I have one (surprising) class that has been driving me crazy lately. A small portion of my students in said class simply will not sing. They were happy--even enthusiastic--about last concert's preparation, but for this concert they've just decided to not sing. That's middle schoolers for you...
After careful consideration (and much time and analysis), I seemed to have found root of the problem. One particularly toxic attitude that infiltrates my choir every other day and brings other, normally tolerable attitudes down with her. For a while, this confused me... then it infuriated me... then it scared me a little.... but now, I have it figured out.
I recently had a conversation with a fellow music teacher who was saying that she always seemed to take her frustration about a particularly silly educational tool out on the same person. My exact words in response were, "Yeah, he understands that it's not him. He's got broad shoulders. He can take it." Even coming out of my mouth the words seemed familiar... where had I heard that before? It bothered me for weeks. I usually can recall whole conversations with people if there's something about it, like a meaningful phrase, that stuck with me. And today I remembered.
(Disclaimer: There are a lot of people in my life who are adamantly not religious. There are a lot of people in my life who are very religious. There are a lot of people in my life who are somewhere in between. To all of you--I tell this next story not for it's religious implications, but for the power of the story, how it impacted me then, and how it relates to what I'm going through now. Kapeesh? ...... btw, if you were a 6th grader, this is the point where you would say "kaposh.")
It had been a weird week at kamp (yes, kamp with a k). My mother was in the hospital for gall-bladder surgery, and things just seemed to be getting worse. She had to have another surgery, but no one seemed to be able to give me real reason (or at least one I could understand...) for why. I had no way to get to her, and I had very little idea of what was going on. Now, I work very, very hard to never lose my cool in public, but at that worship service, I simply fell apart. I bawled and just kept repeating "I don't understand. I don't understand." Everyone there was very kind and said nice things. Some people just listened and asked questions; some people gave advice; but one person, whom I have always considered very wise, offered these words: "Then take it out on Jesus. He's got broad shoulders. He can take it." What she meant was: Jesus knows this ain't his fault. You know this ain't Jesus' fault. Jesus knows you know this ain't his fault.... but he also knows you need someone to lay it on right now. So lay it on him.
Fast-forward six years.... When I first saw the problems in my class, I couldn't understand why it was happening. I started to see the cause of it all and got very angry at my student--why was she being so intolerable? Who gave her the right to act that way? Then, I started to get a little scared--was all of this beyond my control? Was this my fault? Would the toxic attitude eventually take over the whole choir?
No. Something is going on in this girl's life, something beyond the four walls in which I have some control. I didn't cause it; I may very well have nothing to do with it. But I can stop it from affecting my classroom atmosphere. I can stop it from bringing my girls' spirits down. And then, if she wants to take whatever it is out on me (and just me), that's fine. I've got broad shoulders. I can take it.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Monday, January 9, 2012
What a difference a year makes....
It's your typical Sunday night: I come home from choir rehearsal to lay on my bed (with one cat on my feet and the other on my shoulder) with my nose in Educating Esme (only one of the greatest books ever written...especially if you're an educator) for the third time. Re-reading this transformative book forced me to take a hard look at the person I was the last time I read it. It's amazing how one's perspective changes as you go from someone-who-dreams-of-being-in-front-of-a-classroom to someone-who-spends-every-day-in-front-of-a-classroom. Here are the biggest differences, both personally and professionally, between January 2011 Me and January 2012 Me.
1. Lesson Planning:
A year ago today I was just coming back from winter vacation to get ready for my upcoming semester of student teaching. While ready to leave the "3 hours of preparation for every 1 hour of rehearsal" nest, I would have been scared shitless to be thrown in front of a group without at least an hour of notice to prepare my lesson and sequence my ideas. The beginning of my school year in Cedar Rapids wasn't so different. Every now and then I still find my handwritten lesson plans from August and chuckle to myself about my own meticulous teaching. Five or more rehearsals a day (and don't kid yourself... even though I teach the same music and same age group twice, they are very different rehearsals) could make anyone kick that habit in a hurry. Don't get me wrong, I still prepare: I analyze my score, create outcomes, do macro-sequencing, and think about daily goals for my singers, but I certainly don't plan everyday lessons in as great detail as I did at the beginning of the year. And you know what? My girls have never sounded better. Instead of getting caught up in my minute-by-minute plan, I get caught up in their sound and how I want to mold it. The only people suffering from this new plan is the 6th graders. I think I'm going to have to stick with over-prepared teaching for them... they need the structure.
