Just Don't Do It...The Things I Would Not Do

I was watching the Today show as I was trying to wake up this morning...I had been up again at 4AM, tossed and turned until 6AM and then - as us usual when this happens - I fell soundly asleep again.  Fighting to wake up, I was watching Ann Curry interview President Clinton about his book choices for the holidays.  He mentioned Meditations by Marcus Aurelius (edited of course, from the Greek).  I found myself sitting up and taking notice when Clinton said, "When people are in power, it is most important to think about what they would not do." And I instantly thought of the "Just Do It" mentality of the world we live in...what would that mean if we had to consider what we would NOT just do...

I thought about what Clinton said about watching people running for office.  Is it hard to figure out where they draw the line in the sand? Or is it rhetoric? And it got me thinking about the cues you might take from folks about what they just would NOT do.  It speaks directly to the heart of what we are made of.  What we value about ourselves and other.  What we hold most dearly about living life.  Isn't that hard?

I suppose you can say, well, you know if someone is anti-(fill in the blank here), that is what they wouldn't do.  Only I am not sure that is true.  What if it is your daughter who is raped and left pregnant at 14?  Until you stand in those shoes, can you truly say what you wouldn't do?  Maybe.  If  you knew there was a medication that would save a loved one from certain death, would you steal it if that was the only way to get it?  Do you know, until you are faced with those choices? So do the politicians have any way of sharing some 'tested-by-fire' morals they have? Or does their past behavior determine their future behavior? Do we forgive the past behavior in hopes the future will allow them to make better choices?

Those are extreme moral dilemmas, and of course, most of us will never have to face that in our lifetimes. Most of us will never plan to run for public office.  We do have to consider those choices carefully, as they will affect our lives in the future.  But consider also, that each of us are in some situation where we wield power.  We do face small moral issues each and every day, as we wield our personal power in life. We have power as teachers, as parents, as spouses...perhaps as chairpeople in organizations...the small ways that have the capacity to affect many.  How do we use the power we do have? How do we NOT use it?

I thought of my own shortcomings.  I have been criticized for being too understanding, too forgiving, too quick to trust, when it comes to dealing with students.  SO many times I have heard, "You are too nice to them."  When I consider this, I realize there is one thing I will NOT do:  I will not give up on giving trust. I refuse to live by reacting ahead of time to the worst my students could do.  Instead, I chose my actions based on what I won't do...which is begin at the point of distrust.  This doesn't mean I am a pushover, but I feel it has always served me well.  Sure, I have been burned, but have you ever experienced the loss of someone's trust in you?  It is devastating.  And is a better lesson for my students - and one I hope they remember - than if I had never given that trust. When I withhold my trust, it is with good reason.

So what will I not do? I will not live my life from a point of distrust of humanity.  Call it naive, trust is one of my core values.

Other than that, I am not sure what I would NOT do.  It is an interesting way to look at my actions, my perceptions, my travel through life.  What have I chosen NOT to do and what does that say about what I value? I am going to spend some more time chewing on this.  I wonder - are there things you have chosen NOT to do that tell others the most about the core of who you are?

Nice to meet you! What do you do?

When we are meeting new folks around town, it is natural, I suppose, for them to ask you what you do for a living.  At least, I think that is what is intended by the question, "So what do you do?"  It becomes a bit more complex when I am among other faculty members, as I learned last night.  I believe others around me thought I was having a "blonde" moment, but I was purposefully being a bit obtuse.

When I was asked, "What do you do" I responded, "I teach with Greg at the School of Music." That identified my relationship to our host for the evening, and the school at the University I belong to.  Well, that wasn't what he meant, so he asked the same question again.  I responded, "I teach music education methods courses." To me, that was making perfect sense, also knowing he was getting at what musical activity I was most intimate with.  I continued with a brief explanation of what I taught.  At this point, he was beginning to become exasperated, and I was slightly tickled at the prospect of seeing how long I could string him out.  Finally he said, "NO, I said what do you do?"  and I felt it was simply time to cut the conversation loose.  So I responded, "I am an oboist." To which he responded (with some relief since I was being dense in his eyes), "oh, very nice!"

Now here is my observation.  Even outside the music circle, folks want to pin me down to a specific instrument.  Do we ask an English teacher about the specific books they are experts in? We don't ask architects what style houses they prefer to design do we? But when it comes to artists, it seems our very identity is somehow tied up in the instrument, voice, or medium we work in.  It strikes me a bit odd.  After all, I am far beyond being an oboist in my head.  I identify myself as a conductor, a researcher, a writer, a teacher, a musician - who happens to also be an oboist.  When I am pinned down in a conversation, it feels like it diminishes who I am a bit.  Why is being a music educator not enough?

I am not offended, and I realize that artistic people are somewhat of a curiosity to folks.  But among musicians, why must there be such clear boundaries? It doesn't allow me to share that I feel most musical when I help others find their own musicality.  If I say I am an oboist, it doesn't tell you that I love jazz and taught it well, that I adore teaching about teaching and that I feel called to write, think, research, and share everything I can to make education a better place.  It doesn't say anything about how I feel music education is moving through a paradigm shift, and I want to help in that transition.  It doesn't allow me to identify myself primarily as a music-teacher educator.  And that causes me to wonder why the identification of a specific instrument defines me more appropriately in other musicians' eyes.

It is just curious to me.  It has been a more difficult path for me to move from being a band director-music teacher to being a music teacher-educator/researcher.  There are still times when the old identity fights for recognition, and challenges the authenticity of my newer one.  But I realized today that I don't feel I can look back any longer and reach that person...I am transformed, and the world looks much different to me today than it did five years ago when I started this journey.  And I say that with great joy - I want to describe what I do in greater detail than "I am an oboist" because there is so much more than that to who I am as a musician and teacher!

So I will continue to pause and reflect on my own responses in these situations.  What is the first thing I say? How do I identify myself in different situations?  Who is it I present myself to be? Think about it.  How do you respond to "What do you do?" I look forward to hearing some responses from all of you!

Reflection on the First Semester or "What was it you wanted me to do?"

The semester is nearing an end already, and I have begun my bi-yearly reflections on how things actually transpired in my classes versus what I planned to have transpire.  Sometimes, I am able to see how the design allowed for rich learning transfers to take place, and others, well, not so much!  At any rate, I like to take some notes on the things I want to change, tweak, add or simply drop and never, ever try again!

One of the hardest things to judge is how much I bring to the table and how much my students bring and how to entice them to bring more.  I felt many times during the semester that I cared much more than they did, and worried about them much more than they did!  Part of that is my age, knowing what they need now to be most successful in the future.  And part of it is an overgrown sense of responsibility and perfectionism I carry with me about teaching...if only I taught them better, they would learn it...another myth I need to give up on.

I have a wide variety of age levels, but seems I may have more sophomores than any other level across the courses I teach.  Seems the last few years, I have had more of the upperclassmen than that and there is a difference between freshmen, sophomores, juniors, and seniors!  There is a difference between music education majors and education majors actually.  Not good or bad, just different. And that has had me trying to figure out if any of those differences have affected some of what I am seeing in my classes.

