It’s my 32nd year of teaching, so this shouldn’t have been a big deal. I’ve been through dozens of these and had no reason to believe this would be any different other than the fact that it was taking place online due to the pandemic.
Mr. Peters and I met on Zoom, and after exchanging pleasantries, he screen-shared my evaluation form.
There on page six he had a running narrative of what was going on in the classroom:
- T askes Ss to raise their hands if they had a trill at the end.
- T: …We don’t breathe before the deedle-eedle-eet – that would sound silly… I want you to hear the melody and realize how hard it is at this speed, because they have to take in gigantic amounts of air in…
- T: Keeping a beautiful tone at all times, you’re doing a nice job keeping long phrases – keep doing that.
- T stopped Ss playing just after a measure.
- T: I’m going to show you what I heard and then I’m going to show you what I want.
- T demonstrated the measure using the piano, tune with different fingers coming in at slightly different times vs. all simultaneously. Told Ss to “Lock in even better… nice and together.” Acknowledged when she heard the improvement she was looking for.
- S took responsibility – “I know what I did.” T thanked him, moved on.
- T: I loved that we didn’t all start our articulations the same and that you eventually came together!
As he scrolled through a couple more pages of that narrative, I saw in front of me what an ordinary day used to be like in the band room at our school. Oh, the things I took for granted.
I was reminded of the sense of accomplishment we’d feel when we’d woodshed a passage and finally master it. Or the wave of emotion that would sweep over all of us when we’d executed a passage with exceptional passion. Or the simple thrill of watching that third clarinet player finally get over the break without alarming the rest of the band with horrible squeaking.
All of the seemingly ordinary things we did every single day at school seem so much more significant now that we have been away from our kids for a couple of months. I long for the days when we could high-five ’em as they walked in our classrooms and then settle them in for 55 minutes of music and memory-making.
As I read the narrative of what happened in my classroom during wind ensemble on that ordinary day in November, tears poured from my eyes as it finally sunk in just how precious that time together had been. Those days in our classrooms did so much more than just teach kids how to play songs. Through the process of developing as musicians, I watched them grow up. I watched them overcome personal struggles and challenges. I grew to love them not just as music students, but as humans. We’d become a family and suddenly the pain of being ripped from my band family was really raw and all I could do was cry.
I am sad for so many things that we’ve lost as a school, community, nation, and world. I worry about the future of everything from education to survival and more. And I wonder how I can continue to be a band director and serve my students in a post-pandemic world.
I don’t have all the answers, but I know it’s up to me to do a few things:
- Identify the core values and concepts I am charged with teaching my students
- Figure out how to deliver that content in a safe and meaningful way
- Implement strategies that will help me sustain my own mental and physical health so I can support my students for the long-haul
If you are a music teacher who is looking for strategies to support the long-term survival of your music program and sustainable ways for you to balance work and family lives while you do this important work, then I invite you to do a self-assessment that can help you identify your readiness for what lies ahead. It will help you ask yourself the questions you need to face as you plan for what’s next.
We have important work to do, and I, for one, plan to be ready to serve my students in spite of the obstacles that will arise as we get closer to September. Budget cuts, loss of performance and trip opportunities, and the fear of the unknown can be crippling – but our kids are counting on us to be brave, step up, and be there for them.
Take five minutes and check-in with yourself using this self-assessment. The peace of mind that comes when you get the clarity you need to take the next step can make the difference between stepping into the next few months in fear or with purpose. I choose purpose!