2. Compassion and Empathy Translate:
Did you know that I spent three years working with a community-based program for inner-city kids? Well, I did. I wish I could say that I loved every minute of it, but lying is against my strict moral code (ha). The truth is, it was a challenge. The program itself lacked in the structure that these kids needed, and the children pushed every single boundary imaginable and then some.... but I loved them something fierce. I will never forget walking them to school and having the little girls fight over who got to hold my hand.... or the many, many pieces of grand art I received (the medium often being tempera paint and glitter)... or the ping-pong tricks I was taught.... or the letters to Congress I helped proofread. These kids reached a part of me that I didn't know existed. They taught me to look past the action to the reason behind the action. They forced me to set limits and enforce rules. They made me practice my forgiveness. They made me realize just how big my parachute of compassion and empathy can be. This is why it's my dream to one day teach in the inner-city. I'm not trying to be a savior. I'm just trying to be myself and use the best parts of myself for the benefit of someone else.
But how does this relate to this year? Well, ever since I started that old job, I wondered if I could love any kids as much as I loved those kids. Turns out, I can. I would do almost anything if I knew it was in the best interest of my girls here. But more importantly, my time in the inner-city made me wonder if I could be loveable to any group of kids outside that population (and my time student teaching at Uber-Suburban High only reinforced those thoughts). What I've learned this year is that compassion and empathy translate. Kids know when you've got their backs, and the ones who need it (and, let's be serious... they all need it) will allow you to love them, and then love you right back in return.
3. Routines and Procedures
Ugh... just typing that makes me want to vomit. I feel like I spent the first four months of my teaching career hearing nothing from the district but "routines and procedures".... and thank [insert your preferred deity's name here]. I may pride myself on my clear classroom communication, charismatic teaching, and creative rehearsal techniques... but I could be the next Robert Shaw and it wouldn't matter. The students need structure. My singers need routines. My kiddos need everyday procedures for us to get to a place that they can actually receive my instruction. I may complain to high heaven about my sixth grade situation, but it has at least done one thing for me--it has all but forced me to be a structured, organized individual (quite the task to get me to be that). I do appreciate the importance of this.
4. Kendra vs. Ms. Purscell (or Miss P. if you're in my 4th period choir)
I like to talk about my life. I like to talk about the people in my life to the other people in my life. I always have, and (presumably) always will. So, careful to not step over boundaries, I share anecdotes about my life with my students. One of my 8th graders once joked that when I'm doing school stuff, I'm Ms. Purscell, but when I'm outside of school leading my normal-22-year-old-life, I'm Kendra. The idea has kind of stuck. For example, I'll tell my girls about an outfit or piece of jewelry that I have; when they ask me to wear it, I often will turn them down saying, "It's too Kendra and not enough Ms. Purscell." The trouble is, Cedar Rapids has seen a whole lot of Ms. Purscell, but I'm not sure if Kendra has ever made an appearance here. Sometimes I will look at old facebook pictures from the days when I partied every weekend (*cough*.....and every Tuesday.....*cough*), and most of me will say, "You fool! Get some sleep!" But the rest of me secretly longs for those days when I felt like I (Kendra) fit somewhere. I know relocating is hard for anyone, especially when that someone spends half of her life shy and awkward (after using up all of her people energy on teaching)...but some days I wish I had a life to go back to after leaving school every day. This whole either being at school teaching (and don't get me wrong, Ms. Purscell is quite content here) or being at home doing nothing thing just isn't my fave, even if it was exactly what I needed in the state I was in when I moved here. I'm not saying that I want to go back to partying all the time, but there has to be some sort of happy medium... I'm imagining a kind of "How I Met Your Mother" scene. You get the idea.
5. There's So Much More to Learn
My conducting professor once said to our class, "Don't you just feel like the more you learn, the more you realize that you don't know?" If I had a nickel for every time I felt that way this year. Drake did a great job preparing me for this job, but even with that, there was so much that I had to have my own classroom to understand. I now wish that I could be a fly on the wall in some of the classes I took to really understand where the ideas and theories were coming from. Even more than that, I feel like I have this insatiable desire to know more, to gain new ideas, to develop new plans and strategies. I wish I could go back and re-meet some of the amazing people that I got to meet over the past five years because now I know what questions to ask. Because, while I sure do like to pretend I know everything, my desire to learn never seems to be quenched. But hey, that's life. I'm not sure how the rest of 2012 will turn out, but I hope that in January of 2013 I look back on this post, roll my eyes at how over-dramatic I can be, and know that my knowledge-lust and passion for people will help to see me through every January to come.
1. Lesson Planning:
A year ago today I was just coming back from winter vacation to get ready for my upcoming semester of student teaching. While ready to leave the "3 hours of preparation for every 1 hour of rehearsal" nest, I would have been scared shitless to be thrown in front of a group without at least an hour of notice to prepare my lesson and sequence my ideas. The beginning of my school year in Cedar Rapids wasn't so different. Every now and then I still find my handwritten lesson plans from August and chuckle to myself about my own meticulous teaching. Five or more rehearsals a day (and don't kid yourself... even though I teach the same music and same age group twice, they are very different rehearsals) could make anyone kick that habit in a hurry. Don't get me wrong, I still prepare: I analyze my score, create outcomes, do macro-sequencing, and think about daily goals for my singers, but I certainly don't plan everyday lessons in as great detail as I did at the beginning of the year. And you know what? My girls have never sounded better. Instead of getting caught up in my minute-by-minute plan, I get caught up in their sound and how I want to mold it. The only people suffering from this new plan is the 6th graders. I think I'm going to have to stick with over-prepared teaching for them... they need the structure.
