This week, I made a bucket list of 50 things I want to do before I die. It was quite revealing. I learned a lot about myself. I realized that the thing I have always wanted to do in my life is to make people happy through music. For many years now I have had in the back of my mind to write a musical history of the United states and to write a Christmas program with songs and spoken words. Then I want to direct the programs or perform in it. I want to teach the history of music in the U.S. I also want to help others find the music inside of them and let their light, their unique voice, shine.
So, I have looked for music schools in the area and I am getting ready to apply to teach at one of them. However, I am afraid because I am the only person in the family bringing in sufficient income to meet our basic needs right now. If I quit my present full time job, I will probably only work part time for less money per hour.
I guess this is where the principle of risk comes in. If I follow my heart, it may be a risk. However, if I take that risk, like Steven Hitz discusses in his book,The MInistry of Business, I will be taking the first step toward fulfilling my unique mission on earth. I am scared. Perhaps the Lord is waiting for me to take that leap of faith. Maybe if I do, my spouse will finally get his dream job as well, and we will be on our way to financial independence and joy because we are being true to ourselves..
Thursday, September 22, 2016
Sunday, September 18, 2016
A Nature Walk and a Story
It was a beautiful Fall day. I was subbing
for the DEAR teacher for 4-6 graders. My
first assignment was 5th grade science inclusion for three energetic
young ladies. The regular class was learning
about tree rings and sedimentary layers. Because the elementary school sat on the
edge of a nature preserve, the class spent part of the period taking a walk
down to the creek and looking at the layers of soil above the creek. Being a
nature lover myself, I pointed out the foliage, fallen logs, and soil layers to the girls. As we rounded a curve in the trail, we noticed a tree stump
that had been turned into a seat. Of
course one of the girls wanted to sit on it. It provided rest for her tired feet.
The walk lasted maybe 20 minutes. Then
the class returned to a covered area where a group of about 5 tree stumps had been
arranged in a circle. The students were to determine the history of the tree from
the rings on the stump. My girls were engaged,
but were slow in writing their information on the sheets provided.
Later in the day, I was teaching ELA
to two of the girls I had walked with earlier. The assigned reading was a book
on unsolved mysteries such as the Loch Ness Monster, Bigfoot, and Chupacabras.
The girls were very interested in these topics. We had finished the readings
and we had some extra time. I suggested we write a story. Using that morning’s
nature walk for our setting, we wrote a story about meeting a baby Bigfoot in
the woods and helping him find his family. The stump seat figured prominently in
the story as a meeting place between us and the little Bigfoot. Because these
girls had a difficult time writing on their own, I was the scribe as they told the
story to me. They acted the story out as they told it. I asked them questions like “what happened next?”
When it was complete, they had written a
wonderful story they were very proud of.
Autistic kids can do amazing things.
These girls were able to create something amazing in a nontraditional way. If only
all educators could see the potential for greatness in children with Autism
Spectrum Disorder, and change their teaching methods so that not only these children,
but all children with active imaginations and different learning styles, could excel
in their endeavors. I look forward to the
day when these highly imaginative and intelligent students are integrated into
the mainstream of society, and are appreciated for the contributions they can
make, if given a chance.
Friday, August 12, 2016
Music, Memory, and Autism
The classroom was ready. Favorite puzzles
were laid out on the table for the five autistic kindergarten students to manipulate
until class started. Because I was a long
term substitute, I stayed in the classroom while the special education teacher and
the other aide led the students into the classroom.The children were instructed to
hang up their jackets and put their lunchboxes in their cubby. Then they came to
the table to put together their favorite puzzles.
That morning I sat next to a five-year-old
male autistic child. He was a whiz at memorizing. At only five years old, he
could write long phrases he had seen on television, such as “The Corporation
for Public Broadcasting” and he could read above level books, but he did not
interact verbally. This child could speak, but he did so only when he wanted
to. As he sat down at the puzzle
table, I gave him a wooden puzzle with slots for 6 farm animals. I tried at first to talk to him about the
animals and hoped he would repeat the animal name and its sound. It met with little
success. Then I started singing “Old
McDonald Had a Farm” as we put the animals into the proper slots. He responded.
