Impossible question of quarantine

"Are we gonna have a concert, or is it cancelled?"

A band kid typed the question that broke my heart. Two weeks before, we had still been operating with hope - continuing to practice concert pieces from a distance, hoping that we'd be together with instruments in hand.

No, fifth grade band won't have a concert this year. They won't have a last lesson in person. They won't get their promotion ceremony, their last day of elementary school, or a day to sign yearbooks with their friends. Coronavirus took all those things from them. 

This was a special group for me, I had most of them for 4 full years. Many of them have been "music kids" since the beginning, playing in Orff ensemble or strings or singing for special events. And yet I can't make a concert happen. I can't give them the satisfaction of taking a piece that they worked so hard on to the stage. 

This was the first year in awhile we decided beginning band would take on a full piece. It's tough since we don't see the full band together (homogenous or semi-homogenous before-school classes only, across 3 different schools) and we only get about 35 minutes per week of instructional time with them. We picked a piece called Dark Towers. The kids LOVED it. They rose to the challenge, we were 2/3 of the way through before school closed and still had almost 2 months until concert day. 

The good news: the piece will go with them to middle school next year, where they'll have a phenomenal director who's not only excited to work on the piece with them, but who wants to have me and my elementary band colleague back to perform the piece with the kids who had their end of year concert stolen. 

The not good news: we don't know what band will look like in the fall. If band will be. If making music in the same room will even happen. The concert is cancelled. I don't have a silver lining of certainty to answer that student question with.

I still vividly remember my own fifth grade band concert at the end of the year. We got to use a local outdoor amphitheater, to stand on the same stage where so many amazing musicians had performed. We played "Hot Hot Hot" and my Grandma brought me flowers. My students this year won't have those memories. But I hope they'll take with them memories of working hard, laughing a lot, and making music together. And hopefully, we'll take Dark Towers to the stage in a few months. 

I Hear the World Singing (after Walt Whitman's "I Hear America Singing")

I hear the world singing in sorrow and joy,
The faithful sing for their church in Paris, Ave Maria for the history lost.
The victors in another athletics event sing their country's anthem,
And some children add "cha-cha cha" to every Happy Birthday.
They sing to their babies, their elders, their lovers,
To mourn, to comfort, to celebrate.
And yet I wonder: do those in the ivory tower, the keepers of the music
Even hear the singing outside?
If music becomes do-ti-do, I V I, it's no longer music at all
For the heart's been ripped out leaving empty notes that mean nothing, plunks of futility.
"It's just music" they'll say, or critique intonation and the tempo that never quite settles
The singing's alive with the hearts of its singers but there's no notation for that.
If "why music?" is still the question they're asking, maybe they need to come down from the tower
Music isn't numbers and it isn't on paper, it's alive in the streets and the fields
I'd rather sing with the masses than with those who can't hear the beauty.
Hallelujah, they cannot trap me in their tower any more.

What's the point?

I had an observation a few weeks ago, and due to life happening didn't have a post-conference until this week. It went fine, with the usual questions and recommendations that I always expect from being observed by an administrator who hasn't taught music. But one question stuck out to me: why were students working towards this objective, and how did they know? It's a legitimate question, and something I definitely hadn't made explicit even though I did have a plan for why they were doing this and where they were going with it. It didn't strike me because of my lesson that I taught. It struck me because of my experiences in grad school.

This is week 2 of my last class, I'm finally almost done. But I have no idea why I'm being asked to re-read articles I've written about before in order to put together a summary in this course's preferred format. I have no idea why I'm being treated like a middle schooler with lots incremental deadlines and paper pushing in the capstone of a masters degree. I have no idea why I have to sit through "live classroom" online meetings that say the same thing I have already read in the course content. Literally, the point of every class activity for me so far is to jump through one of the hoops remaining between me and an expensive piece of paper I need for a pay raise and recertification. It's compliance in the worst sense, doing things for the sake of following directions, earning points, and getting through this as quickly and painlessly as possible. I did an assignment last week figuring it was just barely enough to earn an A... and I was right. Sure, I'd learn more if I put more in. But I just can't. There's no point. Beyond finishing this degree, doing the tasks of this class is merely teaching me how to be a compliant point-grubber who formats really well. It's not learning. It's not useful. Another $3000 plus wasted on educational hypocrisy. Only 72 days until I'm done learning how not to teach.