2. Compassion and Empathy Translate:
Did you know that I spent three years working with a community-based program for inner-city kids? Well, I did. I wish I could say that I loved every minute of it, but lying is against my strict moral code (ha). The truth is, it was a challenge. The program itself lacked in the structure that these kids needed, and the children pushed every single boundary imaginable and then some.... but I loved them something fierce. I will never forget walking them to school and having the little girls fight over who got to hold my hand.... or the many, many pieces of grand art I received (the medium often being tempera paint and glitter)... or the ping-pong tricks I was taught.... or the letters to Congress I helped proofread. These kids reached a part of me that I didn't know existed. They taught me to look past the action to the reason behind the action. They forced me to set limits and enforce rules. They made me practice my forgiveness. They made me realize just how big my parachute of compassion and empathy can be. This is why it's my dream to one day teach in the inner-city. I'm not trying to be a savior. I'm just trying to be myself and use the best parts of myself for the benefit of someone else.
But how does this relate to this year? Well, ever since I started that old job, I wondered if I could love any kids as much as I loved those kids. Turns out, I can. I would do almost anything if I knew it was in the best interest of my girls here. But more importantly, my time in the inner-city made me wonder if I could be loveable to any group of kids outside that population (and my time student teaching at Uber-Suburban High only reinforced those thoughts). What I've learned this year is that compassion and empathy translate. Kids know when you've got their backs, and the ones who need it (and, let's be serious... they all need it) will allow you to love them, and then love you right back in return.
3. Routines and Procedures
Ugh... just typing that makes me want to vomit. I feel like I spent the first four months of my teaching career hearing nothing from the district but "routines and procedures".... and thank [insert your preferred deity's name here]. I may pride myself on my clear classroom communication, charismatic teaching, and creative rehearsal techniques... but I could be the next Robert Shaw and it wouldn't matter. The students need structure. My singers need routines. My kiddos need everyday procedures for us to get to a place that they can actually receive my instruction. I may complain to high heaven about my sixth grade situation, but it has at least done one thing for me--it has all but forced me to be a structured, organized individual (quite the task to get me to be that). I do appreciate the importance of this.
4. Kendra vs. Ms. Purscell (or Miss P. if you're in my 4th period choir)
I like to talk about my life. I like to talk about the people in my life to the other people in my life. I always have, and (presumably) always will. So, careful to not step over boundaries, I share anecdotes about my life with my students. One of my 8th graders once joked that when I'm doing school stuff, I'm Ms. Purscell, but when I'm outside of school leading my normal-22-year-old-life, I'm Kendra. The idea has kind of stuck. For example, I'll tell my girls about an outfit or piece of jewelry that I have; when they ask me to wear it, I often will turn them down saying, "It's too Kendra and not enough Ms. Purscell." The trouble is, Cedar Rapids has seen a whole lot of Ms. Purscell, but I'm not sure if Kendra has ever made an appearance here. Sometimes I will look at old facebook pictures from the days when I partied every weekend (*cough*.....and every Tuesday.....*cough*), and most of me will say, "You fool! Get some sleep!" But the rest of me secretly longs for those days when I felt like I (Kendra) fit somewhere. I know relocating is hard for anyone, especially when that someone spends half of her life shy and awkward (after using up all of her people energy on teaching)...but some days I wish I had a life to go back to after leaving school every day. This whole either being at school teaching (and don't get me wrong, Ms. Purscell is quite content here) or being at home doing nothing thing just isn't my fave, even if it was exactly what I needed in the state I was in when I moved here. I'm not saying that I want to go back to partying all the time, but there has to be some sort of happy medium... I'm imagining a kind of "How I Met Your Mother" scene. You get the idea.
5. There's So Much More to Learn
My conducting professor once said to our class, "Don't you just feel like the more you learn, the more you realize that you don't know?" If I had a nickel for every time I felt that way this year. Drake did a great job preparing me for this job, but even with that, there was so much that I had to have my own classroom to understand. I now wish that I could be a fly on the wall in some of the classes I took to really understand where the ideas and theories were coming from. Even more than that, I feel like I have this insatiable desire to know more, to gain new ideas, to develop new plans and strategies. I wish I could go back and re-meet some of the amazing people that I got to meet over the past five years because now I know what questions to ask. Because, while I sure do like to pretend I know everything, my desire to learn never seems to be quenched. But hey, that's life. I'm not sure how the rest of 2012 will turn out, but I hope that in January of 2013 I look back on this post, roll my eyes at how over-dramatic I can be, and know that my knowledge-lust and passion for people will help to see me through every January to come.
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