A student asked me today when I knew I wanted to be a choir teacher. I secretly knew her motivations for asking me (a teacher always knows), so I chose my words carefully. I told her there was never one booming moment when I knew that this was the career for me, but several little memories that together made me believe that teaching music might be my calling. I told her about how I used to sit in rehearsals (regular choir, show choir, various honor choirs) quietly pondering the actions of the director and how it affected our singing, already building my "bag of tricks." I told her about the student-teacher relationship I always dreamed of having with my kids.
This question (and a letter from a student that I got a few weeks ago.... more on that later) has gotten me thinking about the lasting impact teachers make on students. It is both a great opportunity and a weighty responsibility. My students know I'm big into clean slates--if they are willing to admit mistakes and change behaviors, I am willing to forgive and start over (and have done so many, many, many times).... but are students quite as flexible with their forgiveness? Should they have to be? Three months in, I can already give several examples of moments I would give up my left pinky finger to go back and re-do. But how can I expect my students to forgive me when, in reality, I still haven't completely forgiven some of the hurtful things teachers said to me back in the day? I always justified my anger with a they're-the-teacher-they-should-have-known-better. Amazing how it took becoming a teacher to realize that teachers are human.
Big responsibility? Yes. But it's always been the opportunity of the impact that's drawn me to this profession. One of the memories that I shared with my student today was of my final clarinet lesson with a band teacher that I always secretly admired (even though I rolled my eyes at every other word that came out of his mouth......). I had been getting down on my playing the entire lesson (if not the entire year). I'm sure he had just gotten sick of hearing it when he said something along these lines: "If you take away nothing else that I have taught you, remember this--never let yourself believe that you can't do something." I don't recall how I reacted at the time; heck, I probably rolled my eyes at that too. But those words (probably forgotten even by the person who said them) got me through All-State auditions... and collegiate choir auditions..... and job interviews....upwards of eight years later and the sentiment still isn't forgotten by the person who needed to hear it. This is why I feel that, as teachers, it is our belief in our students that makes the greatest impact.
It wasn't until I received a two-page, hand-written letter from a student that I realized that this idea is one I communicate most strongly to my students, maybe even the reason why I have gained my students' allegiance so fully. This particular girl wrote about how grateful she was to be in choir and the play with me; she mentioned how much fun it was, how it helped get her mind off of her parents' divorce, how she had many new friends from these experiences. However, the majority of her letter was about how she never believed she could sing until I made it clear that I think she can; how she was afraid to perform in any way until she realized that I have her back. (I believe the exact words I use in choir--practically every day--are "No worries. I got'chyo back.)
Whatever it is that I give to my students, I hope they know they give back to me ten-fold. It's amazing to watch them learn, hear them improve, see them grow as a community. And, it seems silly, but I still enjoy the messages they write to me on my whiteboard. While my belief in them might have some lasting impact, it is their belief in me that is getting me through this rough, lonely patch of my life. From what they write, I know they see my true character ("You cray-cray, girl!"), I know they see the things that I have a hard time seeing myself ("Ms. P. is soooo cool!" "You're so beautiful, Ms. Purscell!" "Ms. Purscell is the funniest teacher ever!!"), but most of all, they see me as the teacher I had always hoped to be.
