Being both daughter and mom of a daughter creates a constant cycle of emotions and challenges. As a daughter, I did not truly appreciate the actions of my mom until becoming a mom myself. As a mom, I continually struggle with whether or not my parenting decisions were best for my children. It’s an unending, mixed up, beautiful circle.
There were times I certainly drove my mom crazy and surely caused her many sleepless nights. Thankfully she did not give up on me during my young adult years despite some poor choices on my part. Somehow we both survived. Although my children may not have supplied the same grief, I have experienced the worry and sleepless nights. Part of the job, I suppose.
In a recent conversation, my mom expressed some regret over some of her parenting choices-wishing she had talked more openly about certain subjects. You know the ones-uncomfortable ones we tend to avoid. Almost as if she thought my mistakes were her fault. Naturally, I reassured her that she was a great mom and that I made my own choices.
Truthfully, there comes a time when each of us is responsible for our own actions. My young adult choices were mine-good or bad, and I had to deal with their consequences. The older I become the more I understand how even those mistakes helped form this person I see in the mirror. Yes, they brought guilt and sorrow, but also allowed me to encounter life-changing forgiveness and grace. And that affects how I relate to the people in my life.
At first, I didn’t understand why my mom felt the way she did. How could she possibly think my mistakes were her fault? Then I began to reflect on my own parenting. From that perspective, I began to understand. Our children are part of us. One of our greatest responsibilities. And in some ways, part of our reflection. We want to see the best parts of ourselves in those reflections.
As parents, we love, worry, pray, and provide-but still feel like we’re falling short. Did we encourage enough? Or too much? Was our opinion expressed too strongly? Or not strongly enough? Did we efficiently equip our children to make good decisions? On the one hand feeling responsible for our children’s mistakes, on the other acknowledging our parents are not responsible for ours. Certainly a contradiction of ideas.
Logical or not, this crazy cycle goes on and on. Is this cause for concern? Something we need to change? I would argue no. This is the parent/child circle. You can’t be a parent without first being a child. You can’t be a child without first having a parent. Sounds simple, but it is beautifully complicated. As a parent I would say it is worth the worry and sleepless nights. And maybe if I stop to remember what it was like to be a child, I won’t be quite so hard on myself as a parent.
Growing up, giving directions to my house was always interesting. It went something like this…”Drive past the Natural Steps sign and Moreland’s Grocery Store, go around a sharp curve, over a hill, then you’ll see a straight stretch of road. Right at the end of the straight stretch, turn left onto Mahar Road.” Mahar is my mom’s maiden name, hence the name of the road.
My husband likes to tell people that I grew up in a commune, but that is not the case. The quarter of a mile road, lined with trees on both sides, dead ends into a wide-open valley. My grandparent’s house was in the center, surrounded by several homes belonging to my aunts, uncles, and my parents. Huge oaks, towering pines, and grassy fields provided plenty of room for kids to run and play.
That’s where I spent my childhood-riding bikes, digging in the dirt, playing kickball and basketball with my cousins. And since my mom had six sisters and two brothers, there were always cousins around. They say I made them listen to me practice piano and violin…well, maybe a few times. But most of the time, we were outside. Distinct memories include singing at the top of my lungs while riding bicycles, trying to fool my uncle with mud pies, and playing “King of the Mountain” on Grandma’s front porch.
Almost thirty-three years have passed since I lived on Mahar Road. Even while typing I think surely that can’t be correct! Oh, but it is…despite the years gone by and having a family of my own, I still refer to this special place as home. I’m thankful to have grown up there-carefree, no worries about safety, room to let our imaginations run wild.
Of course, things have changed since I was a child. My grandparents are no longer living, cousins are all grown and many, just like me, have moved away. That doesn’t matter. Simply driving the route that leads to home causes any anxiety to melt away. My brain slows down, my body relaxes, and while there I truly rest. Sometimes I even feel like a kid again.
