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!

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.