. And yes, they are part of the wealthy elite in this country. Do you really want Glen Beck's America? It's not like he's going to put his money where is mouth is and run for public office. He plays it safe and stays where he can talk but not be involved in the actual governing process.

Frankly, this American is proud of the principles that our country was founded upon but isn't particularly proud of Americans at this time in history.

Strings Without Boundaries

Yes. The title of this graduate course is the perfect description. I know . . . people who hear that I teach students to play string instruments immediately conjure up a vision of ugly out-of-tune Mozart. That's really not what I do . . . at least I try very hard and am successful . . . most of the time. I'm not a native violinist . . . my first choice of a musical instrument was the clarinet. I started playing the clarinet in second grade after a few points of direction from my mom. I am proud to be a third generation clarinetist as my mom and grandfather also played this instrument . . . and modestly know that I'm the most accomplished. I can play the Mozart concerto when someone holds a gun to my head (no this has never happened). I studied clarinet in college with two very talented performers . . . neither of whom ever convinced me that I would learn to like French conservatory clarinet solos. My youngest child also chose the clarinet, probably with the knowledge that he was going to make us pay for his choice of instrument by frequently sharing that he hates band, the clarinet, and most of all that dreaded PRACTICE.

Anyway, I digress . . . going on a tangent is something that I learned in my pre-highstakes-testing education days . . . I am thankful that I was never forced to memorize the tenants of the five paragraph essay! Back on topic . . . strings. Yes, I teach strings and because I'm not a native violinist, I frequently take graduate courses in the summers. Through this study, I've become pretty good on this instrument and my kids have no idea that it's not my main instrument. Also, I have made a wonderful discovery over the past few years . . . I am a fiddle player at heart. Fiddle music feeds my soul. I think it's a connection to all those campfire songs that I sang as a child . . . now we teach tunes from television cartoons like Sponge Bob, folk songs and campfire tunes are no longer the staple of public school music program. Oops . . . I digress again. Back to fiddle music. A few years ago I attended a graduate course called "The Pittsburgh Jazz and Fiddle Camp". This camp has been renamed "Strings Without Boundaries" and I chose to enroll in this camp for the second time this summer. It's a special secret of mine that one of the few perks of being a music teacher is that I get to study things like fiddle music. Other "real" teachers have to take things like "Classroom Management for Autistic Students" and "Interpretation and Use of Scoring Rubrics for Dreaded Standardized Tests". Me . . . I fly under the radar and take music courses that feed my soul and inspire me to once again walk into school on the first day of classes.

Fiddle music is amazing! It has melody that is frequently lyrical and playful . . . two of my requirements for music that I like. It's fun, it's worldly . . . and best of all MY STUDENTS LIKE TO PRACTICE IT!!! Quite simply, today's kids don't practice Mozart. They just don't. They are too busy running from school to girl scouts to soccer practice to Broadway dance classes to the mounds of homework that we give them in our attempts to say that we have good standardized test scores. Parents don't get involved with music lessons and put it on my shoulders to inspire their over-programmed kids to practice. So . . . I have to resort to tricking them into wanting to practice. Fiddle music is the best way to do this . . . give them Devil's Dream and I know that next week I'll hear those magical words--"Mrs. M., look what I can do!"

Now, I know that I am never going to be a world class fiddler but I can keep up with my fifth graders. This summer, something special happened. I got to study fiddle music with an American treasure of a fiddler . . . Richard Greene. Richard has invented techniques used in bluegrass music. As a teenager, he played with Bill Monroe and the Bluegrass Boys. No, I had never heard of this group but apparently it was the granddaddy of bluegrass music. Now, Richard is a Grammy nominated/awarded bluegrass fiddler. I didn't know this until I checked out his website. When I worked with him, he was this nice gray haired gentleman who could play the snot out of his fiddle. I could tell that he was a well trained, i.e. classically trained, fiddler. He uses good hand position and knows how to shift. He can also play the most complicated doublestops that I have ever seen. He spent most of the week harping on our accents on beat three and complaining that we were using too much bow on beat four. This got old after a day or two but by the end of the week I could hear the effect of better control. On the last day, he got all misty-eyed and said that we were the best group of beginners that he had worked with in his time in Pittsburgh (yeah! I fooled him!). At the end of the last day, I attended a panel discussion and listened to him talk about the early influences on his musical development. I began to realize that this guy was part of American bluegrass history. He knew some serious people. When you play for the Academy Awards, you're someone. Seriously!

