Things I Want to Remember This School Year...

Emerson Oliver, District 1 Chair

At the start of the school year, I have the same thought annually.  “I think I forgot how to teach.”  I don’t know why, but it happens every single year.  And then the children show up, and everything is fine and all of the knowledge comes rushing back.  For me and for a lot of people, the beginning of the school year is a potent time of both anxiety and looking ahead.

As I’m in the process of remembering how to teach, and looking toward shaping the coming school year, here are some things I want to remember:

1. Music Class is for Everyone

The outgoing kids.  The shy kids.  The kids with disabilities.  The emerging bi and tri-lingual kids, who are still working on English.  The kids who have been my students for years.  The kids who are brand new this year.  The kids who have overwhelming things going on in other parts of their lives.  The kids who don’t share my cultural background.  The kids who live and breathe music, and the kids who are disappointed they aren’t at PE.  Every single one of the children who walk through my door deserve a high-quality music education, and that only happens if I plan and teach with ALL of the needs of my students in mind.

2. It’s Not About Me

The child who screamed and threw an instrument on the floor?  Not about me - she’s still learning how to make good choices when she feels big feelings.

The colleague who asked if I get paid the same as the “real teachers”?  Not about me - he’s overwhelmed by his own job, and doesn’t see the layers of complexity and skill to what I do.

The kid who missed months of rehearsal, and shows up at dress rehearsal wanting to be in the concert?  Not about me - he’s still learning the importance of practice and commitment, and my job is to help him learn that.

When I don’t take the actions of others personally, it becomes so much easier to respond from a place of patience and care.  And that’s not only the kind of teacher I want to be, it’s how I want to move through the world in all areas of my life.

3. Continuous Improvement is the Only Way to Get Better

At the end of a day where children ran around my room instead of doing a folk dance, a different class had a mallet sword fight instead of playing the barred instruments, a parent was upset about their kid’s role in the musical, and my administrator came asking why my blood borne pathogens training isn’t done yet… at the end of that day, I have two choices.

I could get frustrated.  I’m doing everything I know how to do, no one is happy, this job is impossible, and everyone wants too much of me.  I can get defensive, and think to myself that I’m doing everything right, these children are just bad and don’t want to learn, and no one in my community values me.

Or, I can take some space to regulate, and then find something I can try tomorrow.  It probably won’t be big - some small change I can make, to see if it will make something just a little better.  

I could call up a colleague and ask how they structure their folk dances.  I could try reteaching barred instrument procedures from the beginning.  I could ask some other teachers to be an “audition panel” for the musical next year, and clarify the language around casting in my send-home packet.  (I don’t know how to spin the blood borne pathogens training; I’m pretty sure I’m going to have to listen to someone tell me “if it came out of a kid, don’t touch it” until I’m dead.)  

If I’m not sure where to start, I can call up a colleague and ask them to help me troubleshoot - and if you’re not sure who to call, FEMEA has lots of resources to help you get connected.

4. I Can’t Do This Job Alone

At my school, I am the sole adult in charge of the music education of about 680 children.  I run 7 different before/after school clubs, and before school has started I’m already in the process of planning 3 field trips.  I have to continually navigate interpersonal politics, with both adults and children, and through all of it try to teach something musical to the children.

I write grants, I create and manage paperwork, I communicate with families, I respond to behavior crises, I repair instruments, I write curriculum, I teach self-regulation, I plan events, I hand noise makers to children… the list goes on.

Really, that should be the job of about 5 people, which means that it’s wildly unrealistic to think I can do it all on my own.  

I need the art teacher next door, who helps me figure out how to talk to admin and upset families.  I need my music teacher friends, who will help me solve classroom management puzzles and give me inspiration (or a kick in the pants) when I need it.  I need the technology specialist, who sets up risers and sound equipment for me.  I need my student leaders, and the PTA, and my local Orff chapter, and the grade level teachers, and the speech and occupational therapists… again, the list goes on.  

I also need to say no when, even with that combination of people, a new opportunity isn’t going to serve me or my students, because I don’t have enough hours in the day.

Conclusion

So much of what happens at my school is outside of my control.  District and school policies, what happened earlier in a kid's day, the classroom management style of my colleagues… I may have some influence, but ultimately many things are out of my hands.  It's up to me to see which things are within my control, and use that power to transform my teaching world for the better.