Longing for a dog

I have been in a tug of war with my husband over bringing a new furry family member home.  I have lost out on about four dogs now, each with their own sweet photos pulling at my heartstrings. After applying for their adoption - only one could have been ours.  But my husband vehemently refused to budge.  Last week I went to the pet store and played with puppies and came home alone, even as their frenetic puppy kisses dried on my face. 

I am super busy right now. And I love it - so this is not a complaint!  College teaching is feast or famine. Either you have series of gigs and conference presentations or the well is dry and the calendar barren. In order to ride the middle line, often we line up possible presentations and send in the abstracts, hoping for the best and hedging your bets by sending in more than one.  When everything you send in gets selected, well, yikes.  LOTS of work spills out from there and frantic evenings prevail.  Then life happens...more responsibilities in committees, or student needs...and making room for everything becomes a struggle. And still.  I miss having a dog.

I know the dog would spend more time with my husband than with me - days and evenings, times when I leave for four days at a time - but still.  I deeply miss having a dog.  

My husband is wonderful.  He greets me when I arrive home each day of course!  I love my family, but they are far away.  And still...I miss that collie smile and wagging tail when I enter the house.  I miss hearing the high-pitched barks of welcome that would greet me when he heard the garage door. I miss taking my buddy for a walk in the evening.  Having a warm body at my feet as I work. Saying, "Time for bed!" and climbing the stairs together.  Waking up to a wet nose greeting me in the morning, alerting me it is time to start the day. 

The end of a dog's life is hard.  There are trips to the vet.  Medicine to give.  Lifting and cajoling...please get up and go potty!  It was difficult to see your best friend's body give out. And to know he was just tired. And ready. Even if I was not.  But I would do it all again for one more day with that sweet face. If that isn't love, I don't know what is.

We have had a couple years of losses.  Big ones.  Scary health issues. And the last was the loss of the dog. Then there has been a season of changes, with the grown children moving farther away.  I think more than anything, I am longing for some sense of stability.  That sense of youth that is slipping away from me.  Having a new furry family member fills a gap for me somehow between nurturing roles.  I am not sure why, but I know the act of caring for another animal grounds me.  Gives me purpose and reflects back to me the self-love I often forget to give myself.

I hope I am not being too selfish. I know that traveling means we have to find care for the dog or take them with us when possible. There is a hole in my heart that I am not sure any animal can fill.  But is a therapy animal a bad thing? I sure don't think so. On top of that, we would be saving a life. We  have always chosen a rescue pup.  Max was snatched from a kill shelter minutes before being put down. He lived a beautiful, long and happy life with us, well-loved.  I want to do that for another dog, knowing that in the process of saving that dog, I am also saving a piece of myself.

Stay tuned. But in the meantime, I sure miss having a dog.

Remembering My Mom

I wanted to write a tribute to my mom, and make sure that everyone would know how special she was, but there simply are not the words for the emotion. Yet, mothers are universal and in what I leave unsaid is also a shared understanding.   We know our parents in very different ways I suppose – not really as people in some respects, but as our protectors, our guides, our hearts.  The connection is deep and meaningful, and probably the ultimate purpose in life – to have that unnamed, limitless love surrounding us. How lucky when any of us have experienced that.

My mom still is that enveloping love for me, though she isn’t physically here. I wanted to say what I think of most, but honestly, I miss her voice the most.  I find myself calling the house phone when I know Dad isn’t there so I can hear her.  It doesn’t make me sad at all – it serves as a comfort to me when I feel lost without her. Academically, that makes perfect sense, in that our mother’s voice is the first voice we ever know, before we have a consciousness. My heart knows it is much more.

Probably folks know she was driven, she was philanthropic, she had high standards for herself, and for others.  What can I share that you wouldn’t know? She was quick-witted and funny.  She listened like nobody else, endlessly, as I talked endlessly. Nobody listens to you like your mom.  Nobody heard me like my mom. Nobody knows me like my mom did, in all my imperfection, as she did all her children.  She loved her family deeply…every last one of us.

The picture I have in my head of my parents has been there a long time. I remember a red brocade dress and fur coat she would wear out with my dad.  She was beautiful standing beside him, and I have this internal picture of them – probably in their 30’s – going out, and I thought they seemed so glamorous and intriguing, I was sure other kids wished their parents were as cool as mine. I don’t know that she ever felt beautiful, or knew her children saw that, but I did.

I remember discovering my parents were human beings – probably as a teenager – and being quite exasperated with that.  But I loved spending time with them, and checked in all through college…and mom babysat my children while we did masters programs and lived with them. And lord, I am sure that is not easy on anyone!  I think she knew we appreciated all those things, but sometimes I wonder if I thanked her enough for what she did for us.

Did you know my mom was quite a spirited child, teen, and young woman? She told some pretty funny stories of her escapades, often laughing and shaking her head.  And in the end, I know she wanted people to think of her as giving, as kind, as a good person.  I know it mattered that she was here for all of us. And I hope we all have a special JoAnne memory that you can share and hold dear.

I am the person I am because of my parents.  It is hard to separate mom from dad, because they have always been a team.  And I am thankful for that.  Perhaps the greatest gift we give our parents is found in the way we chose to lead our own lives in tribute to them. I know Mom was found of the saying, “We give our children two things: One is roots, the other wings.” And that pretty much sums it up. One conversation about the distance we all live from her, she laughed and said that living far away was not her intention when she stitched that saying!  She encouraged us all, even when that meant we would travel far from her side.  That is pretty incredible, but also a sign of her adventuresome spirit. I miss her every day and I am sure I always will.

I’d like to share a poem to close:

when I go from this place

dress the porch with garlands

as you would for a wedding my dear

pull the people from their homes

and dance in the streets

when death arrives

like a bride in the aisle

send me off in my brightest clothing

serve ice cream with rose petals to our guests

there’s no reason to cry my dear

I have waited my whole life

for such beauty to take

my breath away

when I go

let it be a celebration

for I have been here.

I have lived.

I have won this game called life.  rupi kaur

Becoming a grandparent

I am not sure anyone dreams about becoming a grandparent specifically, but there is a time in your life when you start to miss the parenting part of who you were.  The squeals and grunts of a baby, warm and cuddly in your arms, the sloppy kisses of a toddler, the funny antics of the very young...the best parts of watching your own children grow up. I knew we were ready to be grandparents when I saw other babies with their grandparents and felt that tug at my heart every so quietly. 

However, there are no words to express what happens when a tiny bundle of baby is placed in your arms and you recognize your legacy.    The familiarity of holding this child of your child, so new, so full of promise. The beauty of new life. Sensing the future that will leave you behind but live on in this beautiful child. Life comes full circle again, and it feels so extraordinary, that tears are the only answer. Tears of pure joy.

We know we love endlessly. We  have the capability to love beyond all limits of human understanding. And it is in that moment of holding my grandson, that I felt joy, love, and gratitude rush through me and out of me. I don't think I can ever forget that feeling, nor do I want to. And as he grows and changes, I will delight in each and very moment with him, celebrating his journey in ways I couldn't with my own children. We are so responsible for our own offspring, stewing, worrying, reprimanding, guiding, that I would find myself lost in seeing the forest for the trees. Nevermore. This child is our reward for all that hard work, and watching my own child parent could be one of the most affirming experiences of my life.

If I could bottle this, I could create world peace.

Love is a force for good

Today a relative and his long-term companion were finally able to get legally married in Indiana. How exciting and joyous this news is!  I can hardly sit still today, I am so excited!