All week long, I had been chomping at the bit to play some Irish/Scottish/Cape Breton/New England style fiddle music. This isn't what Richard does. He does bluegrass music . . . basically fiddle music with a lot of really fast notes. When he played for us on the last day, some of his lessons sunk in. I could here the emphasis on the backbeats and could see why he kept saying "less bow, less bow". But mostly, I could see his love for this music and his wanting to share that love. Richard was not a trained teacher but he truly wanted to inspire young students to seek out his genre . . . it occurred to me that this is why I seek out these summer experiences. I often don't know how to regenerate my love for music after the grueling challenges of teaching music in public schools. This is why I enroll in courses like this. A little part of Richard Greene is going to be present in my classroom in August.

Somehow, I think that my grandfather would have liked this.

Pacific Northwest

The Pacific Northwest is . . . simply lovely! From the breathtaking heights of Mounts Rainier/Hood/Saint Helens to the city offerings of Portland, Seattle, and Tacoma, our vacation was a much needed break from the demands of public school music teachers. Living on the East coast, my experience with cities tends to be dominated by theater performances and history. While that certainly exists in the afore mentioned cities . . . go see the Underground Tour in Seattle for some humorous history . . . it's really not the main focus of these cities. Seattle is jewelpiece of the Pacific Northwest. I'm not sure I've seen a healthier happier city. Even the rush hour traffic tends to be polite. Tacoma is, for lack of a better word, a nice place. And Portland . . . a relative commented that Portlanders like keeping their city a bit "weird". I agree with this. From the Naked Bike Race (bringing attention to a form of transportation that doesn't use fossil fuels) to a book store that wants you to have the choice of used or new books, Portland is pretty unique. What I'll remember in all three cities is the prevalence of unique expression in local businesses. None of these cities is overloaded with national chains. People enjoy their small businesses and each is an expression of the creative personalities of their owners. You can tell that people are happy . . . in their jobs, in their personal lives, and are proud of their communities. People simply like each other. Living in the rat race of public education, I crave this.

I viewed much of our destinations behind the lens of my camera. I'd like to share a few of my favorites . . . Pittman mansion in Portland, OR; flower vendor in Pike's Place Market, Seattle, WA; sandcastle event at Cannon Beach, Portland, OR; the largest bookstore (Powell's) in the USA, Portland, OR; Dale Chihuly glasswork, Tacoma, WA; Mount Hood as seen from apple orchards, OR; waterfall as seen through stone railing, Columbia Gorge, OR; our last mountain view of Mount Ranier, I5 outside Seattle, WA; and kiteboarder, Columbia River Gorge, OR.

Endings . . .

My school year is ending. I keep looking at my students' faces and wonder if I've made a difference. Will they remember me? Do I want them to remember me . . . ha ha, maybe not in a few cases. As a music teacher, I always wonder if they are going to support music performance ensembles for their children . . . at a much later date of course. Did I teach them a song that they will sing and play for the rest of their lives? I hope so but I don't know so. Our society has the "American Idol" philosophy that some people are singers and some can't . . . which is really wrong. We all have the capability of singing, unless there is a physical defect. However, in the United States today, there is a stigma against perceived inability to produce a singing tone . . . if we can't belt it out like Carrie Underwood, then we can't sing . . . crazy thought, but I do think it is true. Listen to a young child sing . . . most likely they will imitate their favorite Disney singer . . . how many Miley Cirus wanna-be's are out there . . . too many! I guess I should be grateful that they are imitating Miley and not Billy Ray (Achey Breaky Heart deserves a peaceful death . . . ).