The truth is, I am disappointed that there isn't a sense of curiosity or wonder in so many of them.  That they don't want to take an assignment and run with enthusiasm toward an area that they enjoy, but rather do the minimum and then feign misunderstanding.  "But I thought this was right."  Or "I thought this was what you said you wanted."  And I always respond, "Is this your best work? Is this what you wanted to share with me that you have learned?"

I have office hours, I answer my emails immediately, I write out samples, post student samples, write out instructions, post instructions, explain instructions...but no matter what I do, they seem completely befuddled by more than one instruction.  Forget a complex assignment, even if we build up to it.  They don't want to have to sit down and think something through that takes more than an evening of work.  And forget following a calendar! Just have an assignment due and actually get it done on time? Nope, not going to happen.  They just hope you forget about it.  Now, this isn't true for all of them, but for many it is, sadly, the case.

I changed tactics in one class and told them that the minimum of what I wanted for our final project would be a C.  If they wanted an A, they had to work for it, digging in, and really showing me what they had learned in the course.  I wonder if it is because I run a project-based classroom, and that hasn't been the norm for them ever.  I don't give them tests with right or wrong answers - we are actively 'musicking' or asking questions with a plethora of possible responses that might ask them to think below the surface response.  Though I still get the surface responses, and then I keep asking more questions.  Anyway, that seemed to gain a bit more attention..."wait, so how do I figure out how to get an A?"  And to that I responded, "How might you be able to show me what you have learned in the class?"...and we went on from there.  I hope and pray that brings out more in them.  That remains to be seen.

So I need to change my tactics a bit.  Perhaps have more 'check-points' where they have to meet higher standards than they have of themselves.  I don't think many have standards for themselves at all.  They simply haven't thought about it that way - after all, they pay for the class, I am responsible to teach them what they need to know!  So maybe a few shocker activities at the beginning of the semester to make them realize they will be responsible for the acquisition of the knowledge we will be constructing together in the course. Perhaps more opportunities to transfer what they are learning in other classes to what we are learning together.

I have had some really wonderful moments in the semester...when my students finally seemed to really understand transposition and how to use it in score study and rehearsal...when we were studying masterworks and they discovered something in the score they hadn't noticed before...when the delight of making music made my elementary education students forget they were not (as they tell me often) 'musicians'...when they stop by to share that they really enjoyed a class discussion or topic that day...those keep me working hard.

Next semester brings a different set of courses, and different challenges.  I know I have learned much about working with the youngest of the college set, and will enjoy finding new ways to connect the material I want to share with them in more meaningful ways.  I just hope I haven't scarred the ones I experimented on this semester! Or maybe I should ask my evaluators..."What was it you wanted me to do??"

If Anyone Asks Me...

This week I received an email with a plan the government has for addressing the problems with education. I must admit, after the first few paragraphs, I was disgruntled. Not because I believe education doesn't need reform, but because I think that we are still missing the entire crux of the issue - nowhere in that document did the author(s) describe what an educated person of the 21st Century should look like, act like, or know. Why would we design a system to correct something when we don't know exactly what it is we want as an outcome?

You might say, well, we need accountability. Apparently, the government needs to blame A PROFESSION for this mess. So the suggestion is to test the teacher candidates...and if they pass the test, they get to teach. These teachers get jobs, but if those teachers fail to have their students in the K-12 classroom pass their 'tests' then we can hold the universities (who trained those teachers) accountable for the failure. Hmmm....with that logic, shouldn't congress be held responsible for the failings of the banks? Or the lack of jobs? I mean, who is the ONE person responsible for this mess? Seems to me, with that logic, one would be able to tag the ONE person responsible, punish them and be done with it right? All fixed. As sarcastic as I am being now, I am not saying that accountability isn't vastly important. I am just saying that perhaps we are continuing to look at education the wrong way. By looking backward instead of forward.

For instance, let's go back to a discussion of how to educate a child. What do we want for that child? What is needed for that child to become a successful member of society? As any of us of a certain age would agree, the world was vastly different during the century our grandparents lived in, and it has changed even faster for the next two generations. Change is not likely to slow in the near future. Rather than looking back to 'regain' what we think we have lost - which is a post for another day - perhaps we should begin to look forward to what we need to gain. What we might imagine the future to be. We don't need to relive the good old days - we need to create the good ol' days of the future! And we have to determine what that might look like before we decide how to assist our children in getting to a future we may never see.

I can tell you what isn't going to work. Creating a generation of Americans who can't imagine the next big thing. A generation devoid of creativity...a generation where having ONE right answer to bubble in is the only way they understand how to achieve. A generation who believes competition is more valuable than collaboration, and that winning is the only goal at any cost.

I believe our children need the kind of education that encourages them to continue to be curious about the world over a lifetime. The kind of education where each student is encouraged to be the kind of adult who uses his or her imagination to envision a better world, a better car, a better yard, a better family. The kind of education that encourages collaboration and construction of knowledge which acknowledges the multiplicity of viewpoints and celebrates diversity. The kind of education that is truly the social equalizer, where no matter how much money a parent makes, each and every child will have access to the same kinds of programs in art, music, theatre, dance, health and physical education. The kind of education where the graduates lead by example, with a highly developed sense of social justice and emotional intelligence. The kind of education which encourages the ethics of care for all life on the planet.

What do we want for our nation in the future? Again, I sure don't want a group of adults leading the country who trained in ways which were obsolete by the time they began their careers, because it was flush with tests that had bubbled-in multiple choice answers. I want adults who can solve problems creatively because they can think in many different ways, and can work well with others, finding solutions to the difficult issues that will continue to plague mankind. I want adults who care as much about the welfare of others as they do for their own, where making a buck involves lifting others up, not keeping it away from someone else.

Anyway, if anyone would ask me, that is where I would start.

The First Page...

This past week was orientation for my new job. It was roughly 8AM until 5PM each day, with so much information, my head is still pulsing! It is amazing how ready you can think you are and still have only scratched the surface of what you need to know! I have so many papers...so many notes...so much to still make decisions on...and yet, all I can think about is that first week of classes with my students.

On my walk to the campus each day, I tried to take it all in. The way it looks without students, the sounds of the bushes being clipped, the sticky breeze that is the south...I tried to attend to all my senses as I sorted through the emotions of the day. I wanted to stay in the moment, and pull everything I could from it. And I won't say I always felt the same way about the meetings, as I don't sit still very well, but I did try!

I really connected with this place in the process - I have found it to be very friendly, warm, and welcoming. A place where people go out of their way to make you feel a part of the group. Nobody will simply leave you alone, or allow you stand alone in a corner. Even the students seem to recognize instantly that I am new and ask for introductions! Some have already figured out who I am (I had forgotten my picture is already published) and have called me by name. There is so much pride in the school, such a strong identity, that I can't help but be pulled along. I also have the sense that I need to live up to those expectations, which continues to make the process of beginning the first page of a new job a little more unnerving!