Thinking about my childhood reminds me that home is so much more than a house. It’s the people, the places, the memories. And sometimes…you just need to go home.
Morning car duty, the day after our first elementary choir rehearsal, one of my favorite fourth graders hopped out of his car with a big smile. Running over he gave me a big hug and chimed, “Choir was so much fun yesterday! I told my mom and dad that you almost cried when we sang Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.” A tad embarrassing but he was right-I did get a little teary.
Same day-first hour-fifth grade. I showed students one of the new puppets I had ordered for my younger classes. Just delivered and so cute! The students smiled and I heard some awwws-that’s all it took. I began telling them how much the little kids love the puppets and how I wished I’d had puppets when they were in kindergarten and first grade.
A fifth grade boy spoke up, “Mrs. Morris, I’ve never seen an adult so excited about puppets before!” Well, guess what? I soon had twenty-something fifth graders asking to play with puppets. Of course I said yes.
What a sight! The biggest kiddos in the school using the cutest animal hand puppets, singing along to Carrie Underwood’s The Champion. Priceless!
Then it hit me! The enthusiasm of a fourth grade boy had been contagious.
There was a positive attitude domino effect at work. This cycle continued for most of the day, the most encouraged I’ve felt about my teaching so far this year. Don’t misunderstand, not all days work this way. I’m not attempting to paint a “perfect harmony little cherubs singing” portrait. Nor am I anywhere close to being Julie Andrews in the Sound of Music.
Truthfully, it took the excitement of a student to adjust my attitude. And if this one student has the power to do that for me, how many students and colleagues should I be able to influence?
Attitudes are contagious. And I can either spread one that is positive and encouraging or one that is negative and frustrating. Here’s to having an attitude others want to catch, not one they try to avoid.
Music has the ability to both unify and separate. Think about it-how many times has one single song been used to represent and bring unity to a social movement? “We Shall Overcome” & “We are the World” immediately come to mind. The opposite is also true. History tells us of music such as Stravinsky’s “Rite of Spring” causing rioting in the streets of Paris during its debut.
What causes these polar opposite occurrences? Opinions! We all have plenty of those. What we like and don’t like. What we think sounds good or sounds bad. Oh, how we love to share, myself included. The problems occur when respect is absent from the sharing of said opinions.
At the beginning of the school year, I have discussions with my students concerning music and respect. After listing many different styles of music, students have the opportunity to share their favorite. I remind them that we always show respect for our friends opinions. We also talk about how boring it would be to hear the same music all the time, and the importance of giving something new a chance.
As I considered this respectful sharing of opinions, my thoughts moved from the classroom to the church. There is definitely a wide variety of styles and opinions concerning music in this realm. Having played piano in church since I was a little girl, I have experienced these styles and opinions on many occasions.
Hymns such as “Amazing Grace” and “What a Friend We have in Jesus” immediately take me back to my childhood. They provided a strong foundation for expressing my faith. As a teen I remember playing and singing the chorus “Pass it On” and listening to Keith Green’s “Songs for the Shepherd.” There was truth and power in this new style of song. Although different from the hymns, their meanings were the same. As an adult, songs such as “I Can Only Imagine” by Mercy Me and “Praise You in this Storm” by Casting Crowns provided comfort and reassurance during difficult times of grief when I questioned my faith.
Sadly, I have also witnessed the polarizing effect music can have in the church. As some choose to dig their heels in for tradition, unwilling to consider anything new, the result is often a weakened message. On the opposite side, others become so engulfed with constantly seeking something new, the message doesn’t have time to sink in or provide the intended encouragement.
So what’s my conclusion? Personally, I find security and strength in the old, while experiencing comfort and renewed energy in the new. I believe there’s room for both. But those are my opinions. If I lose focus, forgetting the reason for the music, then my opinions really don’t matter. Truthfully, in this situation I’m not sure they really matter anyway.