We used to have a great tradition of singing. I had the great privilege of growing up in a family that sang holiday carols in the car, had campfires where a favorite aunt and a favorite uncle would play folk tunes on the guitar and we'd all sing along, where we participated in scouting which always involved singing around the campfire . . . I always sang in chorus. Always. Now I just sing in my daily job and of course have the occasional "belt it out" fest on my commute to and from my school. Thanks to my iPod for that last one! In addition, singing schools were held in prairie one room school houses. Shape singing, also known as solfa, was popular in New England. Revivals involved singing . . . African American Baptist/Gospel churches have maintained this tradition, probably better than we rather staid Caucasians.

Singing in America though is not an ingrained part of our daily culture today. It's seen as something that some can do and most cannot. Sadly shows like American Idol and America's Got Talent contribute to this when they dismiss people with perfectly acceptable ordinary singing voices. They should say "yes you can sing, but you're just not a pop star".

This idea of music in culture makes me ponder this . . . do we have a culture if we don't sing? All the interesting cultures around the world have singing traditions. From African village gatherings to work songs in farming communities in China to aboriginal songs in the Middle Eastern and Asian countries. We're losing Stephen Foster songs and slave spirituals and jazz favorites and holiday sing-a-longs (do we really need to sing "Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer" . . . over "White Christmas"). The oral tradition of passing down songs still exists around the world but it has faded in the US. Families either don't have the time nor the inclination to do that any more . . . how many kids in America know "Oh Susanna" or "Dixie" or my personal favorite "The Cat Came Back".

The closest place that I can find singing for children, outside school music programs of course, is in churches. The problem with church music is that it is limited to music that serves the purpose of that particular religion. There are, of course, wonderful church music teachers. Maybe churches could expand their repertoire and teach folk songs mixed in with those of religious themes. I'd also like to see churches go back and teach all the old religious songs . . . there's too much new poppy stuff on the market.

Maybe I should make this blog about songs . . . hmmm . . . I keep thinking that I lack personality. I might be on to something here . . . I could focus on a folk song and it's history each week. Maybe . . .

My Wedding Anniversary . . . Wow!

My decades-long wedding anniversary is coming up. I'm excited, kind of like I used to get excited when watching out my window for Santa Claus' arrival on Christmas Eve. For some reason, this one's kind of different. I'm proud of my successful marriage. More proud than I ever thought I'd be! I've been smiling about this for several weeks. I grew up in the 1980's and it seems like everyone got divorced, had messy lives, and messed up kids. I haven't done that and I'm proud of that. How . . . you might ask . . .

Well, I could give all the usual platitudes such as work together, don't go to bed angry, and be supportive. Sure . . . these are all true. I guess we do these things . . . some of them (not the "don't go to bed angry" . . . we certainly go to bed angry because we have exhausting jobs). But the real reason we've survived is twofold . . . one, we've never (or rarely) considered any other option and two, we just work together. My husband and I have the same interests, we absolutely love talking with one another, and we spend a lot of time together . . . probably too much, sometimes.

I love him. "Well . . . you're supposed to" you might comment. Sure . . . but I've seen many people who don't seem to have the same passion for each other after all these years. We do. Always. Even in the middle of the angriest tear-filled disagreements, I love him. In these moments, I want to protect him . . . from my anger. The simplest things make me feel loved. Emails in the middle of the day, even ones that simply say "hi, hope you're having a good day, love you" still make me smile as much as pretty cards did back when we first met. I passionately support my husband every chance I get . . . and I love doing so . . . even when it means that I'm seen more as my husband's wife instead of a good music teacher in my own right . . . yes, we both teach music and he's better at this than I although I'm probably the better relationship person. He's like any guy who sometimes forgets his wedding anniversary, never sends me flowers, and leaves the lid up in the middle of the night . . . but he also does little things for me that have big meanings. How many guys out there are comfortable washing their spouse's underwear, bras, and stockings . . . "too much information" you're screaming right now. Okay, I get that one. How many guys are willing to interrupt an afternoon nap to talk to their wife when she's getting drowsy during her long drive home? How many guys cook dinner for their wife EVERY night . . . Yes, he does this and is an amazing cook! I probably carry around 10-15 extra pounds that are dedicated to my husband's cooking.

