Skip to main content

A View From the Audience

I'm pretty bad at actually *taking* a compliment.

As a music teacher, I'm complimented after each performance by smiling parents and families:
"You do such amazing things with the kids."
"This is the best performance I've ever seen."
"Thank you for everything you do with the kids. They love you."

Nearly always, I duck my head, mutter thanks, and say something about how it's all the kids. Not because I'm modest (because I'm really not) but because it felt like what you're supposed to say after a program. Some part of me knew it was genuine, but honestly, by the time the show was over, I was tired and wanted to clean up and go home and enjoy some silence. I needed time to process. Time to see past the mistakes, the things we'd worked on over and over but never quite nailed, to see the performance as a whole.

I'd never really seen a performance as a whole until last week.



My son's first grade program was Wednesday. I was the mom in the bleachers, watching the kids rather than analyzing the performance.  I teared up at them all singing together. I swelled with pride as they sang a round (With kazoos! Three parts!) I laughed and snorted at the super-silly finale. I didn't notice a single mistake - not because there weren't any, but because of the joy we were sharing through music. LP and his friends were singing and dancing and playing instruments together, and we as an audience were lucky enough to be invited.

And the very first thing I did was tell his music teacher how much I loved the program. I thanked her for doing such great work with the kids. I told her all the things that parents rush up and tell me after every show - and I meant them.

Just the way parents mean them when they tell me.

There's a lot of perspective that comes with being a teacher and a parent. Most of it changes the way you do things in subtle ways, but seeing exactly what you do from an outside point of view is transformative. Now I know what every parent who has ever taken the time to compliment me feels. I'm sorry that I cynically brushed that aside, or even belittled it in the slightest way. That person was experiencing the power of music - created by someone they love - and was thanking me for the opportunity. That's a huge thing. A huge thing that I'll take the time to truly acknowledge from now on.

My job is important. I've always known and respected that. But now I know how much it truly means to other people - and that's a compliment I'm going to relish each time I earn it.



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Hands on top...*

This whole post might be off, but I don't think so. | Source  Everyone has a Thing in education they just can't abide. I've worked with teachers who disagree with numbering students or allowing bathroom breaks outside of lunch and recess. There's the much maligned clip chart. I personally lose my stuffing when teachers keep students out of Music because they're missing work in class. But there's something else that's creeping up right behind that as my number one classroom no-no. Attention Getters. You know, the Power Teaching "Class" - "Yes" or the sing-songy call and response, "One, two, three. Eyes on me!" - "One, two, eyes on you!" There's a million of them, as many as there are really great teachers who use them. I certainly don't want to disparage the teachers who rely on them. Teachers use what works for them, and we're all individuals, right? Well, yes. Of course. But my problem is t...

A List That Actually Matters

I sort of wanted to give this post a cutesy title, like "My Edu-Valentines," but I'm incredibly serious about this. Yesterday, two of my favorite people on the planet, people I like and admire, were included in an exceedingly disappointing list of inspirational educators . (excuse me, "educationists.") They were both livid. As they should have been. The list was lily white and lacking women. Most of the people were not actually  teachers - which you know, makes them a lot less inspirational to those of us who spend our days surrounded with the bright future of the world. AND THEN, after being called out for the poor quality of the list, the author - who is not a teacher, but a "blogger and digital marketing biz" person and moderator of #GuruChats - about branding (of which I have  many thoughts ) - asked for suggestions to improve it. Okay, the first one is do your homework, don't run an algorithm. But then I took a couple of moments to sc...

Fuhgeddaboudit

I tweeted earlier "I think my biggest fear is amnesia." All joking aside (and obviously, all the replies were  jokes) - forgetting is terrifying to me. I'm reading What Alice Forgot  by Liane Moriarty, about a woman who wakes up from a fall and can't remember the last decade of her life. When she wakes, she feels like herself from 10 years ago, but around her, everything has changed. I've spent the first quarter of the book in fairly frantic tears, my chest tight. I don't want to forget. I NEVER want to forget what has happened to me - none of it. Good or bad. I can't imagine what it would be like to see a dear friend and not know them. To not be able to share a joke or a knowing look. In the story, the main character even forgets her children . She wakes up and is a stranger in her own life. I feel like it hits close to home, not just because I am a visceral reader, (I have some of the worst book hangovers you can imagine.) but because someone near ...