Allowing ANYONE to get married - civil unions - has been a long time coming, and though there will probably be bumps along the way, there would seem to be a growing acceptance of the variety of ways human beings may express love and commitment as a civil right.  I am very content to know that this is finally happening.

I've often wondered how people can say such awful things about the ways in which people are different from one another.  I can't say I understand how one way is simply the right one, and another is deemed not.  I do understand that some cry out for religious reasons, but I would argue their indignation comes from fear, not religious zeal.  How does being homosexual affect someone else anymore than my green eyes do?  That is what it boils down to for me.

And if one believes in hell, what difference does it make if a group of people go there rather than heaven? And why is it up to one group of people to decide what is the right way to get there and which is not?  Believe what you want to believe of course, and you should be free to express it.  It does not mean that your expression should  infringe on others beliefs.  Isn't that why so many came to this country in the first place? To escape persecution?

I wonder how being homosexual, asexual, heterosexual, transgender, or any other label really impacts others.  It isn't like one group recruits for another after all, and what someone chooses to do with another consenting adult in the privacy of their own homes is of no business of mine.  I find that there are wonderful, creative, thoughtful, spiritual, caring, loving, energetic people in all walks of life, in a variety of human forms that seem to have little to do with their sexual orientation.  Being a good person, father, mother, sister, brother, friend, colleague, or partner is an expression of the heart and soul of a person.  Who we are should be judged by the way in which we treat others in this world in my book.  That is the way I would prefer to be evaluated, so why would I not believe all people should be evaluated by what is in their hearts and actions in this world?

I have known people in my life that are just awful human beings.  We were talking about a few today, and I wondered aloud to my husband why these middle-aged women in particular thought it was alright to be rude, mean - and really in some ways bullying - to the 21-year old me.  I forgave them long ago, but I trust the universe has plans for their past behaviors.  They do not fall in the group I mentioned above, but they went to church every Sunday and were heterosexual.  And awful human beings at the time. 

These are all random thoughts, and I am rambling I suppose, already defensive about my happiness for two people we love.  My point is we are each given a life and we have to navigate our way through the world.  For some of us, we are given privilege and rights simply by being born with various abilities, a certain color, gender, sexual-orientation, or socio-economic status that others are not.  I would hope that each of us would take a minute to think about the ways we might have advantages that others have never had as a result of these things.  These are not rights - they are a result of our birth, not a choice.  Holding onto those privileges seems to be the focus of our society rather than acceptance, tolerance, and love.  Those are the values I thought were most important. 

Brings me back to this happy day.  Two people I love dearly were finally given the opportunity to marry each other and declare their commitment in public.  They are a great couple, and each makes the other a better person when they are together.  They have someone to share the day with, their joys and sorrows with and that should be what everyone has the opportunity to have in their lives.  I have shed a few tears of joy today thinking of the day they were finally able to have together.  We love them dearly, and hope that others will be just as happy for them as we are!

Professionalism and the Future of Teachers

I hit a wall today hard. With a loud thud. I feel a little like a caged animal, trapped without realizing I had stepped into the cage, and struggling to find a way out.  So here's the story, but here is the background first.

When I came to North Carolina, I finished a Ph.D. in Music Education at the University of North Carolina Greensboro.  That entailed a 6-hour test over music theory and history to get into the university (I passed and didn't have to take remediation coursework).  I had to take a written comprehensive examination that required three 8-hour days, nine questions, and about 60 pages of words.  All out of my noggin, not using any resources.  Then I had to go in front of a committee for my oral examination.  I passed with distinction.  I wrote a dissertation, and I passed the oral examination/presentation required as my final hurdle.  I was hooded in the fine month of May, 2011, graduating from UNCG. 

I started teaching at ECU in the Fall of 2011, and was required to pay the $55 for a NC Teaching License in order to teach teachers how to teach. Okay.  I can do that.  I have 27 years of teaching experience in Indiana, a life license there with a Master's degree and 28 hours past my masters, PLUS now the doctorate.  I have papers, if not the pedigree, to do the job.  A formality, right?

Here's the catch.  The state of North Carolina has determined that I must take 7.5 CEU's every THREE years and pay $55 to renew the license, and I am not considered a 'teacher''.  I am only allowed to teach teachers. No, wait, there is 'good' news!  I can be considered a REAL teacher, if I take the Praxis II for music and if I pass.  Then I can have a license that requires me to turn in 7.5 CEU's every FIVE years, and pay $55 to renew my license.  Over the course of the time I intend to teach, that is about $210 the state will have collected in 'fees'.  Hmmm...

Might I say, that I am not only humiliated, exasperated, but also insulted.  Insulted that politicians think they know better than someone who has spent a lifetime in education, how one might best do the job.  When I heard I would need to pass the Praxis II, I thought of the written driving tests.  Just because you can pass one doesn't mean you should be on the road driving.  I have been 'driving' as an educational expert for a while now, and that should count.  My experience should be respected.  My degree, from an institution in the same state, should be respected. 

I am not upset that I would need certification of some kind. Nor that I have to renew it.  I am upset that if I keep the license without being a "real" teacher, I have to take MORE courses (CEU's) to do so.  Why?  Doesn't my degree buy me something? How about all the time I have spent in the classroom? I need to be policed as a beginning teacher the entire time I am teaching in NC? Doesn't anyone get this?

What other profession allows people from outside the area of study to determine what is best for certification for entry into the profession?  Do beauty schools have electricians determining licensing? Do doctors allow plumbers to set the standards for practice? And would plumbers want musicians setting their practice standards?  When will educational professionals be allowed to determine what is best for them? Why should a university professor take the same test as an undergraduate preservice teacher in order to be licensed? Haven't they been tested enough?  We have rules set by the National Association of Schools of Music, with guidelines for accreditation.  We police ourselves in higher education, and sometimes that means things move slowly, but it also means that we hold our own feet to the fire.  So why are the politicians determining what the guidelines should be for teacher educators? Why are we not allowed to determine this?

I am angry. And I know that it is only a test, and I could take it and shut up.  But that doesn't solve the problem of treating teachers, and in this particular breath teacher-educators, as consummate professionals.  I have given time, energy, and the better part of my life to this career.  I don't think I need to prove anything to anyone for a piece of $55 dollar paper that says what my degree already says. I can do this. I am doing this.  And if we don't stand up and fight for this, when will it change? Taking any test, and continuing to PAY to do my job is ridiculous. I have been tested enough and I am done with this nonsense.

There is my wall.  Thud.

The 3 AM Demons

As it would happen, I need to go into work this morning for the first time this semester, but at 3:15 AM, I awoke and haven't been able to lull myself back to sleep.  This used to happen to me every so often as a young adult, and truly doesn't happen much anymore.  Usually when it does, there is some over-riding reason for the anxiety I awaken with.  I feel the anxiety physically and yet feel a need to sleep, like it is a bad dream.  To get back to sleep, I try to visualize placing the problem in a box and closing the lid. Usually it helps.  This time, I couldn't place a finger on what to put in the box, and visualizing myself getting in became problematic and rather Freudian.  So I made a list.