Yes, we fight and argue and disagree and sometimes throw things or hit things. You have no idea . . . between our respective job stress (being a music teacher is one of the most stressful jobs in education today, I believe that) and my penchant for picking a PMS infused monthly fight, we get into it. Oh do we ever! We're both stubborn and we believe, at all costs, that we're right and the other is not. We've learned how to get under each other's skin . . . and unfortunately, we don't hesitate to do so. We could probably be actors in one of those classic spousal movie scenes . . . the ones where they throw things at each other . . . you know what I mean. Yes, we also get annoyed at each other by little things in life. His snoring keeps me up at night (he does nothing about it! grrr . . . ) and he surely goes nuts with my penchant for living off of piles of clothes on our bedroom floor. He refuses to send me roses on Valentines Day because of the excessive cost . . . I get annoyed when he wants to buy himself big priced toys (golf clubs, iPhone, touch iPod . . . other gadgets over the years). But, we work. We do. I'm not sure why. Make up you-know-what, maybe . . . or maybe our stubborn commitment to our own side of an argument fuels our passion for each other . . . who knows . . . it just works.

Let's face it, we didn't do anything right when we first met. We didn't become friends, and then date, and then spend an engagement working out the correct formula for our lives. We didn't go through counseling before our quick wedding . . . you know, those sessions that teach you how to deal with the trials of marriage. Instead, we were star-crossed the first time we met and became soul mates on the very next date. My poor husband ran up much credit debt trying to convince me that he loved me . . . he didn't have to, it was mutual. I won't bore you with some of these other details . . . especially with a certain Christmas party and my cute borrowed mini-skirt and tights . . . We did, however, get married shortly after we met. You would be shocked if you knew how short a time we dated. We stressed out over financial issues and didn't plan our children. And we've lasted many years . . . without question. Amazing! We didn't do ANYTHING the proverbial right and yet . . . Our "we" is so right.

There's another ingredient in this formula . . . our kids. We both grew up with divorced parents and neither of us wanted our kids to go through the same. It's why we just don't consider any other relationship option. But there's more to it than this . . . kids are like glue. They make us stick together. We are the proverbial proud parents when we attend our kids' concerts, conferences, and sporting events. We desperately miss our kids when we have to go places without them. We disagree about our kids and worry about our kids . . . together. They complete our relationship circle and I'm grateful for every fleeting minute I spend as a parent.

Amazing . . . I'm still smiling about this achievement and will be for some time . . . Happy anniversary to me! Happy anniversary to us!

School is great . . .

I'm having a good year. This is good . . .

We expect our teachers to always be positive, to always have energy, to always give 100% . . . well, sure, that's our job. We have to pretend that we aren't tired, that we aren't getting a cold, that we didn't have that argument with a friend or family member . . . But c'mon, we're human. We wouldn't be good at what we do if we didn't empathize with a student who is having a bad day. We wouldn't be good if we didn't know what it felt like to have our feelings hurt.

Quite frankly, it's hard, sometimes, to smile and be understanding and enthusiastic and encouraging. We're expected to observe disgruntled parents and bring compassion into our conversations with them. Maybe disgruntled parents could understand that sometimes teachers need a hug and a goodnight sleep. I sometimes wonder if parents, who are tired of their child's behavior, understand that we see the same things in school . . . only teachers really don't have the option of sending the child to their room. The highs of teaching can be like riding a great rollarcoaster but the lows are like riding a cheap carnival ride that makes you nauseaus.

