Ah, the delights of a junior high at the approach of Christmas.
Grading semester exams.
Starbucks gift cards and handwritten letters.
PTA lunches that make you drowsy the rest of the day.
And sometimes a moment of clarity and beauty that catches you as you round the corner headed for your classroom in the morning--not expecting a rush and swell of blaring trumpets a crunch of drums a shimmer of violins.
This time of year, the jing-jing-jing of jingle bells.
This week and last, the orchestra, the band, and the choir have taken turns to regale passersby with holiday music at the entrance to the main hallway. Don't know how long they've been rehearsing but there have been emails directing teachers to send various combinations of students to rehearsal rooms for all month long.
The kids are FANTASTIC.
McMeans Junior High has a spectacular fine arts program. For the same reasons that some sports teams build long-lasting dynasties. A seasoned and motivating coaching program inspires talented recruits to achieve excellent results year after year.
One of the constant adjustments of teaching is avoiding reductionism. Day in and day out, a diligent focus on instruction and results can result in tunnel vision. English teachers can forget that students also apply themselves in math and science, or math teachers that their pupils may be gifted in shop or history. We forget that these are not just students taking one class--our class.
They are rounded individuals with complete personalities and distinct skills. To realize that the kid who struggles with the seven principles of government can saw out a pizzicato on a violin or that one who cannot determine when to use their-there-they're can hit a high note with precision and depth of feeling is nothing short of illuminating. A most welcome reminder that we are all of us complicated complex multilayer limitless and transcendent.
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As I hang around in the hallway to the rousing strains of timeless classics, my daily classroom setup pushed to the back burner, I notice the growing crowd of teachers and staff around me. And I notice that the ones who stay the longest are the veterans.
Maybe the more you teach, the more you realize that these rousing instances of beauty and glory that burst forth from a grey December morning are precious beyond measure. And more's the acclaim when such artistry burts forth.
Dazzling and impassioned....
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So will I be back there every morning this week, to soak up the music and to close my eyes in sweet transport and glow with reflected pride at what these children have shown us?
You bet I will.
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