“Sing to the Lord a new song; sing to the Lord, all the earth.” Psalm 96:1
“…speak to one another with psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit. Sing and make music from your heart to the Lord, always giving thanks to God…” Ephesians 5:19-20
If the words “Elementary Choir” cause you feelings of anxiety, welcome to my world! I’m teasing, mostly, but I do find it challenging. Choir was part of my high school and college life, but most of the time I ended up behind the piano. That is where I’m most comfortable. I’ve never felt as confident with my singing, hence my hesitation with directing a choir.
Today was the first day of after-school choir. We meet once-a-week for about forty-five minutes. In case you’re wondering, that’s a long time to keep twenty-five 4th and 5th graders engaged and singing, especially after a full day of school. We are all tired, and ready for a snack and a nap. Well, I’m ready for a nap. Not to mention being hot and sweaty from afternoon car duty…
As I walked back to my classroom to begin practice, I could hear kids saying, “Here she comes!” And it wasn’t a “better stop what you’re doing” warning. It was more of a “Yay! It’s time for choir” comment. The room was buzzing with energy and excitement. Students helped set up chairs and everyone was seated quickly, ready to start. I went to the piano and asked them to sing a simple song for me. There was a risk they would consider my request babyish, but I needed to hear how they sounded.
“Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” has never sounded so glorious! I am not exaggerating! Not only were their voices sweet and light, I could tell they really loved to sing. My smile could not have been any wider. After some up and down “ah-ah-ah” and “ha-ha-ha” vocal warm-ups, I asked them to fill out a short choir survey. I’ll get back to that shortly.
After the survey we learned the first part of our choir theme song, “Friend Like You.” One of the verses says, “I know with friends like you, friends that I can talk to, we can take on the world. There’s nothing we can’t do.” So simple, yet so powerful. And once again, their sweet voices singing this timely message made my heart happy.
We wrapped up practice, everyone went home, and I packed up my computer. Oh, and those choir surveys as well. Once home, I decided to read them. Oh my goodness…their answers. Most said they love to sing and want to sing better. Some admitted being shy or embarrassed. And then there was this…”I sing to my siblings at bedtime.” Remember, we are talking about 4th and 5th graders. I can’t imagine anything more precious.
Today changed my outlook for choir. This self-described awesome group of kiddos-who just want to hang out with their friends and sing-encouraged this exhausted, in-search-of-motivation teacher. Because of their attitudes, I find myself looking forward to next week. I will listen to those sweet voices, and teach them the rest of our theme song. Hopefully their enthusiasm will spill over, giving this tired teacher renewed energy.
Maybe elementary choir is not so elementary after all.
Clouds are fascinating. Since I was a little girl, they always captured my attention. Maybe it’s the sky in general. After all, blue is my favorite color, especially when in contrast with white, fluffy clouds. When I was younger, a variety of images would easily appear in the clouds. Now finding the pictures is more of a challenge to my imagination. Oh, I still look, but there is a certain amount of effort required.
These days I tend to notice the many different types and combinations of clouds. I love how they paint the sky in layers, with contrasting colors and motion, sometimes allowing small patches of blue to appear in the background. These paintings don’t last long, morphing with the blowing wind. Photos rarely capture their true beauty. Paintings may come close, but part of the beauty is in the movement, the gradual changes.
In many ways, life can be like those layers of clouds. Sometimes it’s the grey, swirly ones that get our attention. How will we face the coming storm? Those sheets of rain off in the distance? Then we see the still, almost motionless layers underneath providing calm. The storm is not erased, but the ability to get through becomes visible. If we continue watching, witnessing the continuous changes, that patch of blue or ray of sunlight will soon appear.
Hopefully we also experience those fluffy cloud days, light and ordinary. Nothing unexpected, time to rest in moments of shade. Or the wispy, almost laughing clouds, reminding us of a funny story or memory. That kind of memory that makes us smile. Those are the days that revive us, giving strength for when the storm clouds reappear. We know they will return, that is life.