Much to many people's assumption, teaching is and will never be a day job with weekends and summers off. I don't know any teacher who walks out of school and stops thinking of their students. The fact is, we are teachers 24 hours of the day . . . whether we want to or not. We work with our nation's most precious resource--our kids (hope that doesn't sound like a bad Hallmark card). Teaching kids is simply not a job but instead, an avocation that invades our entire being . . . and I'm okay with this on most days.

As I write this I'm thinking that I wouldn't want to have a day job. I hope I continue to have a good year!

New Year . . . why not September?

As I'm fighting the need to get ready for a new year of teaching music, I started to wonder about the reasons for our Western European/American tradition of designating January as our "New Year". Nothing starts in January . . . except for new cycles of colds and the flu. Wouldn't it be more enjoyable to hang out in Times Square in the month of October? The fact is that most people, especially those of us who live with school-aged children, connect our lives with renewal each September (okay . . . we start school in August now, a fact that I deplore). Fall comes, football starts, the nights become cooler, the lazy hot days of summer start to recede . . . fall, even though plant growth starts to recede, seems to be a time when modern people simply wake up. Who doesn't like fall?

Don't get me wrong, I love the month of January. I was born in January and have always liked the idea of my birthmonth being named after a Roman god. Janus is the Roman god of gates, doors, and doorways. Quixotically, the pre-Julius Caesar Roman calendar designated the month of March as the beginning of the new year. Julius, being a typical over-bearing "What-I-say-goes" kind of Roman emperor, instituted the foundations for our modern calendar. Considering the seasons (northern hemisphere), the month of January occurs in the dead of winter . . . not exactly a time when we look for renewal. I've often wondered if I suffer from affective seasonal disorder as I find the months of January, February, and March to be very depressing and dreary.

Other cultures don't follow our Westernized sense of conventional beginnings. I was surprised to discover that the Christian calendar designates the month of March . . . I had easily forgotten this fact that was first presented to me during junior high Sunday school classes. Do we need to follow the mammoth over-commercialized holiday of Christmas with another excuse to party and drink? While Christmas is now characterized by excess, the season of fall is characterized by beauty in nature, bountiful harvest, and cool nights that encourage wonderful slumber. People used to celebrate harvests with barn dances and fall fairs. My own children probably don't know why fairs exist.

I also discovered, in my non-scholarly research of this idea, that quite a few cultures have used the moon cycles to determine the specific day of the new year. We seem to ignore the moon these days except when an unpopular politician tries to send a space mission there . . . in an effort to gain a few approval points in the polls. The festival of Diwali (yes, all you Office fans, this is where I learned this term) follows the moon cycles and occurs on a full moon in October and November. Maybe we could start using the moon as a reason for a holiday celebration . . . instead of simply honoring dead white men and Martin Luther King, Jr. I like the moon . . . it's beautifully simple. I love the way it changes colors as it rises over the horizon.

On a more practical standpoint, do we really need an alcohol infused holiday during a season of the year when can be treacherously icy? I know, residents of Sydney, Australia don't have this weather problem but New Year's Eve has become one of the prime nights for alcohol related vehicle "accidents" . . . sorry, DUI accidents are not really "accidents".

Anyway, I'd better stop meandering through my random thoughts. To all you teachers . . . enjoy the last few moments of summer!

A bit of poetry . . .

I like these lines from a poem by Jack Gilbert (disclaimer:  I know nothing about Jack Gilbert, I simply found this when surfing one of my favorite poetry sites).  These are the opening and closing lines of his poem "Failing and Flying".  I like the idea of finding things to celebrate in the middle of apparent failures.  The rest of the poem is a bit more real world and not as enlightening.  You can read it here:  http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16872

Everyone forgets that Icarus also flew . . .

I believe Icarus was not falling as he fell,

but just coming to the end of his triumph.  

If I were not so tired, I'd load a photo with this blog.  Maybe tomorrow . . . maybe in June!  I used to write poetry when I was a college English major.  I was scared off and intimidated when another student ridiculed a poem that I had written poetry workshop.  Maybe I ought to try again . . . 