Here were my worries as I recall:

1. The polar vortex. I was actually dreaming about it. And Scotland.
2. I am not a grandparent yet. What if I am not good at it?
3. I think I might have sounded arrogant at my first NCMEA meeting. Or pessimistic. Or I don't know how I sounded. But I should worry about it apparently.
4. Is my best friend from college back from visiting her daughter in Scotland? Where is she?
5. My courses for next term. Just because I get anxious before I teach.
6. Life insurance policies. I cancelled our big ones but how much is enough for us?
7. Travel woes.  Will I be able to save the money, and find the money, to go to Brazil for the International Society of Music Education Conference in July? I applied for two sessions to present. Was that a mistake?
8. NAfME - why did you take the researchers/higher educators away from the practitioners? That really upsets me on so many levels.
9. My children. Just because I can.
10. The far right politics of NC that have irritated my liberal sensibilities beyond belief.
11. Being reimbursed 30 cents a mile when I drive for over 100 miles to visit student teachers. But I get 56 cents a mile for 99 miles. And is that one trip? total miles? why did it change? who is the committee that sent that down through the college of ed? I am so confused on why that is fiscally sound. Or necessary.
12. Itchy skin. It may have been the initial reason I woke up.

So I am hoping when I see this list in the middle of a bright January North Carolina afternoon, I will laugh. Some of these are pretty silly. I mean, politics and polar vortexes (or is it vortexi?) aren't really anything I can do much about other than what I am already doing...staying informed, using my vote, being involved. Oh, and keeping warm.  If my friend is or isn't in Scotland, she will let me know when she has the time I am sure.  Being a grandparent isn't something I have much control over either now that I think about it.  Surely I will figure it out the same way I figured out how to be a parent. Oh, shoot, now I feel worried about that. I'll move on.

I suppose that some of these worries have real weight.  Money matters, family, facing your own mortality.  All are serious issues, but at three in the morning, they become this blob of anxiety.  Then there are professional line items.  Not sure there is much I can do about NAfME or whether or not my comments at NCMEA were odd or interpreted differently than I intended, but the fact that I can't wrap my mind around the sense of the mileage claims has really stuck in my craw.  Perhaps my son-in-law can explain that one to me.

Finally, the itchy skin that kind of comes and goes. I really need to let a medical professional look at it again because the online stuff can be way too freaky to wade through and might create further worry. It better not be chocolate or coffee causing that. That would just be mean.

I am pretty darn sure most of us are anxious about things and are awakened by a list of anxieties occasionally.  The 3AM Demons I usually call them, and I wonder if there is a research study detailing why that happens and if early man suffered from them as well.  Did I kill that animal fast enough or did it suffer? Really, does the cave need to be bigger and need more fire pits? Can I get a replacement on our bear rug soon, or is this going to be another ten-year ordeal? And how about my contemporaries that I admire? And do famous people worry about things the same way or more famously and fabulously? Or do those folks have anxieties in a different vortex (or would that be vorti)?  And now that I am thinking about it, why do we call this blast of polar air a vortex again? I didn't listen very well at all yesterday when Al explained it I know now.

How do you cope with your demons at 3AM?  Do you visualize a place to tuck your problems or anxieties away for later? Is there a trick I am missing? Right now, I am thinking warm milk and a soft blanket curled up on the couch with a cat on my lap might help keep them at bay so I can get some sleep. After all, I need to be up in two hours!

Confronting Issues of Social Justice

Two events have collided this week for me.  A personal experience crossed into the fiasco I have seen unfold on the news. Let me start with my personal story. 

First, we had a landscaper come in to help clear an area of our yard that was overgrown and not cared for when we moved in.  We wanted to get down to the floor of the lawn, overgrown with vines and leaves, and trim up the trees, taking out a dead one.  My husband had discussed this with the neighbor one day, and she seemed excited that we were planning to do this, stating they wanted that too.  So when we started the clean-up, we were not particularly worried about the property line, but clearing the area, most of which was in our yard. Or so we thought.

Sure enough, the man next door came over and chewed out the landscaper's assistant.  Colorfully I guess.  Once we caught wind of it, we pointed out the line and asked them to make sure they left the neighbor's side alone.  We were confused about it, but since the neighbors never came over to talk with us, we assumed it was a bad day, and that things were fine.  We were wrong.  The next day, he came over again, approaching the assistant first, accusing him of trespassing.  The landscaper finally got involved and asked the man to speak with us.  I saw him approach the landscaping crew, so I went to get my husband to talk with the neighbor.  As Mark left the front of the house, the neighbor walked quickly into his house. This dance happened several times.  The neighbor appeared to avoid us at any cost and chose to chew out the assistant.  Hang in there - I have a point.

So on day three, I wandered into our backyard, as the landscaping crew was working within our fence, and asked if there were any more issues.  Our landscaper smiled and then pointed to the assistant and said, 'No, but he has a theory for you. Go ahead, she won't mind.' The assistant said to me, (and I am paraphrasing and trying to give you a bit of the spoken language - it is part of the story) 'Don't you be naive.  This ain't about the line, this 'bout having a black man working with a machete on your property. Had this happen before ma'am, so I know what I sayin!  Got let go from a job cause the owner don't want no black man on his land.  This the south. White folk don't like no black folk in the neighborhood, no way. That what you dealin' with here, I sure of it.'  I just couldn't speak.  I finally choked out, 'I am sorry,' but I had no words for him.  What could I say?

We talked about it that evening, and I wondered, could this be part of the issue, or is it a bad coincidence? Why had we not considered racial prejudice a part of our property line issue? Of course I noticed his race.  I didn't consider what working in our neighborhood might mean. What is our neighborhood and why? I know it is racially-mixed, but obviously our guests did not.  And does our neighbor have a differing view? And of course, being a woman, I know what it feels like to be treated differently, so I also don't want to diminish anyone else's experiences by saying, "Oh, I am sure that isn't it." So sorry was all I could say...and yet, what was I apologizing for? 

So take two, the issue with Paula Deen.  I feel awful about the entire situation, but probably not for the same reason. I have no particular sympathy for Deen.  She had no issue perpetuating stereotypes of the Antebellem South as if it is a simpler time we should yearn for. It blatantly shows her complete ignorance of issues of racism and slavery.  Why would anyone want to promote this as an ideal part of our history - particularly when racism and oppression continue across our planet. Should she be a spokesperson for the new, gentle south? I think not. But she does represent what I see as a south "all dressed up with a dirty neck." We want to present the south as beautifully cultured, but the issues of cultural prejudice continue beneath the surface.  Do I think the Food Network should drop Deen? They have no choice but to do so. 

So my world has collided with the bigger world this week, and I am forced to think even more deeply about how we confront racism, stereotypes, or inequities on a daily basis.  I feel great guilt for being white in this place, knowing the ugliness that has existed here. So how do I change it?  My husband and I both made a point of shaking all the landscapers hands and thanking them, eye to eye.  It isn't enough, but what if each of us chose to meet each other openly, talking about the issues we face as human beings. And I have to find new ways of helping my students uncover their own preconceptions and cultural stereotypes or we perpetuate these issues.  We have to talk about those things that are hardest to talk about.

Here is the bigger picture for me. We can't fight prejudice against culture, gender, sexual preference or socioeconomic status if we don't confront the assumptions we make. And we can't confront those if we aren't willing to hear what someone else is trying to tell us. I am not beyond my own prejudices.  I have realized that I am ready to apply my stereotype belief like the one I hold about athletes (not bright, only worried about their bodies),  or about the rich (vacuous, self-centered, wanting to keep their money to themselves). I would say men like Paula Deen's brother Bubba make my skin crawl, as I identify him as the type of man who makes me so uncomfortable. I imagine the sexual innuendos he probably makes that I am supposed to accept as him being funny, or the ways in which he puts women in their place with stereotypical comments about their sexuality.  It reminds me of the times I was unable to stand up for myself, even when I felt I was being put down for my gender and the job I did. 