From Football to the Music Room

Lessons to be taken from the Patriots AFC Championship win:

Never give up, even in the face of obstacles
The Patriots body language on the sidelines is always fascinating. They get frustrated - Belichick swore and threw the tablet - but they never counted themselves out. Even when the Chiefs were up, they were in the game, encouraging their team, and trying to win.

Learning an instrument is hard. Maybe not pro football hard, but difficult and frustrating and sometimes it seems like a certain note or skill will never, ever happen. And yet with enough time, effort, and ragged determination, it happens.

Life isn't fair, play on
There were some horrible officiating calls in the game. Things aren't always just or fair or equal. Sometimes you get five less rehearsals because of snow days, sometimes your instrument's part is way harder than another's, sometimes you don't get that glockenspiel you were desperate to play. And yet we play on, we keep going, we keep trying in spite of whatever circumstances are thrown our way.

Practice hard, but have fun
Sports and music both take focused practice and effort. Improving skills, whether in football or music, requires work. Whether it's a football play or a musical scale, doing the same thing 100 times takes determination and tenacity. Doing the same thing 100 times and improving each time takes effective effort and self-awareness. Those who work hard can always get ahead.

Among all that hard work, find joy and levity. Tom Brady's look of joy after that trick play (that didn't work) or a fifth grader's laugher after figuring out Baby Shark both show the fun and rewards of trying hard. There can be moments of levity amongst hard work and practice, in fact there need to be in order to keep things moving forwards.

Champions win before they're on the field
It's all about preparation. The concert isn't where kids learn music. The Super Bowl isn't where the Patriots get good at football. Success requires preparation and systematic improvement, not simply to show up for the big day. Confidence comes from preparation and practice, and confidence encourages excellent performance. It's not about being perfect, or never deviating from a strict script, but it's about knowing that you've practiced and prepared as much as possible and are able to excel in the situation.

I'll be back in the classroom smiling on Tuesday... and cheering on the Patriots in the Super Bowl!!!!

The Beginning and the End

My school district hosted our All-Districts music festival last Friday. Before I made my way over to the high school to help out and observe some master conductors at work with the best and brightest high school musicians in the area, I held a before-school beginning band rehearsal for our first concert. It went well, as I expected it to. The kids have been working hard in their group lessons, practicing at home, and taking risks to help them improve their playing. We're taking on the beginning band classics, Hot Cross Buns and Mary Had A Little Lamb, and playing We Will Rock You for a fun ending that's a bit more relevant to pop culture. Our two "harder" songs have four notes each. This is absolutely normal and developmentally appropriate for beginning band, given our rehearsal schedule and the age of the students.

The All-Districts band I got to watch, on the other hand, was playing dozens of notes. They took on some amazing rep, including Wagner's Elsa's Procession to the Cathedral and a very difficult Persichetti piece. The chorus, orchestra, percussion, and jazz ensemble were likewise grappling with challenging music, pieces which represent significant artistic achievement in their respective musical fields.

It's fascinating to see the differences in these two groups, and the similarities. "Breathe together to play together", a phrase my beginning band students have heard enough to finish for me, doesn't just apply to fifth graders. Students talked and laughed together during breaks, just as my students tend to do. They left instruments in precarious positions, just as my students do.

For many of the All-Districts students, they're at or near the pinnacle of their musical journeys - for some, even near the end - while my fifth graders are just beginning to understand and experience band. It's gratifying to see where they're going musically, that their potential in six or seven years includes more than five notes and making beautiful music together. But it's also helped me to see the beauty in simplicity, in getting students to play simple music really well. So much of the limited district rehearsal time was spent on fundamentals, things that my students are already working on. Playing a scale in tune is hard! It takes years of practice! But it's important, even if it's not immediately gratifying. Good beginnings are so important in music, so that students can excel when they get to All-Districts or just life beyond elementary school band. It's not about Hot Cross Buns, it's about building the skills to go beyond the basics later.

Teaching Through

It's been quite a week:

• I had to go on antibiotics because of a case of an infectious disease at my school
•  My school got a bomb threat on Friday (unfounded and non-credible, the same ones sent to schools across the country)
• I got observed 4 days before break
• I have a whole-school singalong to run on Friday

And I just keep teaching... Teaching through a headache and other bad side effects so I don't get seriously ill (get your vaccines!). Teaching through police searching for suspicious packages. Teaching while two administrators watch me try to keep the lid on a boiling pot of first-grade excitement for break. Teaching while trying to find the hours in the day to do all the other parts of my job besides teaching. 

Just keep teaching... just keep teaching... just keep teaching...