Endings . . .new beginnings . . .

My school year is almost over.  My students and I always manage to end the year on a good "note" (pun intended, I teach music!).  I am grateful to them for this . . . it helps me to recover from the bleak winter and causes me to look forwards to the next school year.  I like this cycle . . . which caused me to pause when I read an "educational reform" article.  Disclaimer:  music teachers tend to despise anything having to do with educational reform as we are mostly excluded from these efforts.  

While I try to avoid written discourse on educational reform, the concept of year round school keeps popping up in places that I can't avoid.  While I understand that this concept exists to raise standardized test scores, I think that this policy must have been created by people who didn't go to their neighborhood pool in the summer.  It must have been created by people who never climbed the apple tree . . . or picked flowers from their neighbors garden . . . or built a fort in the woods . . . or who went to movie matinees on the hottest days . . . 

Students (and teachers too) should be allowed time away from school to experience personal growth.  The concept of having a new beginning each year is important to student growth.  It allows them to start over each year with mostly new teachers.  Students have the opportunity to shed the baggage from the previous year when they make a fresh start.  When I was growing up, the first day of school was filled with such optimism.  I had a new outfit for the first day and new notebooks and school supplies.  I was always excited to meet my new teacher.  Aren't cycles of renewal part of life?  I think so.  

Year round school is justified by reformers as halting the regression of skills.  Well maybe . . .  anyone who has worked with children know that learning is not always marked by continual progress.  Learning is sometimes easy and sometimes not.  Kids "master" new concepts but sometimes forget them when their class moves on to a new unit.  This is how our brain works.  Pathways are created when new information is assimilated.  Those pathways become stronger when they are consistently used but will fade when not used.  Let's face it . . .  we can't use every pathway in our brains all the time.  Proponents also cite the fact that kids spend most of their time in front of the television . . . well, not all tv is bad!  Besides, most kids I know have too much energy and like to do things.  This faulty reasoning underestimates the need of kids to be active.  

Besides, we are discounting the value of the activities and experiences that children engage in during summer vacations.  Kids go to camp, create art work, take lessons in new things like karate, music instruments, and pottery.  Kids make new friends and discover new internet sites.  They might also develop more proficiency in the current version of Madden.  These are varied experiences that cause cognitive, social, physical, and emotional growth.  We shouldn't discount the importance of spending time with family members.  Our family structure erodes more each year, or so Fox news projects.  Summer vacations are a time when families connect.  Some of my best memories are from the times when my dad and mom would play hide-and-go-seek with all the kids in our neighborhood.  Why would we want to take away the value of spending time with family and friends?  Building effective social relationships has a direct effect on school success.  Why would we want to discount the value of play?  Early childhood educators have always promoted play as a necessary part of learning about our environment.  Shouldn't kids have the opportunity to pick up cool looking rocks and stone and sticks?  

While I do understand the politics of these types of "reform", do we really want to deprive our students of the opportunity to climb a tree, eat a sticky popsicle, or jump off the highest diving board at the pool?  Shouldn't a child be able to start each new school year with optimism and a fresh slate?  Maybe we should give the students a choice:  they can draw on the driveway and sidewalks with chalk or practice their six time tables . . . I suspect that we all know what the result of that question would be!   

Time for Spring!

I really believe in this affective seasonal thing.  Otherwise, why do we all come alive in the spring?  I've always envied true outdoorsy type of people . . . you know, those people who want to be outside even when it is below zero.  I'm not like that, I tend to like being cosy and warm in the winter.  I also have to fight negative thoughts in February and March.  I've truly come to dread those months.  Maybe I need to learn to ski!  Or . . . I could simply ignore this grueling music teacher lifestyle and perhaps go on a vacation like real people.  I know one music teacher who does this most winters.  I think that the mess that I'd come back to would prevent me from wanting to do this again.  Let's face it, teaching strings is not something that most substitute teachers want to deal with.