Fighting Stereotypes

We all do it.  Each of us lives with certain assumptions about other people.  The rich are selfish, conniving, materialistic folks, devoid of the milk of human kindness.  The poor take welfare checks and buy iPhones, leaving their rent unpaid, and as such are undeserving of our help or support.  Let the churches help them, but leave my tax dollars alone.  The problem with our assumptions of the socioeconomics of our fellow man is that we simply do not have a clue.

Snips and Snails and Puppy Dog Tails...

It has become somewhat of a Fall tradition to celebrate with a family birthday weekend, gathering in Raleigh to spend a day playing in the city and selecting a fine dining experience before retiring very late, sleeping just a little, and having a big breakfast before heading home.  In the spring, we are hard-pressed to get the family together even with Easter right around the corner.  But tomorrow is our youngest child's birthday. For about a month, I have been thinking about, and hoping to spend the day with him, just as I do with our oldest child in the fall.  We are going to manage to do so ON the day of his birth, driving up to take him shopping, lunch, and present him with gifts worthy of a 28-year old man. 

It is also a time I feel nostalgic about our kids, in a way that grips my heart a bit. After all, giving birth changes your life forever and you learn to love in a way that is impossible to explain with words. I wonder at the amazing people they have become, knowing I may have been a part of that but understanding it was only a very small part.  I feel so thankful I married a man who was my partner through these many ups and downs of child-rearing, sharing in every aspect of their lives from the very beginning.  I am indebted to the many people along the way who helped shape them and offered encouragement in their lives - both to them and to us!  I find that I am able to forgive the transgressions and know it has made them stronger and taught me lessons on letting go and allowing my children to grow and find themselves in the process.

Around their birthdays, I pour over old pictures of their newborn faces, wonder at how tiny they were, and how quickly they grew.  It seems now they grew up in a week, yet I remember at the time I thought it would last forever.  I vowed I would never regret a minute of raising our children.  Though there are no regrets specifically (I mean, who wouldn't wish they had had more patience?), I wouldn't mind feeling that grimey little hand tugging at my skirt and to look down into those big blue eyes and wide grin from either of my children. I remember them best at about 3 and 6, with the youngest as a happy, giggly, wiggly little boy and his sister, serious, contemplative, and loving.  The two together were often tangled in a war of power or ownership, but most often I have a video in my mind of the two children with the oldest in the lead, followed by a tow-headed little guy hanging on her every word...played out, of course, as only an intelligent, worldly big sister can. The two of them at that age seems more etched in my memory...to the point that at times, I still see that child in the depth of their eyes today.

I don't wish for time to play out differently.  Nostalgia is a part of growing older.  Instead, we are constantly amazed at the wonderful human beings they have become. Not perfect, mind you, just nice, kind people, sensitive to the needs of the world around them, and working hard to find their place in it.  We are so very proud of the people they are, and we enjoy being around them, with them, and they are still teaching us about life.  Now, we are learning how to be parents to adult children.  

So tomorrow we celebrate, laugh, enjoy the moments, and I will try to pack those memories away for the future.  And I wish him a year of love, laughter, and dreams coming true as only his mother can.

Where Ideas Germinate

As the new year is once again upon me, I thought I would think about what I have learned the past year.  I am sure there is plenty to write about, but what comes to me tonight is my settling into the new job.  Though occupation doesn't define us, it does certainly color our lives.  For me, teaching has been a calling, and growing into this job has been a real gift.

I try to see the glass as half-full in most areas of my life.  Sometimes, I suppose, folks perceive that as naive.  I prefer to try to think things through before voicing the negative.  Always the best choice when you are without, well, a lot of proof.  You know, the whole assumption of innocence thing! For some reason, I really thought that the university glass tower was a place where ideas come to germinate.  I have changed my mind and have decided that higher education is really not much different from other walks of life, in that ideas aren't guaranteed fertile soil. It isn't with sadness that I say that - it is simply a more realistic perspective gained over the past 18 months.

The ivory tower, I had always assumed, was such because it was disconnected from the practical, a place where ideas lived as a jungle of overgrowth, heavy with amazing vegetation.  The tower for me represented my need to see the world in new ways, to find new paths to share with others, and to have time to think.  I still think that is true to some extent.  What I have discovered is that there are many wonderful, fertile lands inside the ivory tower...but there are also a few lands which have been exhausted.  Now I know I am mixing metaphors, but stay with me!  When a crop has been planted too many years in a row, over and over in the same piece of land, the land is stripped of its nutrients.  As a result, future crops wither.  A field has to have rotated crops, and fallow (rest) to remain fertile.  Crop rotation is as ancient as farming is I suppose.  So if we think about people and their ideas as crops, then I suppose we need fresh ideas or at least different ones introduced to keep our minds fertile.  Staying inside the ivory tower - or anywhere for that matter - without refreshing our perspectives means that our minds begin to atrophy.  We become the very thing I believed the ivory tower could resist! Our minds close, we become oblivious to new ideas, and we atrophy to the convention of the ivory tower, or whatever context we are in at the time.

My conclusion is that curiosity about the world is not a simple matter of the individual nor a simple matter of context.  It is some combination of both.  It is the individual who keeps his mind fertile for new ideas to germinate and something more.  The new ideas need fresh air, warm sunshine, cool nights, and plenty of water to really take root and grow.  That would be the context.  So matching the individual with ideas, to the context, may also be important.  For each idea, just like different plant species, that could mean different amounts of air, light, dark, and water, different growing times...and so on.  So it is possible that some ideas might take root in some places and not others. And some people may be better suited for certain terrains than others.

So it is possible that ideas aren't more likely to flourish in the ivory tower, even if some are  more conducive to their growth.  It is the individuals who really make these things happen.  I feel  so fortunate that I have found a context that is providing what I need personally to thrive and grow.  It has been one of the most pleasant places I have ever worked, and I feel very much like I can grow into the job.  My discovery is also important, as I hope to remember that I am responsible for rotating the crops - for guarding against stripped soil, and making sure I continue to stretch beyond my comfort zone. As we begin 2013, I look forward to the challenges and the joys of tending to the germinating ideas around me.  Happy New Year!

The Power of Aesthetic Education

I remember talking to one of my professors about what I thought the power of aesthetic education and he told me to continue to expand on one particular kernel of my thoughts.  Today, as we finish a year another year, I thought I might do just that.

First of all, American education

Bennett Reimer tells us musical experiences in education "are necessary for all people if their essential humanness is to be realized" (p. 29).

David Elliott summarized by James Daughtery "Music is a domain of human activity accessible, achievable and applicable to all. Moreover, the primary values of music as an end in itself, i.e., self-growth, self knowledge, and enjoyment, coincide with and overlap values beneficial to individuals and societies. Teaching music is a means of enculturation."

"Music is strongly associated with the brain's reward system. It's the part of the brain that tells us if things are valuable, or important or relevant to survival, said Robert Zatorre, professor of neurology and neurosurgery at Montreal Neurological Institute." http://www.cnn.com/2012/05/26/health/mental-health/music-brain-science/index.html

"Some people have theorized that that was the original function of this behavior in evolution: It was a way of bonding people emotionally together in groups, through shared movement and shared experience," Patel said.