I won't be Pollyanna and talk about the wonderful world of higher education. Let's be real and accept that this is a rough time to start out at this level (or any education level at all), with expectations high, pay low, and some political problems that make K-12 public school teaching look tempting again. The pressures are real, the problems are deep, and changes need to be made. And it may be my job to figure out how to be a part of the solution and not get caught up in the whirling waters of dissent and negativity. Yet, I get the feeling this is a 'scrappy' place when it comes to toughing it out. And I mean that as a compliment! At least, that is my sense at the beginning of things - the message is this: Yes, things are bad. Yes, they have gotten worse. But we have students to teach, and a new generation to help...and that is what we must do, by hook or by crook.

It makes me sad that education is still struggling, but I love that sense of digging into the problems that face us and not walking away. Not giving up or giving in. Standing tall against the voices of craziness that I hear all too often. I felt a sense of solidarity, of a group of people who may agree to disagree, but can actually find common ground to solve problems. Problems that are never simple to fix, but complex and difficult. Not in a manner that is perfect, nor pretty, but messy, ugly, and bumpy, where difficult moments lead to solutions and a better future.

So this is how I can be optimistic about such a difficult time - I am in a great place. I can be thrilled to be doing what I love to do - teaching music to others - and revel in the bone-weary exhaustion that sometimes comes in doing a job well. I almost need to pinch myself - I was teaching high school band in Indiana only 5 years ago - and here I am, living something that I often thought was just a dream! The butterflies in my stomach grow daily and I can't wait to actually meet all the students and start the good work and fight the good fight. The first page of the experience here has been written...and I can't wait to write the next!

A cat, a house, a dog...and I am not Superman!

Just wanted to share the story of my day. The things life teaches us when we least expect it!

Got up today to take Ike (our 2 year old cat) into the vet to get her wellness check so we could give her drugs for the trip to our new home. Or just whenever we want for fun, but mostly for the trip to be sure there is no mewing. Max (our 7 year old Border Collie Mix) would bark at her if she did that and there would be total mayhem in the car. Mark decided he would put Ike in the new carrier to see how she would do, about 45 min. ahead of the time we needed to leave. She was fine, staying in a few minutes and calmly walking out after the experiment. That carrier is much smaller and better suited to our 4 pound wonder cat Guyton, so we got the bigger carrier out instead. That was about the time Ike went postal on us. Seriously, if the cat had thumbs and a gun, it might have been all over. Finally, after chasing her round and round, she ran and hid under our bed. We could not even coax her out with bacon (oh, yeah, that is another story), and she ran into the guest bedroom under the bed. Well, we have now lost our travel time, so I call the vet and actually said, "I have no idea how many more places this damn cat will squeeze herself into before we can get there!" They said no problem, laughing a bit like this happens a lot, and told me we should just come whenever we can grab her and get there.

While I was on the phone, Mark had chased Ike into the living room, through the dining room and around through the kitchen. I dove at her in the family room, and she scrambled BACK into the guest bedroom. I am now cussing at this #$#@*# cat. I pulled the bed away from the wall enough to squeeze myself in and I felt cat claws and heard madcap hissing...about that time the phone rang. I disentangle myself from the bed and the claws to answer it. "Hello, this is the Real Estate Listing Service. We have a request for a showing for you today at 10 AM" and I said, "Wait...you mean in 45 min? Really?" I freaked out. Rather like the cat. My voice was about as high as Minnie Mouse or Cindy Bear...and Yogi was not calming me down. I said, "Oh, my god, no, I am packing the entire house, and chasing a cat to take it to the vet. There is no way I can do this today!! Can you ask them if there is another time?" She was great and said yes, she would let me know. I bet I said said much more than that in my pure panicked way....I hung up with the listing service and called our agent. She talked me off my perfectionist ledge, and Mark made me sit down to talk...and we decided we could have the house ready for showing by 2PM. Still no cat back in the carrier. We had no idea at this point where she had hidden.

SO I called the service back, they changed the period of NO SHOWINGS from 10 - 2PM, and we went back to chasing said cat. No luck. More hissing and clawing. I said, "TO HELL WITH HER, I am not giving her our new address! She can stay with the house." Called the vet, they laughed and said, "Can you come at 4:30?" Mark said, "YES!! She wants to be fed then...we will trick her and it will be perfect!" More laughter. NOT from me. It is now 10:30. We have been chasing that #^@$&#* CAT since 9AM. Now I have so much nervous energy, I start rearranging boxes (the kitchen and bathrooms were scrubbed down yesterday, so they are clean), get out the sweeper, WHICH I think just might just suck up the reluctant cat, but that didn't happen either. More wishful thinking on my part I suppose, as I am still mad at that silly cat. Mark took the Wal-Mart list to get the items needed and by noon, the house was ready for showing.

At 11:30, the listing service let me know the agent will bring the clients to see our house at 10AM tomorrow morning, relieving the pressure for the day. Of course I am still worried, because I have had the house perfectly staged for nobody for 6 weeks, with about 2 showings. I sure hope the folks coming to see the house are not teatotalers and enjoy the creative decorating with liquor boxes, because they do look quite lovely in the corners. They might enjoy some of the labels. Like the one that says, "Yes, this really IS a wine box" or the one that says, "No Whiskey here, only pots and pans. Keep looking!". I was entertaining myself by creating labels.

Ike came out at lunch time, on cue, and decided we were just fine again. Probably because we control the food. She just padded right out like nothing had just transpired. WOW. So later that afternoon, not to be outdone by her again, about 20 minutes before we needed to leave for the vet...again...she was sleeping beside me on the couch. I scooped her up and dumped her into the carrier. Not a peep during my route to the carrier and she didn't fight me. No claws, no sound, no problem. She mewed a bit after my dumping her in (about 5 min.) and then was quiet. Max, however, decided that I must not understand the cat was TRAPPED in a BOX, and began his "Momma, Timmy is in the well!" routine. First he 'talks' to me. Then he barks at me. Then he runs over to the carrier and barks. Back to me. More barking. Now grabbing at my hands and being insistent. Back to the carrier, with more barking. To which I kept saying, "Max the kitty is fine! Go lie down."

Poor Max was quite perplexed and not at all happy with the situation. I guess he decided if I was that stupid, he better work on Mark. And then he had to do all that over again. Damn that smart dog! If he were just a bit more intelligent he would figure out that a cat in the box is worth two in the bush...or something like that. Mark repeated what I kept saying, and he just looked so confused and not at all ready to give in...not Mark, the dog. Well, Mark too, but that was something else I was trying to tell him about the configuration of the new laundry room in Greenville...

So we got Max settled in with a dog cookie tucked into a toy to distract him, we left with a quiet kitty cat, and her check-up was perfect. Only she never mewed. So why the heck did I do all that? TO STOP THE MEWING IN THE CAR...which apparently, she no longer does. $53 later, we find out our cat likes to ride in the car, the dog WILL bark at the cat in the carrier, and liquor boxes CAN add to the drama of staging. Huh.

And that, as they say, is the rest of the story.

Except for bacon. I will save that for another day.

The Journey, part two

The past week I started thinking about the journey I set out on with my husband four years ago. I gave up a job I loved, in the place I felt most at home in the world to go back to school and earn a Ph. D. I always thought I would love doing university teaching, but I just couldn't imagine giving up being around children and teaching music in the band room. I have found the job that actually encourages me to do both and write on top of it all. I couldn't feel more fortunate!