The Hills and Valleys of December

Teaching in December is:
a. exciting
b. exhausting
c. frustrating
d. all of the above

Today was a long Monday, and last week was one of the toughest weeks of teaching for me ever. Teaching in December is different from the rest of the year. Not worse, exactly, it's fun to see the kids excited and there's lots of cool events happening, but it's tiring. That hundredth time asking kids to quiet down isn't quite as gentle as the first time. The fifth time kids start randomly singing jingle bells in the middle of another song isn't as endearing as the first time. There's so much joy, so much energy, and so much to do in too little time. December is like a microcosm of the school year, with lots of highs and lows and sugar crashes and drinking too much coffee (or is that just me?).

The best moments, though, come at those times of exhaustion and frustration. I've been using the last few minutes of my music classes to work on songs for our December singalong. We do a big all-school pajama day before break, and I like to do a few non-traditional songs that require the kids to learn a bit of choreography and some short tunes. It's fun, no pressure, and gets us all dancing our way into break. And just when I'm about to remind a student about behavior for the tenth time, they'll perk up and join us in snow hands or "shine fingers" (yes, I renamed jazz hands) or some other silly movement. There's magic in all that energy, in having 20 kindergarteners shove peace signs as close to your face as they can from their seat because they're SO EXCITED about a song they're doing with the "big kids".

I'll be spending the next 9 school days looking for those magic moments, and surviving the frustrating times in between. And then I will take a very long, well deserved winter break nap.

Thankful

This Thanksgiving break, I've been reflecting on the good in my teaching situation. It's very easy to get caught up in the "could be" "should be" mentality, and while there are things that could be improved, I'm really lucky and have a lot to be thankful for:

• I'm thankful that all students in my school have music taught by a trained music teacher.
• I'm thankful that my school has a music room (a lot of schools don't), a dedicated space for music making.
• I'm thankful that I have supportive colleagues I can confide in.
• I'm thankful that my students have instruments to play, and that they're able to experience a wide variety of high-quality instruments in music class.
• I'm thankful that grants help me get more instruments for my students and replace those that are worn or damaged.
• I'm thankful for the enthusiasm of my students.
• I'm thankful for supportive families who bring students to outside events and rehearsals beyond the school day.

Things aren't perfect in my school or any other, but I'll be going back to school tomorrow filled with gratitude for what my students and I have.

The Bad and the Good

I've written before about being a grad school student while teaching, and some of the challenges and benefits. My fall class was a lot better than my summer classes, and one idea from the class has stuck with me even though I'm done with the class now: music education is not inherently good. It seemed ironic to hear a question about whether music education was good in a music education degree program in which most of us had spent a years in the field and were currently spending $3,500 to take a music education class. But something about the articles we read and the premise of the question makes so much sense: not every educational experience is a good one.

Education as a harmful experience has helped me make sense of so many of my own school experiences, both as a K-12 student and in college and grad school. Not every class helped me learn something (though I wrote a snarky "this class has taught me how not to teach" on more than one course evaluation) useful. Not every class was worth the time and effort I put in. There's a reason some school experiences didn't work for me beyond my flaws as a student, of which there are many.

But so much of education is good. An a-ha moment about a topic students really care about. Bonding over a certain song, whether it's as part of a Red Sox victory celebration or a more serious occasion. Laughing with a class until everyone needs a drink of water. Hugs from students. Working hard on something and improving on it. Having those goosebump musical moments. It's up to teachers to make those good experiences happen more often, to help students learn and have positive school experiences. This isn't to say teachers should aim to be perfect. Or to "save" students. But if we can find something at school for every kid to look forward to every day, maybe things will be a little better. Or maybe, we can look at experiences that are hurtful for a lot of students (cough, standardized testing, cough) and reimagine a better way.

Me, I'll take the bad with the good, and be grateful that it seems the worst of my experiences as a student should be behind me.

Beginning Band and the Joy of Starting Again

If you've never heard a first day beginning band class, you should. Also, go hug your friendly neighborhood beginning band teacher. The first week of band is incredible, joyful, and totally exhausting. There's an entire world of things to teach, from how to assemble instruments to how to make a sound to how to get the spit condensation out after playing (gross, but necessary). But there's this spark in the students that makes it all worth it, even when I find myself saying "left hand on top" for the millionth time. They chose to play an instrument, and are so excited to finally get to do it. The first sounds are always full of squeaks, squawks, and whistles. They're often followed by laughter or disgusted-looking faces. But that moment right before they play, that first inhalation as a group... that's where the magic is.