As the interview comes to an end, Dr. Schlaug briefly touches on the importance of music education in the development of a child’s brain. He also mentions his work using song as a means of verbal development within children, as well as rehabilitation of the speech/language functions lost in stroke victims. http://musicbrainerblogger.blogspot.com/2012/09/making-music-changes-brains.html; Schlaug, G. (2010) Making Music Changes Brains, Gottfried Schlaug: Music and the Brain. [podcast] April 29, 2010. Link: http://www.loc.gov/podcasts/musicandthebrain/podcast_schlaug.html

Forward from An Aesthetic Education in the Era of Globalization: Forward: Aesthetic Education for the Ethical Impulse, editors comments (Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak)
"In a world where there are so many forces conspiring to shatter any person’s sense of having a self, the deconstruction that Spivak once championed is problem, not solution. The solution lies right where great theorists who dominated the field twenty years ago denied it lay, in teaching literature as a means of causing people to realize that they have souls. 

More becoming...from a past self.

I was cleaning out old files, actually looking for a paper I wrote, and I found this little gem I wrote in 2-1/2 years ago.  Not sure why it was on a word doc rather than here, or maybe it was too personal or painful at the time.  But I thought of all my friends who are moving through this space now, and decided it was time to share my thoughts on the...duh-duh-duhn...Comprehensive Exams!  So here it is, unedited...

 May, 2010

The past semester has felt as if it extended two years, but not necessarily because it was painful.  I think it was because I was sifting back through the journey of the past three years and working at pulling together as I could from what I have learned since arriving in Greensboro in August, almost three years ago.  It has been that process of returning to information, revisiting new ideas, constructing and reconstructing how I know what I know and synthesizing it that has made the time stretch in a different way!

I understood that my teaching would have an impact on my learning.  What I didn’t understand when I came was the impact that what I would learn would have on my teaching.  I have a better understanding of who I was as a music teacher and what I did or didn’t do in the time I spent in public schools.  I also understand that who I am right now, at this moment, is continuing to morph and adapt to new roles as I begin to understand them.  The process of preparing for the comprehensive written exams and the oral defense of those exams contributed to that.

Having the opportunity to blend all of the practical aspects of teaching with the theoretical, speaking through the coursework I have taken, was an amazing journey of, dare I say, epic proportions.  It is sincerely the hardest thing I have ever had to do.  I know there were many moments, well, perhaps days, where I lost my sense of direction.  It was like herding cats in my head!  There were times when I depended on others to tell me I would be okay, and just repeated those words in my head over and over.  The worst possible outcome was not failing, I decided, but being too afraid to risk it all by trying.  I remember the moment I finally convinced myself of those things.  I felt as if I was ready to step off that precipice and trust that I had attached myself to a glider that actually would glide!

I don’t know that anyone can properly prepare someone else for the process of such a herculean academic task.  I suppose, in looking back, I realized I was shooting for that moment all along, as I did keep copious notes and flashcards for the classes that I knew would be part of the foundation of knowledge.  Beyond that, I think I prepared by listening to what others did or didn’t do and simply devoting time each and every day in some manner or another.  I kept track of the time I spent preparing and I averaged about 18 hours a week for about 12 weeks leading up to the three day exam.  I did a little bit every day, chipping away at things that seemed too big to handle or researching just one more article or reading just one more chapter in a book or simply taking notes.  The result is a very rich three-inch binder and two accordion files of information that I have now to dig into whenever I need it!

Perhaps moving closer to the goal has solidified for me that I made an incredibly brilliant choice by following my gut instinct in coming to UNCG.  Without the support of the doctoral committee I have, without the opportunities provided to me along the way, there is no way I would have been able to do this.  As a teacher, stepping into the role of student again, I realize anew the power that a teacher holds to create or deny success in their students.  It is a two-way street, of course, but there is also truth to who holds the power.  The difference I have seen is that the teacher power here is not viewed as a weapon, but as a tool to facilitate change.  The faculty care deeply about facilitating change in the students without being too attached to "success" that they are not willing to allow the student to fail if necessary!

I also feel like part of a team here.  I knew what my job was, and I continue to grow into the jobs I am given. I have been carefully trained, groomed perhaps, and offered the opportunities to experience the things I needed to grow.  It amazes me to this day that I have had the vast opportunities to experience so much.  It is humbling to know so many have shared so much in order for me to pursue this degree.

I know I have one last mountain to climb.  I realize that this is actually the largest, hardest task of all.  Yet, somehow, a great calm possesses me right now.  I saw the written and comprehensive exams as a gauntlet and I made it through unscathed.  That has given me a great confidence boost that I may need in tough days ahead!

 

Sitting with Sadness

When I started on my journey five years ago, it was with great excitement and anxiety.  I found many turns along the way that seemed to help me understand who I am, love the people in my life a little bit more, and find the good in many awful situations.  The one we find ourselves in as a family today is not one of those.

I have struggled in the last few hours to center myself.  The death of a family member is hard, and when families are fractured by mental illness and estrangement over a period of time, the pain cuts through the layers of resentment and problems over the years, making all wounds fresh.  Nobody is to blame in any of this.  I return to my belief that we make our own way through life with free will.  We chose our path through the minute decisions we make daily.  When a person chooses to end his or her life, I can only find intense sadness and a sense of loss of human potential.  Not blame, though I do believe it is a decision made in a moment of incomprehensible pain and suffering.  Unfortunately, when that decision is made, there is a large ripple effect in the world.  It would be one thing if a suicide ended in one life.  It doesn't - it affects many, many lives, changing them forever. The selfishness of such an act impacts others at the pace of a level 5 hurricane.  The emotional toll and destruction left behind is often hard to estimate, and of course, the person responsible doesn't have to live with the repercussions of such an act.  Perhaps I sound a bit angry.  I am not sure what I am.

There is no silver lining, no lesson to be learned.  Nothing but heavy sadness sits on me as I write this.  An occasional streak of anger tells me my own will to live fights through the weight of the moment.  It may even be a bit of rage flamed by the edge of exhaustion, and yet, I know we will get through this.  It is, as my husband stated, a very sad thing that we (he and I) will step over this mess and go on with our lives.  How the family will mend is another question altogether.

The fact of the matter is, the adults will be fine.  The next generation is the one who will suffer.  Perhaps these are the ones who have or will suffer the sins of their relatives.  In particular, his children are the ones who have suffered into their early adulthood.  Nothing we have done or can do in the future will ever change what they have endured over the past fifteen years.  Healing, moving on, may or may not be possible, as the extended family must face the old fears and pain from the past, all stripped raw again.  It is a Greek tragedy at its finest - only this is the life we are living. ///

I keep thinking "How did we get here? To today? To this point of no return?" But there are no answers.  We went back and rehashed and replayed moments, critical points of disagreement, and still, we missed the signs.  We missed something, somewhere along the way that might have changed the final act.  And though we missed it, I also know it doesn't matter and probably never did.  We did the best we could in the moments we were given.  We dealt with so much more, tried so hard to change the course of his life, and yet, he rebounded to his illness like a sturdy rubber band.  It was a shell game we were never going to win.

If anything, I suppose we need to find ways to become advocates of helping those who are mentally ill.  Families are ill-equipped to meet the needs of adults with mental health issues, and are particularly handicapped in getting them the help they need.  It is more intense when the person won't accept help.  At that point, there is nothing to be done by family members.  Forced treatment is not an option.  Saddest part of all of this?  We were told nothing could be done until he was a danger to himself or others.  We didn't have the necessary evidence for that.  We sure do now - and it is too late.