The fact that the first journey is complete should have already set in. Sometimes it does - when someone calls me "Dr."....when I look at my diploma...when things are just quiet and there are no deadlines to be met! And the new journey has begun, as we pack up the house and deal with the logistics of relocation for the new college job. It is a strange transition that has me so moody I have begun to feel a bit bipolar!

I figure, if it is a bit painful to make a break from where you are - that is probably one of the greater blessings of having established important bonds with special people! I will always love this place, these people, these incredibly special moments of my life. It is where I found myself, where I have come closer to becoming who I was meant to be, and because of that, the individuals who encouraged me to grow and stretch will remain treasured mentors, colleagues, and friends. It isn't that this is a more important place than others in my life, but it may be the place where I was able to change the most since childhood. So leaving is both wonderful and painful and a bit scary. I know I lived my life to the fullest here and I don't regret any minute of it! I never wanted to be anywhere else in these four years, and I can almost count the number of times I was sad...so it was a very happy time.

Looking forward, I know there are more changes ahead and yet, I have little sense of what they might feel like. Intellectually I know I am ready. My heart hasn't caught up with my head quite yet. I am totally thrilled to have the opportunity I have! I have a job that actually pays me to do exactly what I wanted to do, in the place I wanted to do it in, close to our children, on the east coast, and to put the icing on the cake, with a wonderful group of people I feel a bond with already! I know in this economy, that has not happened for many of my colleagues who graduated this spring. I worked hard to get in the position, but I also realize that the stars had to align for this to happen. To say I am thankful is an understatement.

The last week I spent conducting a junior band at THE MOST WONDERFUL summer music camp with the most amazing group of people. One of the other conductors called it "Disneyland for band nerds" and that is the perfect description! I was inspired by other directors, impressed with the number of directors working as rehearsal assistants, thrilled by the musicianship class material that aligned with my goals for the week, and humbled by the sheer musical talent flowing around me. And the best part? I was home. Heart, body, and soul - at home. What a beautiful way to end the time I have spent in Greensboro!

I can hardly wait to finish the move and settle into the new job and new community! No matter what bumps we have along the way, we are happy and together and doing what we want to dow with our lives. How great is that? But right now, I should get back to my to do list for moving!

Rest in Peace

This week, a former student wrote to share that a former classmate had taken his own life. She only knew that this young man had been in band with me, and wanted to be sure I knew. Her reaching out was so very thoughtful and caring, and I was touched that she would know that I would care to know this. She didn't know the rest of the story.

Jason had been my son's best friend from nursery school until about middle school, where their interests went different directions. Though they remained friends, they were not as close as they had been as little guys, giggling together over something silly, digging in the woods for 'lost treasure' as they told me...eating pancakes at the breakfast table after an overnight stay. They played trombone together in the band, and weathered many storms of pre-adolescence. Jason was very sweet, cooperative and easy-going. The two together seemed to laugh a lot, and both seemed to drag their feet when it came to growing up too fast. Jason's family taught Ty how to ride three-wheelers, and their family activities were quite physical and outdoors...very different from our family, and I thought good for my son as well. I enjoyed short chats with his parents and older brother, waiting for the boys to clean up their messes before taking one or another home. How did that time seem to last forever, but now represents only a heartbeat so long ago?

Both boys graduated from high school and went their separate ways, to different universities, and different lives. Jason became a Sergeant in the National Guard after graduation, and got home in December from a tour in Afghanistan. I am not sure what the story is after all that, but I would guess, from the limited knowledge I have, that he may have suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder. The Jason I knew was bright, sensitive, loving, caring, and very loyal. I believe he was that kind of young man as well, and was probably a very strong leader serving his country. To end his own life - we can only begin to imagine the pain he was in and why he felt this was the only way out. I think of him several times a day - lamenting the loss of an incredible young man, knowing a light went out in the world, and worrying about his family. I have no words for his family that can ease a loss of this magnitude. I can't even begin to explain the pain I feel myself, which pales in comparison to theirs.

And there is the pain my children feel as well - much deeper, much fresher, more acute. My son may feel he lost a big part of his childhood and though the two men hadn't communicated much over the past eight years, I know he wants to reach out to the family that provided a second home for him for so many years. My daughter reached out to her brother, to be sure he was supported as well. We are all too far away to be with the family, and the distance feels obscene right now. Almost as if through the act of moving, we have forsaken the ties that were so important for so long. There is some guilt lying underneath all of that I suppose. Perhaps the feeling that I have disengaged my children from their community roots without their permission.

I have no words of wisdom. The cold, hard truth of life sometimes just is what it is. Everything about this is horrible. And for my children, this is only the beginning of learning to deal with loss. And there is no softening of these blows. Wrapping my arms around them can no longer protect them. It merely lets them know I am still here.

So, I dug up the old home movies of the boys to copy for my son, the memories that were made over a very short lifetime. We wrote notes to his family, and sent money off to Wounded Warriors. I suppose that is the best we can do right now. Except perhaps - Rest in peace, Jason. You will be missed greatly by many.

The Fine Art of Becoming...

We are all becoming...each moment of each day, we are becoming someone older, someone wiser, perhaps more cynical, or even more loving. I always hope each day brings me a bit closer to who I am meant to be. And in a practical sense, sometimes that means figuring out who I am becoming as a university professor!

Ever since I finished the dissertation, or the beast as I have referred to it, I have felt a mild sense of foreboding, a tightness in my chest that offered up the doubt I am sure anyone who has written a dissertation has: Could it be I only have this one document to write? Is that it? As is my usual fashion when I become overly-anxious, I seek counsel from those who have stood where I am standing now. So I did just that - asked anyone and everyone I have found to talk to the question "How do you find time to write and publish?" In my unofficial research, I found that nobody seems to organize their writing in the same way and nobody feels they have the tiger by the tail so to speak!

I gathered lots of sage advice. Write every day. Get up early and do it first thing. Write before you go to bed. Schedule a time every day to write. Writing is hard. You will get rejected a lot - so write a lot. Expect to struggle. Use your students. Do collaborative projects. Have different research projects at different stages at all times. Have at least three projects going all the time: one that has been submitted, but may need revisions, one that is in process, and one that is being developed. Some people write in their vacation times, others only one or two days a week. Most suggested the every day approach, however, but admitted that they didn't follow their own advice. The best gift I got for graduation (beside my family gifts of course) was a small book by Paul Silva called, How to write a lot: A practical guide to productive academic writing, a gift from one of my professors. It was a quick read and well-worth it. The tips were not anything lofty or unimaginable, but rather a stab at all the excuses university people make for NOT spending time doing something that can eventually lead them toward publication success (rather than perish, of course).

That book inspired personal goals for the summer - the overarching goal is to discover how productive I am and what I can produce in a given time period. I am keeping track of what I write, how much I write, and some extended notes so that in the future I can plan out my projects and estimate the time it may take me to do so. I am learning when I write best, when I do not and what I need to be happy doing it. I am lucky that two of my projects are collaborative. One I am leading and one I am following...so I have the opportunity to experiment in a safe environment. So far, I have been pleasantly surprised. Keeping detailed notes helps me organize each week's sessions and my list of to-do on each project is progressing nicely. I have managed, in two weeks time, to write well over 2,000 words, arrange a meeting to discuss a collaborative project, plan an article and presentation for November, finish an article I had in a file and send it to a peer for review, outline a paper for another collaborative project, detailed with references, begin a book review for MEJ and write up a synopsis for an idea for the graduate course I will teach in the spring.