One breath, one momentary collective pause, holds so much potential. They made the choice, honored the commitment and showed up, and now they're headed somewhere. It might be towards our first concert, middle school band, or maybe even a professional musician gig, but nonetheless we're working towards something. They're cooperating, collaborating, and all those other buzzwords. And they're taking a big risk, because after that breath in...

There's a sound. A joyful noise, as a I call it. Something, even if just a whisper of air, comes out of their instrument. But it's a start. Something to work from. The first note of thousands more to come. There's so much beauty in potential, in hope, in moving forward. In learning and improving. Beginning band has so much to teach... especially to this band teacher.

Another September

I'm three weeks into the school year, and time has flown by. With assemblies, instrument rental night, meetings, and coordination between schools, it seems like I've spent more time at work than not. But things are good, I finally feel like the coming week will be more about teaching than managing logistics.

For me, September is always a complicated month. I love the start of the new school year, a chance to start fresh and improve. It's always refreshing to see students' friendly faces again after a couple months away. But it's also a time of change, and I've never been super excited for change. I'm working with a bunch of new colleagues this year - they're great, but it's different than last year - and some district systems are new. I started taking a new grad class (which seems good so far and can't possibly be worse than the last one) so that's another transition.

But every September ends (cue the Green Day song...) and a new normal starts. I'm more relaxed with my students this year, and they seem more relaxed with me. This is my third year at my current school, so I think part of it is comfortable familiarity. Planning lessons has gotten way faster for me, and I've accepted that I'll always spend a little bit of time grappling with spreadsheets. I'm really grateful to be in a place where for the most part I can focus on teaching my students. I have a budget that gets me what I really need, and supportive supervisors. I don't have to give standardized tests or teach in a substandard space not suitable for human occupancy.  Things are good, even when they aren't great.

And so as another September comes to an end, I'm settling in. It's going to be a great year!

What I Wish I Knew Before I Started Teaching

I'm still a newish teacher (going into my fourth year overall, third in the same district). But I've learned a lot since I started, some of which will never be in a traditional teacher training program. Here's my big takeaways:

No curriculum is perfect. Do what the kids need, not what the book or computer screen says.
My first district used a very overpriced, very scripted curriculum. Frankly, it wasn't very good. And teaching from a script wasn't fun. But I did it, because I didn't know any better and because I was criticized early on for deviating. Students, and groups of students, are all different. It's more important to teach what they need than what any piece of paper or screen states they "should" learn. Don't do rhythms with kids who don't keep a steady beat yet. It won't work. Read the room, have an actual human to human conversation with students, and teach what they need. Sometimes, a dance party is more important than the planned lesson. Or a folk dance lesson becomes a lesson on respect. That's okay. Adapting is important. Obviously, teach content, not fluff, but teach the students in front of you. They'll get where they need to be, even if it takes a little more time.

Learn from everyone.
Yes, it's easy to get caught in a teacher echo chamber. It feels better to only talk to brand-new teachers who are just as scared and worn down and clueless as you might feel. But those who have been there before can help you grow. Most teachers aren't scary people if you talk to them. That being said, avoid toxicity like the plague because it spreads. Ain't nobody got time for Negative Nancys. I've learned classroom management tricks from lunch monitors, movement strategies from PE teachers, organizing strategies from classroom teachers, and many more. Don't just stay in your lane, learn and borrow from those around you.

Understand you'll be misunderstood
Especially as a music teacher, there will be misunderstandings. Schedules will get mixed up. Observers will focus on something that has nothing to do with music or teaching. You'll be asked to teach kids you only see on Tuesday a song by Monday... when it's Friday. Things will work out. Communicate clearly, firmly, but respectfully. There's no sense in yelling about things when simply educating adults will work better. Explain that you cannot possibly teach kindergarten and fifth grade back-to-back without passing time because the room setup for fifth grade isn't safe for younger students, or why chorus with 100 kids on Friday afternoon might be a struggle. Explain what the curriculum indicates students should be learning, and why you taught it as you did. Let the teacher who asks for a song performance ready that it's too last minute and you'd be glad to offer support next time with more advance notice. Most people in schools really do have students' best interests at heart, even if it sometimes creates inconvenience. Explaining your reasoning while setting boundaries helps to maintain and build respectful relationships. It's okay to vent (to people outside the situation) about frustrations with this too! It is hard being misunderstood, or being seen as an entertainer.

