Yesterday I vowed to keep a list of positives throughout the day today in hopes of helping my mood and focus. Well…I have a list. It took me until lunch time to actually start writing anything down, but by the end of the day my list covered both sides of a post-it note.
Cooler weather
Students positive responses to having a choice between whiteboards and popsicle sticks for writing or constructing their rhythmic patterns.
Hearing, “I got it right!”
Receiving three books from students off of my book fair list.
Unplanned, improvised “singing” of one of those books.
A student who has severe anxiety, always sits alone and doesn’t speak to me, accepted a music stamp on his hand when leaving class today.
Was it a perfect day? No-there’s no such thing. But was it a good day? Yes. And even though I may not be able to use my mood as an indicator for the success of the day, I can look back on my list and be reminded of the things that were good. Funny thing is, almost all the items are things over which I have little or no control.
So what do I have control over? Continuing to look for the positive. My responses to the people and situations I encounter. Loving my family, friends, and students.
Any guesses which book I sang today? It was super fun!
Time for confession-I am struggling this week. Low days, fighting back tears, just the general blahs. It will pass, I’m sure. When this happens, thankfully I’ve learned to recognize it and say it out loud. If it lasts longer than a week, there’s a need to talk with a trusted friend or family member.
All that to say-I found myself searching for the positive on my drive home from school today. The sun was shining, the sky a beautiful blue with perfect, fluffy, floating clouds. Besides blue being my favorite color, I’ve always been fascinated with the sky and its inhabitants. Seeing one like this today most definitely helped my mood.
Once my attitude began to change, I remembered kindergarten class from earlier today. We’ve been learning about rhythmic patterns while going on our adventures with Freddie the Frog. Today was review time and students were creating patterns on the Smart Board. Their ability to not only create a pattern but also read it out loud was a pleasant surprise.
Each of them was eager to give it a try-all twenty of them-at the same time. Suddenly I remembered the popsicle stick basket. First and second graders had used them the day before to create patterns on the carpet. I hadn’t planned on using them with kindergarten just yet.
Change of plans! I asked the kiddos to move to our circle and gave each a hand full of popsicle sticks-rhythmic patterns began to appear everywhere! Once we cleaned up, I asked students to brainstorm ways they could do this activity at home if they didn’t have popsicle sticks. Crayons! Pencils! Markers! Legos! And on and on and on…one mentioned writing down their patterns. Impressive!
Encouraged by the success of my kindergartners, I decided to attempt the activity I had asked them to try at home. Here are my results.
Goal for tomorrow-begin my day looking for the positive. Will I be successful? I don’t know. But hopefully I will remember that the simplestthings can change my day for the better-even popsicle sticks and clouds.
Returned from a long weekend workshop to a not-so-great report from one of my classes…a fifth grade class. You know, the ones who are supposed to be my leaders. If there was any class to be concerned about, this would not have been the one I’d pick. I was disappointed to say the least. So the first day back started with a heart to heart chat.
While expressing my sadness over their actions and some missing candy, I knew the tears were going to start-mine, not theirs. A few of them did join in after a few minutes. My purpose in confronting the students was not to make them feel bad. It was about giving them a chance to make a good choice and be honest about what happened while I was gone.
We all make poor choices sometimes. All of us-no exceptions. And even though it’s difficult, admitting those mistakes brings growth and freedom. My students had the chance to make things right, and I’m proud to say almost all of them rose to the challenge.
Reading their apology notes later in the day, I once again found myself getting choked up. There were sweet assurances of their love and appreciation-covered in hearts and music notes, of course. For some, the realization and acknowledgement they had not fulfilled leadership roles. But the one that touched me the most-“I’m so sorry that I made you feel sad.” Wow.
Just as with my own children, I work hard to get my students to think about how their behaviors affect other people. Or how they would feel being on the receiving end of an unkind word or action. Today I learned that I must keep teaching those lessons. They really do listen! And when given the chance-make the right choice. A choice with the power to encourage this teacher to keep teaching.
Fast forward…the next morning at school (day after our little chat) one sweet student said, “My brother and I have something for you.” An entire bag of candy to replace what had “disappeared” while I was away. The amazing thing is their mom would have had no way of knowing what happened unless they went home and shared. It may seem like a small gesture to some, but for me…the best gift I could have possibly received.
Here’s to teaching! The lessons we impart, but more importantly the ones we learn along the way.
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.
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
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.
Piano Girl 