When I look at the time I put in - only about 14 hours a week - it is amazing to me that I am moving forward in many areas at once. I am learning what takes more time (reading, preparing to write, editing) and what takes the least time (outlining and actual writing) for me personally. I have a nice journal started that will assist me when the fall gets fast and furious too. Mind you, rather than taking a part-time paying job this summer, I have devoted that time to writing. When I think of it in those terms - loss of salary - I push myself a little bit harder. I have to make my time worth something after all!

Maybe I am feeling full of myself right now...and I know from life experiences that there are going to be some dark days of rejection ahead of me, but I want to revel in the new experiences I am having of becoming...and I am excited to see where my next words will take me!

Tentative First Steps

I attended my first conference solo this week (ok, so it was a colloquium, which IS different, but let's toss that aside for the time being). I was slightly apprehensive with a sense of anxiety I expressed physically through a tight and heavy feeling in my throat. It is a vague anxiety, like a shadow of an emotion you just can't quite express or shake off. I confronted this by talking through it a few days earlier with friends, and admitting that stepping out on my own was difficult, actually made these feelings seem less nebulous and easier to contain. It occurred to me that I needed to admit I like routines, organization, structure, and social situations which are comfortable. Yet I have to force myself out of security and encounter situations that will help me to continue to grow.

As I traveled to Ohio, I thought about the journey of the last four years and the number of times I had to step away from what I was comfortable with and confront some of my own perceptions and perspectives. I realized that even though there was some anxiety involved with being alone at a conference to talk about teaching music education in higher education, it was much more subdued than it was two years ago when I went to Virginia for a similar colloquium. I have changed quite a bit in the last four years! Perhaps this is a metamorphosis, though never complete, I will look back on later and understand much more clearly.

I realized before our first meeting that I knew few people, and those I did know, I knew only through their work or brief introductions at other conferences. It was up to me to introduce myself again and insert myself into the established social groups. It was wonderful to be asked to join a dinner party right away, and find the conversation easy and accepting from the beginning. As I have found in the circle of higher ed music teacher educators, this is not atypical behavior. I would venture to say there appears to be less posturing than I felt in the public school teaching settings, and less of a clique. I find my colleagues to be warm, receptive, and willing to listen more than they talk. For the most part anyway! So there were only a few moments that I actually felt socially-inept or awkward through the four days I spent there.

Here is the really interesting part for me. As I am eternally interested in the way we construct our identities in these settings, I started to discuss the difficulties one has becoming part of the larger profession from a personal standpoint. This particular colloquium has established a community of learners, and has broken down barriers to participation in the group. However, every profession has established traditions of acceptance into the profession that are both articulated and unarticulated. The nice thing was that I felt accepted enough to call on the ways in which I feel, coming in the fringes of the profession since I first entered teaching as a neophyte over 3o years ago! And in that moment, there was a connection from many in my discussion circle and beyond, showering me with viewpoints that were both profound and personal. This was quite assuring to me but also got me thinking about how we share our own induction experiences with those on their own journeys in.

Understand that this transition is not one where I feel unaccepted or unappreciated. I do not feel that I can not or will not fit into the profession. I understand from life experiences that it takes time to walk the walk and learn the ropes so that I may feel I am a part of my new peer group. Yet it was this experience that made me begin to reflect on what my preservice teachers experience as they are inducted into the profession. As I take this journey into higher education full-time, I need to be aware of the ways in which I negotiate the path of a new job, where my skills may or may not serve me well, and how I adapt to these demands, and how this can inform how I share lessons from these experiences with my students. Or ways through which I can help them develop the resilience to learn for themselves.

And today on the way home, I thought about my fears. Are they really that different than the fears of the students I teach? Fears of 'will my peers accept me?', 'Do I know enough?', Is what I know enough?', or 'Will someone figure out I don't always know what I am doing?' Perhaps I travel through those thoughts at lightening speed compared to my students, but they are there under the surface. It has given me food for thought, and an impetus to continue to document the journey. And today, I am very thankful that the professionals I met this weekend not only opened the door, but invited me in.

A Follow up: Shiny Shoes

I have to share my shoe story from graduation. And it is a short but funny one!! My friend Michael gave me the shoes as a graduation present, right after I published my blog, which was so thoughtful and wonderful and over the top! I found a pair of dark gold silk wedges, embellished with sparkling clear and gold 'gems' on the top of the foot. Sandals of course, and the gold I thought went ever well with my bright pink dress AND the gown which would envelope me in yards of black, blue, and gold fabric. Just enough bling to make up for the fact that I was completely lost in all that garb!

I wore my shoes like a badge of honor! They were beautiful, and comfortable, and made me feel special walking across the stage. I wore them all day, and thought little about them as I arrived to attend the second ceremony. What I didn't realize was that we would be on stage at Aycock Auditorium, and that I would be sitting on the end of the very front row. Who knew I would be the first to walk in? I was glad I had really nice shoes on.

After the ceremony, my family came up to me chuckling. My husband told me he didn't realize that I was such a fidgety person! When I asked why, he informed me that my feet, emblazoned with light throwing fake gems, were sending morse code messages to the audience...THE ENTIRE TIME! At first, I was a bit mortified. How could I have not had quiet feet? And then I decided it was perfect shoe entertainment! I must have annoyed and entertained an entire audience!

Good thing I bought pretty shoes.

Emerson and Tiny Matters

"What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us." Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Every so often I have a small fit of anxiety. I don't recognize it until I am fully into the moment! It is triggered by something very small and insignificant...like disorganized boxes, unfinished jobs on the to-do list, or a computer issue. Whatever the trigger is - it isn't the problem really...the problem is always something else. I should know. I find and correct problems for a living!

You see, as a musician, we become adept at finding the problems, from the most major mistakes to the very tiniest of issues, in order to make an attempt at expressing that which is impossible to describe with words. We pick things apart, we put them back together, we slow it down, we change it out, and we experiment in expression. But in seeking out the minutia, I wonder if I fail to celebrate the technical or musical issues we have conquered - do I forget to actually revel in any success? I seem to live in this strange world of dissatisfaction, always seeking the next performance, that level of perfection that eludes me. That might be an accurate description of many of us, musician or not.

Today's anxiety is drawn from the well of another life change. A new job, a new town, a new home also means leaving my current job, current town, current home, and most importantly my friends. It probably also comes with the territory of completing the massive document of a dissertation. The euphoria has worn off and the shiny, bright words I placed so carefully on the page have now settled into a comfortable hum in the back of my brain. And I realize that I have a sense of impatient dissatisfaction with not having anything ready to submit to a journal, or a research study set and ready to go. And by ready, I mean by tomorrow. I feel rather adrift and unfocused, excited about the future, but apprehensive as well. And I wonder if this is the result of the process I have just completed, or the years of musical training, begging me to dissect what I have just done and examine the pieces to be sure to approach the next performance with more something, even as I have no idea what that is.