Have fun
There's so much joy to be found in making music with students. Not all days will be fun, not all classes will be fun, but there are bright moments even in the exhausting, frustrating times. It's okay to laugh at a kid's joke that makes no sense, or freeze dance when you finish a lesson two minutes early. Don't be the teacher who doesn't smile until Christmas, it's not healthy for students or adults.

The middle is a good place to be
There are few things in education that require an extreme view. Though many topics are polarizing in education (and especially music education) circles, there's no reason to create a false binary where there isn't one. It's not pop music vs. classical music. Or Kodaly vs. Orff vs. Gordon. Use what works for you, no matter where it came from. Different teachers, schools, and students need different things. It's better to be yourself than to unthinkingly follow any method, philosophy, or idea.

It does get easier, except when it doesn't
Being a first year teacher is hard, exhausting, frustrating, and taxing in a way that no program can truly prepare you for. But that's not to say everything after is easy. There will always be things about teaching, or anything else, that are hard. But the hard things get easier, you develop new skills, and you'll develop a compass of what's normal or acceptable for you and what isn't. It's absolutely okay to change things or move to a new position if it's what will work for you. Some positions aren't right for some people. It's okay to leave. Ask for help on the things that are still hard.

No (lesson, teacher, district, school, fill-in-the-blank) is perfect
Even the teachers with the Pinterest perfect classrooms are human beings with flaws. Even that "dream position" has its downsides. Don't focus on finding the perfect lesson, poster, school, or boss. Absolutely find yourself a workable situation and a healthy work environment, but don't chase after perfection that doesn't exist. I love my school and district, but I know that it has flaws, as does every other district I'm familiar with. Find things to be grateful about in your current situation rather than always lusting after something better.

Be kind
This one is last, but also most important. Being kind to yourself, students, and co-workers will pay dividends in so many ways. There is no use in teachers bashing themselves, or blaming their students. Complaining about a colleague behind their back won't change anything. It is okay and perfectly normal to have tough teaching days. It doesn't mean you're a bad teacher. Kids had bad days too. It doesn't mean they're bad kids or are out to get you. Kindness is one of the most important things we can teach and model for our students, especially those who may not be treated with kindness outside of school. And being kind to ourselves is necessary! You can't take care of students if you don't take care of yourself.

That Aristotle Quote

If you've been around education for any length of time, you've seen it:

"Educating the mind without educating the heart is no education at all" - Aristotle

Whether it's really by Aristotle or not (my guess is no), there's some truth behind what sounds like another edu-platitude. People can easily memorize or "learn" without actually being changed. It's possible to know all the facts and feel no empathy or compassion. And sometimes, it's possible to force "learning" in the shallow sense onto students while actively hurting their hearts, while damaging their love of education and learning and knowledge.

I'm gonna be honest: this summer has been brutal. Summer classes are always annoying, something about doing school work while not teaching just feels wrong. They're a fact of the masters degree program I chose, so it's my own fault. But my current class isn't just miserable because it's August. It's killing my love of learning, of music, of being a student. I'd do almost anything not to have this class poison my mind. But it's a requirement, so I'm trudging through, day by day and week by week. In 8 days it will be over, and I'll be forever changed in a way that no student should ever be changed by a class.

It hurts my heart to be in a class where only music by white males is valued. It hurts my heart to know my university's requirements privilege this class steeped in oppressive practices over much more important, meaningful material that would help me be my best for my students. It hurts my heart to know that the hours I spent on homework will be reduced to dismissive feedback and a numerical grade that seems entirely arbitrary.

Those who teach can have such an influence. They can do so much good or so much harm. They can use positional authority to support those who are marginalized, or to further hurt those already struggling. They can respond to a struggling student with compassion, or with reactionary anger. It hurts to be on the receiving side of harmful educational practices. It hurts to spend hours on pointless assignments. It hurts to get negative feedback delivered in a blunt, abrasive way. It hurts to know I'm expected to suffer silently, to suck it up and struggle through without making waves. It hurts to cry in frustration over a course that cost me over $3,500 but provides little support or encouragement.

My heart is hurting. I'm exhausted. I'm not yet in a state of mind to give 100% for my students. Fortunately I have some downtime to recover from this traumatic "educational" experience before I'm back in the classroom. I'll carry memories of how much harm this class has done me, and pledge never to be a teacher who has that impact on students.

Teacher Summer Reading: The Power of Habit by Charles Duhigg

I've been doing a lot of lazy reading on the couch this summer and figured I would write about some of those books (in addition to picture books to use with students). To be clear, I don't *expect* teachers to do summer reading... we work hard enough during the year! But for those of us who enjoy reading over break, here we go!