In the meantime, the weather should just stop teasing us and turn into mild nice weather.  I know I'm lucky, the place that I live has summery weather through September and often into October.  However, winters seem to linger.  My school seems to be going through an extra round of viruses--perhaps good weather would help this.  Fresh air is healthy.

I can tell when the weather is getting nice--my students start trying to sneak outside during rehearsals.  I have a hard time being the "mean teacher" when this happens because I do get it.  However, parents want to see good concerts so we do have to practice.  If I didn't have so many kids, we could practice outside.  

Someone special . . .

I just read the blog of a former student.  She doing missionary work in Nigeria in an orphanage.  She's a really special person . . . one of those people who never ceases to help others.  She's the most faithful person I know.  I wish I could believe in people that way she does.  Her blog is worth checking out and if you are looking for a worthy cause, consider this program.  Her blog, Faith's Heart, is listed on the right hand side of this screen.  

Check out her blog entries and her pictures.  You will see many things that are heartbreaking but the spirit of her work always shines through.  I am proud to know her!

Speaking of photos, I am ready for spring . . . yes, I say this on a daily basis.  I can't wait for soccer to start . . . my youngest child plays soccer.  

I was truly offended when a certain ex-vice presidential candidate who used a political forum to make a negative comparison of "soccer moms" . . . in favor of "hockey moms".  We all support our kids . . . why would someone who aspires to lead this country be so condescending of parents who actively become involved in their kids' activities . . . didn't she want our votes?!!  

Wow, we did it!

I had a lesson today with some young violinists.  This particular group are students who all receive learning support services.  They are grouped together because their schedule is very restrictive, I have few options for times when they can come work with me.  

We have been proceeding through beginning skills very slowly, not always steadily. However, today these students came in and played almost all of our D string songs and exercises really well.  It was like their minds merged into one great energy source.  They played with amazing flow and beautiful musicianship.  I'm still smiling, hours later.  Hours later, I can still see the mixture of intense focus and joy on their faces.  It was truly a "Wow, look what we can do" kind of moment.  These young students were finally able to achieve a sense of flow in their music making.  

We started the lesson with some free improvisation and for once, I stopped teaching and simply facilitated.  I wonder if this allowed them to play freely with flow.  I've started to consider, on an almost daily basis, if we are stifling the natural creativity that all young children possess.  Creativity doesn't have to be artistic.  I've always found a sense of creative satisfaction when I find patterns within mathematical processes.  Designing a science experiment involves the creative consideration of multiple approaches to an idea.  Writing is probably the best example of improvisation.  My favorite writers always use language in a vivid musical style.  

This reminds me of a book that I read a while back.  The author's site is www.freeplay.com.  Stephen Nachmanovitch's ideas are easy to read, insightful, and have real life meaning.  

Spring must come . . . soon. Walt agrees!

I'm ready for spring.  I'm ready for cold weather to go away.  I want to feel warm sun on my face.  I want to drive a car that stays somewhat clean for more than a day.  I want to spend less time tuning my students' string instruments.

Spring must come . . . soon.  

Today, I read a few forgotten poems by Walt Whitman.  As a former English major, I am disappointed that I had forgotten some of his poems.  His writing is almost aural instead of visual, even though most writers try to paint visual pictures with words.  The words that he chooses create vivid sound . . . almost more than images.  Consider this example . . . doesn't it make you hear the city traffic of your favorite city while listening to a lawyer performing arrogantly for the jury and judge . . . Walt sure loved to exclaim (did anyone use as many exclamation points as he).  What an American treasure!  

   Beat!  beat! drums!--blow!  bugles! blow!

   Over the traffic of cities--over the rumble of wheels in the streets;

   Are beds prepared for sleepers at night in the houses?  no sleepers must sleep in those beds,

   No bargainers' bargains by day--no brokers or  speculators--would they continue?

   Would the talkers be talking?  would the singer attempt to sing?

   Would the lawyer rise in the court to state his case before the judge?

   Then rattle quicker, heavier drums--you bugles wilder blow.