The pain I feel is for the others in this clan and it is almost crushing in its enormity. Even though healing is what the extended family needs, I don't know how or when that will happen.  I don't know if it is something that can be planned for.  I am not sure what part Mark & I will play in all of this.  I just know today fighting the sadness is not possible.  I will let sadness sit with me here until I figure out what else I should be doing with it.

Cuddling the Furries

When I was young I wanted to be a veterinarian.  I wanted to care and gather up as many animals as I could to make the world a better place. I attempted 'fixing' birds, got a kitten, and I think we had some turtles, if not a few fish.  It was through those experiences that I realized being a veterinarian was a difficult thing - involved blood, guts, and emotional choices I didn't like all that much.  I never lost my passion and wonder for all the creatures of the planet - though I do have some specific preferences for the ones I choose to live with! So while I was cuddling my creatures today, I thought about all the lessons of life through our contact with animals.

I read in the paper this week about a pitbull who had to be taken into the pound to be watched for rabies.  The owner had not kept the dog contained, and he viciously attacked and mauled two women.  I have nothing against the breed of pitbulls, but I have everything to say about the people who kept this dog.  This animal was obviously not socialized properly, trained, or cared for in a way that other human beings would be safe around it. The owners failed the dog, and this happens far too often.  The lesson here is that we are the product of our socialization - and brutality begets violence. We have to be responsible for our actions, as they have consequences that ripple far beyond the walls of our homes.

Another story on the news was a rescue of a small poodle mix with her five puppies.  They were abandoned on the side of the road, and the pups were probably only about 2 weeks old.  It astounds me that anyone could take an animal in that condition, and simply decide to let nature take her course.  The mother dog was not born in the wild, and yet was suddenly placed in a situation where she could not care for herself, let alone her offspring.  The cruelty amazes me, but we turn our backs on human beings the same way.  The lesson here is perhaps open your eyes to those among us who need a helping hand.  It would do us good to help others in need, furry or not.

We live with three furries - one is a smart border collie mix named Max, a black and white 'tuxedo' cat named Ike, and a tiny 13 year old long-haired 'blue' with hypothyroid disease.  Each of them are rescues, and each have a list of needs...long walks, measured food, and medications can sometimes seem to fill a day.  Meeting each of their needs may seem crazy, but the lesson is that the world is not about us individually.  There are other beings depending on us for their life, their happiness, and their well-being.  Giving back to them daily keeps us centered.

And beautifully, these furry creatures give back in so many ways.  Max is a true guard dog and though his barking annoys us at times, he is much better than an alarm system.  (Although I am not sure I need to know when Romeo the cat wanders through Archie & Jane's yard.) He does lots of tricks, loves children, and smiles at about anyone he meets on the street.  He cuddles as much as a 60 pound BIG dog can, and I always appreciate how he nuzzles me daily, just as he did as a puppy, placing his face as close to my neck as he can, and then pushing his 'smart bump' into my chest to get as close as he can.  It is like having a big furry bear hug!  His lesson is to love with exuberance daily with abandon!

Ike  the cat is a character.  She fancies herself to be Max's companion (to his distress) and works at winning his affections in a daily routine of rolling around beside him and touching his face with her paws.  Though he sometimes plays hard to get, he will eventually give in and nuzzle her.  I suppose the lesson here is that if you keep at it long enough,  and roll around enough, you can get what you want...

Neither of our cats are fond of people like Max is.  As a matter of fact, they will disappear at the sound of a voice outside of the immediate family.  Where they go is a mystery, but Guyton will come look around a corner to check things out after an hour or so.  Ike doesn't come out until the coast is clear of strangers.  The lesson?  Be wary of strangers, and take your time to feel comfortable in new situations.

Guyton has special needs, as the thyroid medication is necessary unless we have her go through surgery.  She is barely 4 pounds, and has always been small.  We coerce her into eating with small bits of butter on her food, or what we refer to as kitty-crack.  She also has to put up with Ike's antics - which include jumping on top of her from the dresser, from the stairs, from around a corner, from behind a chair...and when Guyton has had enough she hisses and bats until Ike finally slinks away.  Confront your enemies when you have had enough, and be insistent that you are done with the nonsense.  A great lesson for all of us.

Best of all? The mornings when the dog is sleeping across (read: on top) of my feet, Guyton is stretched out full length sidled up to my legs, and Ike is curled up on the pillow. I know at these moments I should get up and start the day, but there is so much furry warmth and sweetness next to me, I can't help myself!  I just have to snuggle in and cuddle my furry friends...the day can wait 5 more minutes.  Yes, that is the best lesson of all!

Buying the 'Forever' House

Buying a house is probably best for those who are psychological thrill-seekers.  The rest of us work hard at being informed consumers, but truth be told, we are probably reacting in a manner deeply ingrained in each of us. It is a difficult process wrought with emotional and cognitive dissonances that are often difficult to weed through.  I had forgotten some of that in looking at homes with my husband, but today I was reminded!

First, let me say, we have been looking for over a year.  We started with my first trip to Greenville, when I went to see a few homes, and toured neighborhoods.  We came back in May (yes over a year ago) but were not comfortable buying a home without selling ours.  So we looked and waited, and watched, and looked and waited, and finally rented a beautiful home close to the university when our house didn't sell.  By the time we were fortunate enough to sell, the holidays were upon us and we let that time slip on by.  As an early spring rolled around, we dipped our proverbial toes back in the water and then just jumped right in!  So here we are, nearly sixty houses later, with what we have determined might just be our forever home.

The problem of course, is that no place, no home, is perfect.  But when you have been through as many houses in the area as we have, you begin to determine what you really want to have, what you think you can live with, and all those other emotional needs and ideas about money that seep into the cracks of every decision you try to make.  The house we chose seemed to also chose us..silly as it sounds. My husband wanted to live in two stories again...check.  He wanted a garden space, which this one has in droves.  We needed a fenced backyard, and a nice, big, open kitchen where the family can gather.  We really loved the four bedrooms we had in our last home, and hoped to find that again.  We did.  We wanted at least two full baths.  A separate laundry room. My husband wanted an enclosed porch for plants and morning coffee, and a garage was something we have missed sorely over the last five years.  All checked off! 

I have a red plate we called the "special" plate that has the statement "You are special today!" emblazoned across the lip.  We used it with our kids as they were growing up, and as we stepped into that kitchen, there was one just like it!  Each room we stepped into offered something special that seemed to fit into the way we like to live in our homes.  The downside? It is 6 miles out of town and I really wanted to walk.  I don't think I will be walking 6 miles to school anytime soon!  Now I have to battle the traffic of a morning commute, and I have all 8AM classes next term...hmmm...but when we went back to see the house, I just couldn't imagine it really bothering me.  The thought of walking into that house at the end of a long day felt right.  So we made the dive!
Sounds like a love story right? Well, my husband and I have totally different ideas of what negotiating and buying a house are.  We approach life the same way.  I react to things almost on an instinct of what I like, what I want, what I do. I fall hard and fast and stay loyal to my decisions.  I err on finding the shiny, the clean, the clear, the glorious in the moment, and he is very cautious, examining every negative thought he can come up with as if he is paid to do so.  Example: He actually voiced a concern that IF it would get too cold for too long, the screened porch MIGHT not be enough protection for the delicate olive tree, which would mean he could lose the tree or it MIGHT lose all its leaves. I just looked at him with "Whaaa???" all over my face. I mean, who thinks of that? So I said, "Couldn't you bring it into the garage?" To which he said, "Oh, well, probably that would work."  Me: "Isn't that what we did in Indiana? Brought it inside?" Husband: "Yes, but it is much colder there." Me: "I am really confused.  SO we are buying the house for Olive Tree comfort?" I was really concerned we were going to have to attend to each and every single plant species before we could agree on the house.