This week's book was The Power of Habit: Why We Do What We Do in Life and Business by Charles Duhigg. I was able to borrow the e-book for free via my local library in the Libby app, so it's worth checking there if you'd like to save money and support your library! 

This book was about how our unconscious habits impact every part of our lives, often in unexpected ways. Most people can appreciate that actions have consequences, but the consequences of our habits often span far beyond what we might predict. Because teachers especially have to make a lot of decisions in the course of our work, I think we likely rely heavily on habits to avoid decision paralysis and fatigue. 

The book doesn't aim to eliminate habits, or even label them as "bad" the way so many Pinterest articles seem to. Instead, it looks at the possibility of changing habits to make them better fit with goals and desires. By tweaking what we already do without thinking, we are able to come closer to our ideal selves without the need for extreme willpower or constant conscious decision making. 

Considering habits, especially cognitive habits, made me think about the things I do without thinking at school, from coming into my classroom the same way every school day to planning lessons following a certain routine. It also made me consider my habits outside of school, like binge-watching TV when I want to avoid cleaning or some other dreaded task. Just thinking about these habits, making the unconscious routines conscious, was eye-opening for me and helpful to consider.

The real power of habit is in leveraging them to work towards a goal. I started thinking about what habits I could change in my own life. So far, I've come up with adjusting my typical before-school habit of setting up the room, then making copies or checking email. Though I am very set in this habit, I know that I would be more productive if I changed it so that I wasn't trying to copy when many other teachers were also trying to copy, and I could work on plans or other tiring tasks while I had energy from my morning coffee.

I think this book will help me with getting students into certain habits as well. The book points out repeatedly that other people general can't force a habit change, though they can help develop them. For one, I hope to get my band kids into the habit of practicing frequently. Because they're new to playing an instrument, it's likely not something they'll know how to make a habit of, but as a semi-successful practice-er of 17 years I can help coach them towards building their practice stamina and making playing their instruments part of their daily routine. Additionally, I want to build classroom rehearsal habits with my students - not just the typical routines and procedures - in order to address the way we think, act, and make music in our classes.  

I found The Power of Habit to be an easy read, and an enjoyable one. It does sometimes seem to state the obvious, but never for more than a skimable paragraph. It's worth reading if you'd like to think about the things you don't think about doing! 

The perils of requirements

Teachers, can you think of how many times you've had to do something only because it's required? Whether a governmental regulation, administrator, parent, or other stakeholder requires something, the brunt of requirements often falls into the classroom and onto the shoulders of teachers. Except when it doesn't. Sometimes it falls right onto students.

I'm currently living the teacher and student double life - teacher by day (when it's not summer break) and graduate student by night - and finding many frustrations in being required to do something as a student. Yes, requirements as a teacher are exhausting, frustrating, and tiresome, but as a student it directly impacts learning and can entirely deplete motivation.

I decided to do my masters degree now for a few different reasons. For one, it's required for me to keep teaching in my state. I also hoped to improve my pedagogy and learn new ideas I could use with my students. Both of those were great motivations, until now.

I'm taking a dreaded, required class. It's a subject I actively dislike, and one that I know I'm terrible at. I also know that it's required for the program not because it's critical material for everyone with the degree to know (it isn't) but because one group lobbied the accrediting body to make it a requirement for their own self-interest (employment of professors in large numbers) rather than because it's good for students.

Knowing this class is a requirement for no good reason has made me want to scream almost as many times as actually doing the work for the class has. With an unhelpful TA, lots of busywork, and absolutely no attempt to be culturally relevant, this course has become an absolute nightmare for me. I'm not even a little engaged. I have no desire to put in effort, and only do work for the grade. And yet I have to take it. Because it's required. Because I'm supposed to. Because it's "right". No, studying music exclusively of dead white guys and boiling every meaningful piece of auditory art down to numbers and words isn't right. It isn't good for me. It isn't helping me be a better teacher, a better human, or a better musician. Music isn't about reducing sound to numbers (both Roman and Arabic numerals  to be extra pretentious) or writing paragraphs about why some guy picked a certain note 350 years ago. Music is about thinking, feeling, doing, and being artistically.

So here I am, trudging through a requirement that's burning me out and breaking me down. Taking a class that's stuck in the past in a supposedly progressive degree program. Dealing with bad pedagogy because I'm required to. It's sad, and it feels like a waste of my summer. Yet I do it, all for an overpriced piece of paper that says I met requirements decided by someone without my best interest in mind.