I know that I am not alone when I suffer apprehension about new situations...will they like me? Will they accept me? And when I consider a new teaching situation I worry...will I be effective? Will I be able to reach my students and help them achieve their dreams? And when I place words on a page in the future, I am now on my own, without my "support team" in the next hallway...what if what I write isn't acceptable to the profession? What if I don't really have all that much to say? (My siblings are now laughing hysterically, but perhaps those who didn't endure my incessant adolescent chatter will relate.)

Perhaps Emerson is right. What lies within us is not the minutia to tear apart, but is the work of writing a symphony. The daily work of confronting our doubts, insecurities, or fears, helps build that courage muscle to place those technical passages of life into rhythmic order, and allow our the melody of our lives to sing more beautifully from within. All this practicing with critiquing what is behind us and thinking about what is before us actually provides the practice room for creating what is within us. And maybe, just maybe, I am built more like Beethoven, writing a symphony in a painstaking manner, rather than a Mozart, whose symphonies seemed to flow from another realm. I rather like thinking of myself as a late bloomer, one who has had the opportunity to write a few lovely little ditties for herself before finding her own symphony to write. And even if I am the only one who recognizes the harmonies, a little dissonance only makes for a wonderful resolution!

Rather than fighting these feelings, I am going to try to embrace them. What a gift the last four years have been! It is simply time to put that to use, and celebrate the changes within that have inspired me to continue on my path. I can take the time to center myself, figure out what I am truly feeling. Quiet the critical voice and listen more closely to the symphony I am creating inside.

Letting go of perfection

Boy, isn't that a hard thing to do? Let go of perfection. Admit we are flawed to the core, to ourselves, to others, and to accept the flaws in those we love and those we don't particularly care for. Maybe that is the problem with society right now. Not only are we afraid to admit we aren't perfect, we are afraid to admit that we are wrong.

[Except me of course. I haven't been wrong since 1982, and that was only once. KIDDING!!]

I was thinking today about teachers and politicians. Those in the public eye, whose words and deeds are honored and reviled in the same breath. And I wonder - is it possible to live comfortably in knowing no matter what you do, you will be imperfect? That someone, somewhere will hate you for what you believe, say, do and insist that you are wrong even when your intentions are pure?

I am reminded of my first year teaching. A little boy in 7th grade wanted to play in the concert but told me his dad would not let him attend. Of course, I called the dad. It never occurred to me that a father would not want his child to participate. That phone call was a disaster, and the man told me he didn't believe in music that didn't have words. Now, that can make your head spin right there! What do you mean, you don't believe in music without words? Like you don't believe in the tooth fairy? Like it doesn't exist or you don't want it to exist? Anyway, since I hadn't encountered that before, I was stumped. I had no answer to that. On top of that, his dad said the concert interrupted the chores. That wasn't acceptable in his family.

So I went to my principal. The child would fail if he didn't attend the concert, and the mother had signed the grading policy at the beginning of the year. The principal said he knew the old "S.O.B." (his words seriously) and he called him. They got into a cussing match and the man said he had tried to call the governor and when he got through, the governor would have my job! Needless to say, that didn't actually happen. He probably never got to the governor and the governor never rescinded my contract. But it didn't feel great at 22 to be questioned. However, it taught me something about working with many different kinds of people. I didn't punish that child for his absence. It wasn't his choice, and it broke my heart and his that he couldn't be there. I hope he learned to believe in music without words through my kindness.

All that to say, I thought I would be the perfect teacher. I could make everyone believe, think as I think, see the world the way I see it. You know, perfection! Unfortunately, that caused a lot of pain for me. The way I see the world is imperfect, just as I am. My interactions are flawed, even as I attempt to always do the right thing. And in trying to do the right thing, what the right thing actually is comes into question...and so it goes. And today, even more so than that crisp, fall day in 1979, much of what is said and done is pointing fingers, and blowing things out of proportion, rather than fact-gathering and figuring out a solution. Which brings me to politicians.

Seems to me politicians are somewhat trapped, not unlike teachers. The system doesn't allow for independence of thought, of expression of ideas, of trusting someone's competence. Teachers suffer from that greatly. Our professional opinion matters little - society questions our competence to have a professional opinion, much as we blast one party or another, as if all of "those" people think alike. If we just get rid of the "bad" politicians...just get rid of "bad" teachers, the system will work. But what if the problem isn't who is "bad" or wrong or right? What if the problem is a failure to let go of what we think is our own perfection in thought?

Was I wrong to think the child should attend the concert? Was I wrong not to punish him by the rules when his father wouldn't let him come? Was the father wrong to think school was for the daylight hours until it was time to get chores done at home? Or is this a matter of needing to understand a perspective? I wish I remembered the child's name and how he is today. I would love to ask him what he remembers of all of that.

By holding ourselves and others to impossible standards we miss out on perhaps what is the most compelling parts of life. And we miss out on seeing the world in new ways. But always, think through what we say and share thoughtfully, with as much care as we can muster. And even if we don't agree, even when we can't agree, even when we agree to disagree. And love the flaws that make us unique.

Letting go of perfection and always having to be right feels really good.

Two stories for the price of one

I love shoes. Flat ones, sandals, or heels, it does NOT matter to me. I had to wear corrective shoes as a child and my parents were understanding enough to allow me to select the pair I liked the most. Because of course, it was the ONLY pair of shoes I would have all year for school and church. I don't remember having any other shoes until I was a teenager but that one new pair each fall. My obsession with pretty shoes is rooted in that experience I think!

Anyway, I find shoes as an appropriate celebration for achievement. Sometimes ahead of the achievement. I have worried about my 'graduation' shoes for 6 weeks...and I do mean worry. Comfort is now an issue for me, now that campus can mean walking 6 blocks in one direction a couple times a day. Four inch spike heels may look great, but can cause great (how about intense) pain as well! Graduation shoes are the only accessory that will show. The robes (pricey suckers) and hood are wonderful, but the shoes will carry me gracefully (or not) across a couple of stages...this is serious business.

And my thought throughout graduate school was that I didn't need a grade at the end of each class. I mean, I am a little old for that noise. I should have received SHOES for those things. Some classes would have netted sneakers. Simple, straightforward, work horses of the shoe wardrobe. Others would be all glamour and glitz, so I could say, 'These beautiful specimens? Yep, this was from my work in statistics.' And THAT, my friends, would say volumes. Much more impressive than an A.

So I tried on shoes a few days ago, but just couldn't make up my mind. Money is tight, and I don't want to be frivolous, even if I want to celebrate graduation. I am torn between my desire to have a great pair of shoes to wear for graduation, and my need to save pennies. It is a rough decision, believe me. I mean, I have shoes I could wear. I really do. But not a pair that say, Look-how-hard-she-worked-and-what-she-achieved kind of shoes. Not Lady Gaga shoes, just great shoes that can also say I-can-go-the-long-haul-and-still-look-great. Kind of like I want to live!