And so it went.  Every good thing I found, he found three negatives. And here is the kicker.  He does the same thing EVERY time we buy a house! We fought like cats and dogs over our last two purchases - the first, over a house I loved, the second over the one he loved - and yes, I was pushing him because he said he loved it!  You can imagine if HE loved it, and I gave in, that when he pulled back, I went a little, well...ballistic might be the word.  This morning I was so mad at him, I took the longest, hardest power walk I have had in a while.  I think the dog enjoyed it, and it worked off some steam.  And the two of us did finally agree to a number to counter the counter-offer.

I suppose our outlook on homes (my mom is a superb homemaker and taught home management - his mom was a terrific homemaker as well) and on money (our parents came from agriculture, grew up with large families and little money having to work hard for what they had). Their homes have always been warm, welcoming, and beautiful places to be.  And we feel your home is a reflection of who you are, and we struggled to figure that part out.  I mean, am I a brick ranch in the city or am I a two-story colonial in the country?  Am I a fixer-upper or a ready-made dream?  What we can afford, and what we want to spend also comes into play.  I want to push it, he wants to save it.  I figure things out to the penny, he wants to pinch every penny!  We simply roll as we did as children, teens, young adults, I suppose.  So he digs in his heels and refuses to negotiate, while I prod and plead and try to get a bit of movement from our side.  I have to admit, the dissonance in our approaches seems to work well for the deal we get.  I only push hard when I am SOLD on what we should do and that seems to be the only 'giving' he does.  So we end up with a fair deal, and when he is done moaning about the expenditure and bills, I think he will really enjoy it.  I know I will!  But the process?  I would rather not, thank you.  This is why it is now to be known as the 'forever' house!

I probably have deeper observations on all of this, but we close and move one month from today - gotta go pack!

Reflections on Being 'In Tune' in the Classroom

I was thinking this morning about the ways in which we are able to reflect and think about our our teaching.  My newest teaching job entails guiding student teachers...and I must admit, I take this calling very seriously.  And while it is difficult, it is also rewarding.  In the past five years, I have had the privilege of guiding more than 25 student teachers, and some easily move into a self-reflective mode of thinking, while others depend on my evaluation, and everywhere in between.  In order to be a better teacher-educator, I have to be able to analyze my own perspective.  I started to think about how I reflect, the problems I have had learning to do so and judge my own effectiveness, and how I might actively assist my own students in doing the same.  And it hit me that this is a habit of mind; perhaps a direct result of curiosity and the need to continue to learn about the world.

Teaching is not a cookie cutter discipline, nor is it easy if you simply 'like' children, adolescents, or adults.  It can be much like herding cats, never sure which direction the feline is headed, or whether or not you will meet some sharp claws in the process.  (And the hissing too!)  But in order to teach, you have to be in-tune with the all the social interactions of the classroom. This is not just the personal interactions with each student, but with the entire classroom of students, the larger context of your teaching load, the department, the school, the central office, the community, and on it goes.  Each of those create quite a unique scenario, changing daily, if not hourly.  It amazes me that we want to train teachers as if we can go out and give the same commands and the students will respond.  But I digress.  So how do we KNOW our teaching is effective? How do we know it is working? How we reflect to address these questions is dependent on what I think are five tuning points.

First, we have to be in tune with who we are and the soul of why we teach (pedagogically, academically, theoretically grounded).  It is a constant calibration for each of us.  Like tuning in radio stations on a cross country trip, there are times when the channel is clear and steady, and then suddenly we lose it, and have to re-tune or change the station in order to continue.  I believe that is not unlike how we determine who we are and how and why we teach.  The deepest level of knowing who we are vital to the second point.

Second, we must be in tune with our students. It is a development of what I think is being called 'emotional intelligence' or perhaps in the past ten years more likely to be referenced as interpersonal relationship development. In order to begin to address our own effectiveness, we must be openly observing how our students respond, react, receive, and recycle the lessons we present.  Teaching and learning never exists in a vacuum, and there have been times I am sure I learned much more than my students did.  What they can share with us is priceless, and they come to us with a variety of experiences and assumptions about who we are as well.  One way to begin to become in tune with our students is to listen twice and talk once!

Third, we have to ask questions about teaching and learning daily. We tune our attention to as many different techniques we can to assess our own effectiveness as teachers.  Being in tune with ourselves and with our students is only one dimension of the process.  Being in tune with the broader profession is important as well.  How do all teachers determine what is appropriate and significant positive change in our students? How many perspectives might we take to examine our own teaching? I used to think that criticism from outside my field of music was unnecessary and an impediment to my personal teaching growth.  If they are not musicians, what could they possibly know about what I do?  I was terribly wrong!  How powerful are voices when they can articulate what they see from the outside for us? It is possible they do not see the detail we do, but hearing what they DO see is powerful for our own growth with our students.  After all, our students don't come in knowing what we know - but what we share might be most clear to those who do not know us.  Don't discount the voices of our administrators and peers without first taking them into careful consideration. 

Fourth, we have to find at least three ways to determine whether what we are doing is working.  That means that funny word assessment needs to be applied. Not only do we have to use it, we have to fine tune our assessments to pick up on the details we are helping students construct, from examining portfolios to testing them on vocabulary or performance skills.  We assess to determine how well our students can do something or what it is they know.  We evaluate when we attach value or worth to something.  Our evaluations are often a part of the assessment tool we use, so we have to develop and utilize multiple ways to examine what our students know and can do when we finish teaching.  This has often surprised me as well, in that what I had thought I was teaching was not the central message my students took from the lesson or unit.  Which begs to question whether the assessment tool was not aligned to the lesson/unit or whether my objectives were not aligned with my strategies in the classroom. 

Fifth and finally, we have to reflect to be able to use what we have collected to navigate the next encounter with our students. We have to tune in to our daily rhythms and learn to read our context cues carefully.  For some of us, the reflections may be written and for others, it could be an aural recording.  It might take the form of a diary for some, a checklist for others, or a series of post-its attached to lesson plans.  But that isn't really enough - reflection has to move into reflexivity.  To be reflective is to examine the ways in which you practice the art of teaching.  The goal of being reflective is to change or improve your own teaching.  Reflexive response is bi-directional and can be thought of as a cause and effect, or a more circular response, with you and your views of teaching at the center.

For example, after watching myself teach during a rehearsal,  I knew I needed to be more on target with my comments and have my students play more than I talked.  So I used a 3 x 5 note card to help change some habits that I thought would make me a more effective and efficient teacher in this regard.  I still use that technique when I am working on altering a habit I may have developed that I do not care for.  The reflexivity - the small change for the benefit of all - was a result of reflecting on the tuning points I addressed above.  There is much more to be discussed between reflexive and reflective thinking, but I will leave it simply stated for now.  It caps off the point I am making in that the art of teaching is forever changing based on the context of the moment and the human beings involved.  What could be more reflexive than that?

And my student teachers will grow and learn.  I must find a way to affect their habit of mind first, and encourage the growth and development of these skills. The greatest compliment I have ever received came from a graduate student who told me he saw my philosophy of teaching in practice.  I was honored and humbled by his remark...which has caused me to continue to reflect and respond to the needs of my students!

Didn't Ghandi say it best? "Be the change you wish to see in the world."