How many times do our students have to do something because it's required?

To be clear, I'm not advocating for the absence of rules or only coming to school when they feel like it or anything that dramatic. Sometimes, requirements are necessary and are actually for the good of students. School is required so that students can learn skills that will help them function in society. Rules are required to be followed to keep students safe. But there are some requirements that are for teacher convenience or due to regulations more than for the good of students. The excessive amount of standardized testing, for example, is not required because testing is good for kids.

I'll be reflecting on what I required for students, both formally and informally, and why or why not that's a good choice. For example, does it always make sense to require students to be sitting/standing in certain spots during direct instruction? Does it always make sense to require students to do an assessment on the day that it's in my plan book? Does it always make sense to require a student to play a particular song if they dislike it? The answer to all of these questions, I think, should be sometimes. There might be a certain portion of a lesson's direct instruction that can't accomplish its goal without students in a specific position. But other times, a choice of position and the flexibility to move between positions might be fine. Sometimes, an assessment needs to be done on a certain day so that I can complete report cards or move on to new material, but other times flexibility to account for testing in other subjects, emotional state, and practice time can be best. In some cases, I want to or need to have students play a particular song for an assessment or to do a cooperative activities, but other times I can let them choose from a selection of songs or even decide on a song independently.

Like most things in education, there aren't easy answers or always-right platitudes that cover the depth and breadth of what goes on in a classroom, but it's worth thinking about what is required, what should be required, and why.

Progress in Mediocrity

I managed to snag a great deal on a clarinet this summer to complete my basic woodwind trifecta. I haven't played much in several years, but I know it's easier for my students to learn an instrument through hearing a model. So here I am, practicing my clarinet fundamentals again. It's certainly easier this time than when I first picked up the instrument during my undergrad. But I sound mediocre. Actually, mediocre might be generous. I sound pretty bad, a mix of Squidward and some kind of very angry bird. I know that's normal, I've had a clarinet in my possession for two days and learning an instrument takes time. The basics are coming back to me pretty quickly, and I've been able to play through most first and second year band music without too much trouble. My sound is getting better. I'm noticing and changing some weird embouchure tendencies that will help me play more advanced music. My fingers are starting to know where to go and when in familiar tunes.

Even as a mediocre clarinetist, progress is possible. In fact, I think progress is easier to see in mediocrity. Going from playing a tune with three squeaks to zero is a very clear measure of improvement. Being able to play a song ten clicks faster than I could yesterday is a clear measure of progress. There's something to be said for remembering how it feels to wield an instrument that isn't quite comfortable yet, to feel the discomfort of muscle fatigue and unfamiliar sensation. Clarinet isn't foreign, it's very similar to flute and saxophone, both of which I play at a better-than-mediocre level. But it's different enough to force me to remember what it's like to be mediocre.

Mediocrity is hard! It's frustrating to see so much clarinet music that I can't play yet. To have to stop to look up fingerings when less common notes happen. To have to play slower-than-slow on a piece I could play at lightning speed on another instrument. And solving major musical problems (squeaks, incorrect notes, etc.) is much more exhausting than fine-tuning the details as I would on flute. No wonder my students get frustrated with the process.

Playing an instrument takes practice. There's no changing that. Looking beyond mediocrity is not that easy when you're in the thick of it, trying to remember the fingering for G-sharp for the third time and keep your teeth on top of the mouthpiece. But progress is possible, progress is rewarding, and progress will happen. Instrument fundamentals are an exercise in patience just as much as a physical exercise.

Begin Again

18 days into summer break, and I received the all-clear email that I can go set up my room whenever now that the floors in my wing are done. While I probably won't head into school for a couple more weeks, I always feel like that email saying we can access our rooms marks the beginning of another year. I'm staying in the same school with the same basic teaching assignment this year (thank goodness!) but so much around me will be changing that it feels like a big transition.

I did an end-of-year pack-up of questionable quality, throwing some things into drawers simply because I didn't want to have to make a decision about them. I did manage to clear out some materials well past their prime, including scratched records and an autoharp that will be re-purposed for games for our district music festival. I probably could have done more but my June teacher brain was so tired that I just didn't.

There is always more to do. So when I get back to my classroom, it will be how I left it (thankfully my awesome custodians make sure instruments aren't damaged as they clean) and I will do what I can to get everything how I want it to start the year. Nothing will explode if I don't have everything just so and there's a few post-it pads or pens out of their usual place. I'll do what is really important for my students and do the best I can with the rest. And it will be enough.