Although I may never be able to capture the beauty of those clouds blanketing the sky, I will keep looking. Watching for those moments of light and color to break through. Reminded that life continues, moving with the swirls, through the storms, to the calm.
What is a champion? The word often brings thoughts of athletes, winning the ultimate game. Webster’s definition includes warrior, fighter, defender, one fighting for the rights of others, and lastly the winner of a competition. Although I like the order of those descriptions, there is much more to this idea of being a champion. Or at least there should be…
Do I think of myself as being a champion in my role as wife? Mom? Teacher? Friend? Truthfully, no. But what if I did? After all, each role is important and has the power to influence and encourage my family, friends, students, and community. What if I consistently worked hard at improving my skills in each role?
The official music video for Carrie Underwood’s song “The Champion” (feat. Ludacris) does a beautiful job of expressing the broadness of this word. Included in the lyrics are invincible, unstoppable, unshakable-mixed with images of hard work, honesty, integrity, and sacrifice. People from all walks of life, facing every kind of challenge imaginable, working hard, persevering.
I love watching my students’ reactions to this video. Of course, the song is energetic and exciting. They love to sing along. When I ask what people they notice, the answers are all over the place-football player, swimmer, surfer, soldier, someone with cancer, a person with prosthetic legs-you get the idea.
What they don’t usually notice, however, are the students, teachers, parents-doing everyday things. They are students. As I like to remind them, doing school is their job. But do they consider themselves champions in that role of being a student? This is not a naturally occurring thought for them-or for us as parents and teachers either I’m afraid…
It’s never too late for a new mindset, right?
So where to begin? The answer will be different for each of us. For me personally, maintaining motivation is a constant struggle. Lack of sleep, feeling tired, possibly getting sick-anxiety levels begin to rise leading quickly to negative thoughts-I don’t think I can keep doing this, am I a good teacher, have I been a good mom-a rapid, downward spiral pulls me away from the much-needed motivation.
Sometimes the spiral slows with a prayer, a deep breath, a confession of feelings to a trusted friend. Other times it requires tears, and possibly a nap. Thoughts begin to refocus. A successful lesson, an encouraging word from a colleague, and a reminder that what I do has value, and therefore requires hard work.
Eventually, the search for motivation begins all over again, and I look for ways to make changes and improvements in my chosen roles. And who knows? Maybe there will be that moment where I feel like a champion.
Even better–maybe someone who crosses my path will feel like a champion.
Teachers love the word plan. Lesson plans, sub plans, plan time-each have an important place in our school days, weeks, months, years…sometimes our bests laid plans go awry. Then there are those rare moments when the simplest of plans exceed our expectations.
This was one of those days.
Freddie the Frog and his adventures on Treble Clef Island are breathing new life into my K-2nd grade classes. (See earlier post-The Innocence of Imagination.) The plan for today sounded simple, and came with very little explanation. I was actually nervous that I hadn’t added something, afraid it wouldn’t take enough time. Students were going to learn how to create stories using barred instruments such as xylophones by having the story characters, Freddie and his elephant friend Eli, talk back and forth to each other.
Let me just say, having kindergartners play xylophones can be a daunting task. Imagine twenty-something of them having to wait their turn, holding mallets, making sure the mallets only touch the instruments…enough said. But I really have to brag on them. They did such a great job!
We brainstormed before moving to instruments, creating conversations between Freddie and Eli. Everything from “Do you want to play?” “Yes I do!” to “Would you like some waffles?” “That sounds great!” Each class came up with at least four different question/answer phrases, their very own ideas. I spoke the words in rhythm, they echoed, then we repeated the activity on the instruments.
We played, we laughed, we created…I was both energized and exhausted all at the same time. My plan is to do it again tomorrow with a different set of kiddos. Will it work exactly the same? Possibly, but probably not. And that’s okay. Tomorrow is a new day.
Piano Girl 