Living in the moment

There is an upside to of a certain age.  At least, this is what I have discovered over the past six years. I do remember that I felt this when I was younger. The first time I truly experienced living in the moment was holding my newborns for the first time -  stopped time in its tracks!  Somehow, though, those moments of enjoying my children for the first time got lost in the process of helping them into adulthood.  The next time I experienced it, I was walking to the music building on Northwestern's campus, and stopped to look at the sun dancing on the lake, with a beautiful bed of flowers in front of me...and the Chicago skyline as a backdrop.  And I remember just stopping and breathing it all in.  I suddenly remembered I knew this feeling - but this time, I made a promise to myself to keep it.

Since that moment, I have found that I am much better able to exist within the moment, time, day, than when I was younger.  For example, padding around the house this morning in the 4AM hour, I quite enjoyed the quite silence right before sunrise, and was struck by how calm and happy I was to just BE.  As I drove to Havelock, NC an hour later,  I looked forward to watching the sunrise over the bridge as I crossed over into the innerbanks, at the Neuse River Basin.  A younger me might have been in a hurry to get there, do the observation, get home, get work done.  The older me relishes these quiet moments of solace, where I am just alone with my thoughts and something beautiful to enjoy. 

As a musician, I find myself getting lost in the sounds...able to block out everything else busy in my mind and just enjoy the music.  Not worry about the score, or how I am hearing the piece, or what I am hearing or not hearing, and if I am musician enough to make competent decisions...but to simply enjoy the music.  What a gift to finally feel free to enjoy what I love most, unconditionally, in spite of my training!

And I think it has allowed me to enjoy my family more.  My husband's bad habits (and mind you, he would say the same of me) no longer bother me, and instead I see the wonderful little things he does to show me he cares everyday.  I try to make sure I stop and really look at him when we spend time together at the end of the day, and listen as carefully as I can.  What did I discover? Living in the moment with my husband makes me feel incredibly lucky I married him.

Then there are those babies.  The ones that first stopped time for me so long ago - now all grown-up!  What incredible human beings they are.  We speak of them as our best work in life.  If we did NOTHING more in life than raise them, I know all is well with my soul!  I feel I was meant to have these incredible people to raise - and so fortunate to have guided them through childhood.  I can't begin to express how I treasure each and every interaction, enjoying who they are, what they have to say, how they think.  Folks tell you to enjoy each moment when your kids are young, because it passes so quickly.  And it does! But enjoying it was difficult in the cacophony of young adulthood.  I believe that is why you get grandchildren...a second chance to live in the moment of a child without the pressures of being a parent!

Maybe that is the answer.  Perhaps with age comes acceptance of the human condition, and that allows you to truly feel and express unconditional love. And that in turn, allows us to live more fully in the moment. I know being older isn't perfect, but it certainly is much better than the alternative, right? And though everything is not the sun rising over the edge of the world, it is pretty darn great to be able to recognize and live in that moment.

Rhythms, Dissonance, and Seat Belts

What do rhythms, dissonance, and seat belts have in common?  I use these to describe what it is like to take on a new activity.  Or an extension of an old one.  I'm using these to talk about what it feels like to be new someplace.  I mean the kind of new when you have been here long enough for folks to know your face or name, but haven't quite been absorbed into the fabric and rhythms of the place, the job, or the community.  This isn't a bad thing - it just is what it is.  Only nobody ever really talks about what that is like.  The excitement or feeling of fulfillment one can have.  Or why it can feel a bit empty or lonely.

I have been thinking about this more just because I know my student teachers are having an experience close to this one right now.  They are in new schools, and will go to yet another new position in 5 or 10 weeks.  They are expected to jump right in, communicate with their on-site educators and their university supervisors, all while completing their electronic portfolios and being responsible to the university as students. And let's not forget, they are performing teaching duties during all of this.  If that doesn't cause some bifurcated identity issues, I don't think I know what would!  So part of my job, as I see it, is to point out the dissonance in what they are experiencing and help them adjust to whatever the rhythm their brand of dissonance presents.  Which means sometimes you will be in-sync with the world around you and other days, well, not so much.

I suddenly realized, after my second conversation on a Saturday with a slightly confused senior music major, that I could honestly relate to their sense of disequilibrium.  I float in and out of that space myself quite often to be honest!  I am upfront with my colleagues, and tease about my situation quite often. Just Wednesday, one said, "On cue?" and I said, "I HATE being new!" And though there are so many great things about coming to a new place, once the shine becomes a bit familiar, the large amount of information that still needs to be digested by the newcomer becomes indigestion at times!

For example, I was sitting in a meeting this week and three times had to ask what in the heck we were discussing. There were so many acronyms being thrown around, I couldn't quite keep up with the conversation. Once I asked about the acronyms, I missed the important part of the sentence. Only without knowing the acronym, I couldn't possibly understand what that important part was!  I figure I only got about half of what was discussed during the meeting.  Maybe that is a good thing, but somehow it simply makes me feel a bit more like I am standing in the fringe.

Another example was a training session.  I was trying to get some help on the front side of some technology work.  But the trainer said, "What questions do you have?" and all I could say was, "I don't know! I won't know until I sit down and don't know WHAT IT IS I don't know!" You know? In other words, sometimes it is only the direct application and experience that can bring you to the knowledge you need to create for yourself.

In academia, much like teaching music in the public schools, you are isolated in your classroom.  Unlike public school teaching, it isn't that my time is scheduled for me with passing periods and a specific lunchtime, but that I must schedule my time in a way to get everything done.  There is an assumption that coming through a doctoral program and entering the profession as a music teacher educator you know how to do that.  I didn't have a real cohort of people I came through a program with, so I am never really sure if I am doing things well or not well enough.  I watched my professors, I have asked lots of questions, and I have a sense of what I should do.  Or are my standards too high for now? Am I doing what I should be so they will keep me?  Am I working too hard or hardly enough? What is 20% of my time? What is 60% of my time? How do I figure out what MY time begins and the JOB time ends?  Are my experiences bringing me to any direct application of what I need to be doing? Or am I floundering around looking busy, only the busy-ness doesn't really matter?

At this point in time, it just feels to me that everyone (and I do mean the larger society of music teacher educators, everyone) seems to have a rhythm to going to conferences, teaching, writing, publishing, organizing their days, or the like. The sense is that I don't fit into that rhythm, and I don't know how to find it.  Having been through three public school teaching jobs, and then the big change back to school, and this last one into a new job, I realize that is a very normal part of adjusting.  I feel out-of-sync because I don't have a clue what in-sync might feel like.  Since nobody is harrumphing at me yet, I can only assume it appears I am in-sync with my colleagues and that I will figure all of this out.  Figuring it out is a lonely place at times.

Which brings me back to my student teachers.

Not only have they left the only thing they have ever known (being a student), they are immersed in the deep waters of teaching for the first time.  They may feel alone because they physically are separated from everyone and everything that is familiar or they may feel stress about living among different people and being away from campus and the professors who are still demanding work from them.  I wish I could tell them it gets better or that it will be okay.  It is normal. It doesn't get better, I suppose, it is just different.  And the transition from university to job to master teacher is an even longer and more arduous task for each of us personally.  Each change will bring those feelings back, and cause dissonance that brings further growth and development.  The good news is as we construct new knowledge about where we are now, it can inform both past, present and future!  Not having these experiences can cause stagnation, as we stop having to construct new ideas, new perspectives - new parts to who we are as people.

The path to constructing who we are is a bumpy ride.  I plan to fasten my own seat belt, and do the same for my student teachers, as we grow through the rest of the semester together!

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!