Yesterday afternoon, I had hung up my graduation robes, zipping them up in the bag, and settled in to work on submitting my dissertation and finishing a class project. About forty-five minutes after submitting my dissertation online to the graduate school, I got 'the call' I have been waiting for...the job I have truly thought was the one for me. I had to sit down, as the blood somehow left my body temporarily! And as my friend Sandra pointed out, had I known the act of submitting the dissertation would have brought on a job offer, I would have done that a little bit earlier!

As it is, I know that no job is perfect, no place is perfect, and no group of people are perfect. Yet in all this imperfection, there is a sense of fit. I have learned to trust my inner compass and work to read the community. I had questions prepared and these gave me the information about the people I would work with. But overall, it was just a sense that I fit in there, that I could grow to be a part of this learning community, that I could be a part of something bigger.

I also think sometimes we overlook the importance of the people in the place we want to work. Obviously, it is never perfect, but colleagues can make or break any job. The assignment is completely up my alley and a great fit for me now. It also offers room for me to grow as a teacher and a researcher and that was important to me. And the people? I feel I can trust them and work happily beside them. I feel so lucky to have found this.

Each adventure in my life has brought challenges, elation, and despair, but I find the older I get, the less the hard times bother me. I worry, of course, as it is probably a learned behavior on my part! Hard times and challenges can make the good times even sweeter however. Maybe it is knowing that nothing lasts forever...and you have to be ready for change. If anything is constant, it is change.

Finding a new job, that allows me to use my new skills, in a beautiful place on the east coast, close to our children, and where my husband is happy, is priceless. I know there are hard times ahead, selling our beautiful Greensboro home, moving away from our friends here, leaving the 'nest' so to speak, and finding our way in a new community. But there are wonderful, happy, fun times ahead, in making a new place for ourselves, blooming where we are planted. And it comes with a salary, which is something I have missed the last four years frankly!

So I digress a bit and have told two stories in one...and with that, I plan to go find a pair of special shoes to celebrate!

Passing on wisdom...

Part of my journey back to school to get the Ph. D. was my desire to share the lessons I have learned through my own teaching with the next generation of music teachers. I hoped I could share these lessons in ways that would make their lives easier, make them smarter faster, in order to move the profession forward in new and exciting ways. Much like I hoped to share how I have arrived at this place in my life, battle-scarred and tired, but ultimately very happy, with my own children. Neither of these ideas have panned out the way I hoped that they would. This realization speaks to my transformation as well.

First of all, we are each the sum of our experiences. These complex interactions shape us, just as we shape the interactions we have, as we are having them. And as we think on past experiences, our thoughts shape who we are becoming and how we react to the next set of interactions. So though I can tell wonderful stories about my experiences, I can't prevent anyone from stepping smack dab into the middle of an unwelcome experience. I can be empathetic, just as I can make you feel you are not alone in this crazy profession. I can suggest tools and habits of mind to find your own way out...but I can't prevent them from happening.

Secondly, as much as we love our adult children, they don't believe us. They never seem to think our stories have a bearing on their lives. And to be fair, I am not sure as parents, we see them as they are! I often wonder if I have frozen them in some time warp of post-teenage-hood that doesn't allow me to really see who they have become as adults. I suppose it is the same with children being able to understand their parents as people. I want to soothe the pains of young adulthood, protect them from anything that would not allow them to be happy. Unfortunately, I can't prevent those experiences either, as much as I want to. I can only THINK about the tools and habits of mind I wish I had taught them when they were young and malleable. I don't dare offer bits of hard-won wisdom without an invitation to do so!

I thought being able to look back over all these years would allow me to give clarity to others. I realize now, this is not the point at all. The truth, my truth, is that I have found the clarity I need to move forward in my own life. I continue to weave the fabric of my life, just as my students and my children are weaving theirs. We each chose the threads we use, the colors we like, the designs we desire. Even as we swear we are unlucky or that something is happening to us, we are in the process of reacting, projecting, interpreting, the designs we weave into our lives. It is what living is all about.

I really wish I could wave a magic wand over those I love, those I care about, those I teach, and protect them from future regret, or allow them to feel the warmth of what is the promise of their futures. I can only stand on the sidelines and coach, sometimes quietly, sometimes noisily, with as much grace as I can muster, to be present through all the excitement, the joy, and the tears. And in the meantime, continue to work on any wisdom I can find, from those who have walked before me, allowing them to cheer me on from the sidelines.

Blips on the Screen

It occurred to me this week, that often people pass in and out of our lives like blips on a radar screen. Some are significant, stay for a while, and others move through much more quickly, as if they almost didn't happen. Regardless, even if they are here and then gone, they leave something in their wake that perhaps we should try to be more aware of.

I suppose this is one advantage of age. Once you reach a certain level of maturity, you can look back over events, and see connections you have never noticed before. One of those connections for me has been the thought of how vast the world is and yet how powerfully connected we are as social beings. Let me give a couple examples.

As a little girl, I went with my class to see the Terre Haute Symphony. I had seen them many times, and I don't recall the concert. What I did find was the eight-year old me describing what I had experienced as a writing assignment. In it, I said, "I want to grow up and conduct just like Mr. Barnes." We all know that as children we encounter many things we want to do - for me, being a veterinarian and librarian and teacher were on the list - but I actually did become a conductor. And Dr. James Barnes was one of my teachers in undergraduate and graduate school - a man I genuinely liked very much and learned much from. A blip on the screen, returning with a powerful effect. I think of him when I step on the podium now and again.

Then there was the moment years later I happened to encounter Dr. Mallory Thompson at a clinic. She was taking over for John Paynter at Northwestern University. I was enthralled with the way in which she moved on the podium, how she was able to pull so much from us as we played for her, and how her manner made me want to find the best musician within myself as well. I often said how I would love to study with her. I did in fact, almost twelve years later, when I was able to spend a summer at Northwestern. A blip that somehow found its way back into my life with lessons I will always cherish.

Sadly, two blips on my radar passed on from this life this week. One, a wonderful band booster, whose children were joys in my classroom, and another, a local merchant whose musical gifts were such a pleasure to watch. Both were wonderful men, gone much too soon from our lives, and I never thought of the moments that we exchanged that may have been our last. One conversation I remember, another I don't. What I do know is that the exchanges we had enriched my life and I know they will be sorely missed.

I hope we can all remember that we are all blips on a screen for someone...that a kindness today might make all the difference in someone's life, just as a snide remark might injure an already tender psyche.  And each morning, try to remember to be the cause of the first, not the latter!
(written Feb. 13, 2011)

The job hunt

Finding a job. Finding a job in academia. Finding a job in academia in this economic climate. All powerful statements, each with their own dilemma. I thought I could take just any job. I figured out this week I was wrong.

The first - just finding a job - feels akin to finding one's mate. I am not a youthful figure for whom any job will be an acceptable fit to get my foot in a door. My working life span has an expiration date, so to speak, and it is much closer than most of those in my graduate student peer group! Fitting into a job that I can grow and stay in is vital to me. I don't have the benefit of time left in my working life to bother with just any job or one that will move me up a proverbial ladder. Nor do I feel I want to be climbing some ladder somewhere! So there are two issues rattling around in my brain when considering marrying my next job. First, what is it I truly want from my working life the next twenty years? Second, what concessions am I willing to make to be happy doing what I truly want from my working life in the next twenty years? Not easy questions to figure out an answer to, even if you aren't new to a profession.