When deciding what is most important for me to do for students, I think about what is necessary, especially for the beginning of the year. I was able to leave my staff reading bulletin board in place, as well as my schedule board, so those will be easy to freshen up. There's a few important posters I need to get back up on the walls (some rhythm and instrument anchor charts, plus a Harry Potter poster that I just enjoy). I also want to get instruments set up, since that impacts traffic flow through the room and I like for kids to walk in and see the music room in its "real" setup on the very first day so that we can do procedures in a way that works with everything set up from day 1. Of course, planning lessons is key too! I try to do a lot of copying in August since there's less teachers waiting to use the copiers. Since I make booklets to use a multi-class sub plan, I'll copy and assemble those before the year starts so I'm ready just in case I need to be out.

Most of what I'm setting up isn't going to change a lot from how I had things last year. My room last year worked well for me and my students. Yes, I have some fresh lesson ideas and some fantastic new books, including the ones I've blogged about, but the physical setup of my room will be largely the same.

So I will begin again, much in the same way I do every year, despite changes all around me. I will choose to be stability and consistency, and to provide the best possible environment for my students. But first, a few more weeks of relaxation.

Taking things slowly

I started a really long rambling post without a clear topic, but it's not ready for public consumption yet (maybe not ever). Posting it wouldn't be productive, and I don't even think typing it out at warp speed was cathartic. This post was my reaction to writing that ramble-post for no reason. Recent events and what I've been reading have made me do a lot of thinking and arguing with myself and debating some new ideas in the last week or so. I've realized that this is going to be a summer of transition for me in a lot of ways, and that means time to process is even more important than it usually is.

Transitions are hard. They're hard for students (half of Pinterest seems to be transition procedures for the classroom), and they're hard for adults. I can handle going from reading to going outside a little easier than your average elementary school student (most of the time), but big changes are still challenging. Change means facing something new, something unknown and maybe uncomfortable. Doing things the same way isn't hard, humans build habits and can auto-pilot a lot of tasks. I don't have to think about walking across a room to do it, but crab crawling across the room would take a lot more planning and thinking (and arm strength!). It isn't comfortable because it isn't a routine.

And routines are good, to a point. I'm not advocating for classroom or personal life chaos even a little bit. Routine is what lets the magic happen. You can't play a difficult piece of music without having a routine for how your hold the instrument, and a routine for how you start the first sound. But the routine should a starting point. More launch pad than jail cell. Sure, I always go through getting ready in the same order each morning, but that's just to get out the door to more exciting things. Doing the same thing the same exact way every day would eventually become boring and stifling. Nothing new happens when things are fully routine. But a lot of my routines are being upended in the next few months for different reasons. It's necessary. Yet it's scary. I know it's going to take time for me to be okay with all the changes and routine interruptions that are about to happen. I need to process what's coming to prepare as best I can.

It feels impossible to take time to process for me right now. My teacher brain gets trained during the school year to be always on, always anticipating what could happen, imagining possibilities and responses each of them. I'm use to running, running, running, and then making lists of things to run to do later. Summer is a much different pace for me, but I know I still tend towards snap decision making and overreactions because of the habits I've built.

It's actually really hard to do things slowly. To think over something for longer than is comfortable. To play a scale accurately at 50 beats per minute. To reflect on what has been without looking towards what will be. Many times this year I would beg students to go slowly, to take their time, to think deeper, but I don't think I good about actually doing this myself.

So I will be aiming to take things slow... when I can and when it feels right. Changes take time to sink in, and I need to give thoughts and feelings some time to percolate before throwing them all over or reacting.

Here are my "slow goals" for now:

1. Be patient with myself in coping with change.
2. Do at least 5 minutes of focused instrument practice at half or 3/4 speed at least 4 times per week.
3. Re-read something short that I need to think more about at least three times a week, and take time to think or write about the topic immediate after reading.
4. Do PT exercises slowly but smoothly at a dedicated time rather than when rushing to take care of something else
5. Spend less time on email and more time enjoying summer
6. Break down grad school assignments into less overwhelming chunks.
7. Have at least three slow, meaningful offline conversations per week

Our society, and teaching especially, tends to encourage speed over depth, urgency over importance. I'm trying to break that cycle for the sake of my physical and mental health. Rushing through everything might temporarily avoid anxiety and feel "productive", but it's not healthy or sustainable for me. I'm trying to do better.