The next - finding a job in academia. A strange land, this place of academia. It is so much different than other kinds of educational interviews I have been a part of in the past. I wonder how ANY professor ever got a job after having sustained only four months of searching for a tenure position! Certainly, there is also a smaller cast of characters in contrast to the past jobs I have sought. Rather than playing the Kevin Bacon game, I can insert just about any professor's name into the game and play it with any other academic and find the next relationship right in front of me. I thought that was an incredibly helpful thing. Turns out it also carries tremendous responsibility and weight with it. It is not something I use as a machete in an interview to cut through the maze of questions being tossed in front of me, but a gift of sorts that I must protect and use with caution. I daydream, likening myself to a kind of King Arthur, pulling Excalibur out of the stone...much better that way! I would probably cut myself in the process of using a machete.

The last - the economic times in which I search for the academic job. Alas, if finding my perfect partner in academia isn't difficult enough, in a place where I can live up to the names I carry with me out into a different glass tower world, in a world filled with card-carrying stone throwers, now I have to be sure that my partner is not a pauper hiding in royal clothing! North Carolina state universities will take a 12% pay cut across the board for the next budget year. Looks like if the republicans have their way, the cuts we will see will be deeper and much more painful than any of us have anticipated. What will that mean to me, the 'new' kid on the block? What will that mean to the plan to pick up the retirement savings that I put on hold four years ago? What will this mean for my future as an educator at all?

And so I search. And apply. And wait. And plan. And dream about being in my own classroom. And wonder for the very first time if this risk I took will play out sooner rather than later. And wait some more. Patience should become my best friend, and yet impatience ripples through me almost daily looking for answers that I still do not have. Not to mention the other stresses that accompany any change of this magnitude!

And for the first time, I consider that I may need to rent those robes that I have dreamed about almost as long as I did my wedding dress.

Finding Serendipity

In the midst of all the craziness of the beginning of a semester, I have added job interviews to the mix. It feels a bit surreal to be at this point, but that is another entry for another day. This is merely a rather funny, perhaps heart-warming story about finding yourself in unexpected places at unexpected times...

So I was scheduled to do an interview on campus during the worst snow storm the southeast has seen this winter. The university is not culpable in this tale, and shall remain nameless. However, I was in constant communication, just trying to be sure that the money they put into that ticket for me was well spent. Whether that meant that I show up or not show up, I wanted to play out in what was best for them. So here is the story as it began.

First, the airline cancelled my ticket for the early flight and rebooked me the same day, late in the afternoon, through Detroit, not Atlanta. I breathed a sigh of relief...until I realized it was also snowing like the devil in Detroit. All day, we faithfully checked to make sure the flights were still a go. Everything looked great!

Mark dropped me off at the airport, I checked in, and just as I settled into my seat, the flight was announced as delayed...30 min. But anyone with a connecting flight AFTER 7:30 was fine. I went to the desk and said, "But my 20 min. check in time IS 7:30" and she said, "I SAID you were fine, you are fine. Your flight doesn't leave until 7:50. You will make it." I didn't say I didn't believe her, but I didn't believe her. THEN she announces, don't go if you are going to miss your flight because there are no rooms available around the Detroit airport. I called my contacts and we decided it would be ok to move ahead.

Got on the plane and thought it was all good...and then the plane sat on the runway for 20 minutes because we needed to be de-iced. Well, that is a great reason right? So now, I am thinking I will arrive at 7:30...close, but Delta 'validated' the connection, right? Oh, it gets better!! We arrive to land in Detroit about 7:20, but there isn't a place to land and we stay floating around the airport in a holding pattern until 7:35...stay on the tarmac waiting for our terminal to be ready for us for another 5 min...then the lift containing the luggage was caught on snow (are you starting to catch my drift here?) and I was able to grab my bag at 7:43...RAN down the hallway after having the Delta person call the gate...and arrived at my gate at 7:49...no plane. It was gone. Left ON TIME. Imagine that!

All the bedraggled passengers from my flight were sent to the OTHER end of the world to check on rebooking. I make the call to figure out what the university would like me to do. At this point, I figure I need to go back home and try again another day! I am starting to imagine I look like Calamity Jane to my potential employers. Standing in line for 90 minutes, I start to panic slightly. No hotel rooms. The guy on my plane wants me to help him rent a car and drive to the destination. Well, he is carrying a guitar case. Not going anywhere with a stranger-guitarist in businessmen clothing. I know ALL about musicians...;)!

I get my ticket changed, no problem, and the Delta agent is completely understanding, right? No, understanding LIKE A ROBOT! Amazing...they have rhino hides for emotional skin, I swear. As far as they were concerned, not their problem. Need a room? Go to Ann Arbor or Livonia. How do I get there? No idea, you are on your own. Or...well, never mind where I thought he should go get a room.

Somewhere in the chaos, I called my mom & dad. Probably half my extended family lives in the area surrounding Detroit, so I was hoping I could find a bed for a night with family. I would never ask for that favor had there had been a hotel room available - the roads were terrible, schools were closing for the next day, and I was unexpected. Yet, when Mom put the family APB out, my lovely cousin Shaney set into motion a plan for my brief stay and sent me a text message letting me know I simply needed to call.

I can't explain my relief. I love being independent and work well on my own. But in situations where I find myself alone, suddenly like this in a strange place, I am frightened. I quickly realize that my husband is the foundation of my daily strength. When he isn't present, I feel lost emotionally, and in this case physically! So that one text message calmed my fear. I made the call, thanking her, and then called my cousin Robert who provided taxi service to my Aunt Maria's house and back to the airport in the morning. There I found a warm bed, sustenance, and the comforting space of people who will take you in simply because you are family.

This was the serendipitous moment. Now I had my moment of anger and frustration and I snapped a bit at Delta for not even offering a drink coupon for my trouble. But when all is said and done, I live my life at breakneck speed, moved far from my roots, perhaps both emotionally and physically, and may forget to acknowledge the safety net or connection to my entire family at times. To stop for just a moment and appreciate my family roots, to revel in having a safe haven no matter where I am, to walk into someone's home and feel completely at home - how could that not be serendipitous at this time in my life?

I remember my Grandpa Rowe taking long walks with all of us - cousins, aunts, uncles, second cousins - and for some reason when I went to bed I was reminded of these walks, this gathering of relatives. That feeling that we were all special, safe, connected and loved. Mom and Dad - always there, a constant, loving and steady force in my life. But this refers to my expanse of family - the way Shaney sprang into action to make me feel safe, the way Robert greeted me at the airport, moving so much like his dad (Doug, gone too soon) with the same warm smile, the way Maria welcomed me with open arms and a hot cup of coffee. What a wonderful way to fall asleep! What a beautiful legacy this family has and how much I suddenly appreciate the gift that it is. This was not a horrible situation fraught with lost time, but a moment to be savored with what had been found.

I resolve to do a better job of letting this huge family know I love them. That I will spend a bit more time appreciating found pockets of time that allow me to do so. And that serendipity is found in the strangest places...even in Detroit in the middle of a snowstorm.