He started singing with me, and he put my hand over his to help him put the
animals into the right slots. This continued until class started. This became
our daily routine for the next three weeks. Every time he chose that
puzzle, I would sing the song with him as he put the animals into the slots. For
a few moments, every day, for three weeks,we shared a bond through music.
Music is Life
As a child, I was always singing. I dreamed of being Maria von Trapp and making people happy with only a song. Because I loved to sing, and was good at it, my parents enrolled me in a singing workshop when I was 11. At the end of the workshop, we were to present an operetta for our families. When it was time for the operetta practices to start, I waited with hungry anticipation as the scripts were handed out, revealing our assigned role. I coveted the part of the main character who would be singing throughout the production. As I opened my script, my jaw dropped. Instead of the main character, I was to be a servant girl who had only one small solo part. I was deflated. I should have been “the star.”
This desire to be “the star” was borne from feelings of inferiority forged into my personality as a child. My father was always yelling at me. Anytime I complained, cried, made a mistake, tripped, dropped, broke something, or didn’t know the difference between the tools in his toolbox, he yelled. He would throw labels of “stupid,” “worthless,” and “good for nothing,” at me. I longed for him to accept my faults and emotions, but it didn’t happen. However, when I sang, my father lavished me with praise. This is why I needed to sing. It was the only time I was free to be me.
As a teenager, I carefully hid my emotions and feelings from him, afraid of his wrath. I suffered all the varied emotions of a teenage girl in silence. Singing was the only way I could unmask myself, and awaken the real me.
When I started college, I wanted to study music, but self-doubts from my childhood echoed, “the competition is too fierce,” and “you’ll never make the cut.” So, I chose to study Elementary Education instead of music. I convinced myself that working with children would feed my hunger for acceptance and allow my soul the freedom it craved.
I was married soon after graduation. Amidst the rearing of children and caring for home and husband, the gnawing hunger to perform was unrelenting. Haunted by the labels of my childhood, I tried to release the songs imprisoned in my soul. I hungered to be the real me, more alive and full of fun. I struggled with feelings of despair as I watched others perform, wishing to share the songs of my heart. Many times my soul cried out, “WHY?” Why did Heavenly Father give me this voice if I didn’t have any prospect of sharing it with the world?
After 7 years of marriage and a move to Texas, my hunger was subdued when I joined a performing choir in the Dallas Metroplex. I even sang oldies at a nursing home. The weekly choir practices, and monthly visits to the nursing home, brought harmony and peace to my soul. These activities became my soul’s sustenance, its lifeline,
Suddenly, the line was cut. My husband lost his job and I was pregnant with complications, forcing me into bedrest. All musical activity ceased. New employment forced us to move. My sustenance was gone.
In our new location, I begged my husband to allow me to join a Mormon choir in the area, but he refused because of the new baby, and the long commute to practices. I again stuffed my dreams deep inside, burying any hope of attaining them. I was too old to be a recording artist, too old to star in musical theater, and I was not qualified to teach music, or even give private lessons. I was starving.
After four excruciating years, we moved back to Texas. I threw myself into volunteer work and serving others, just to ignore the gnawing ache inside. But it refused to die. I couldn’t smother it, stifle it, or root it out. I decided to start substitute teaching to see if it would fill my longing.
One day, the phone rang. It was the local Elementary school.
“Would you like to substitute for two weeks in music?”
My heart raced as I answered, “YES! I would love to!”
The next day, I eagerly arrived at the classroom. I perused the lesson plans: 6th grade: practice for choir concert, 5th grade: harmonizing, 4th grade: dance to “The Bells of Dunkirk,” 3rd grade: another dance. First and second grade: play “Squirrels in the Tree,” Kindergarten: practice singing a story book set to music. My first day was thrilling. I was a child again, singing and dancing like Maria von Trapp. For those few precious moments of class time, I felt free. The music in my soul was released. Never before had I felt so energized, so happy, and fulfilled at the end of each day. I wanted to do this for the rest of my life.
It has been five years since I discovered the pure joy and sustenance that came from teaching music. I have not given up my dream to perform, even though I have yet to attain it. I now have a new dream to create a business where children, teens, and adults can learn about, and perform music. I want to give them the opportunities I missed out on, to shine, to feel alive, to dream, and to be one’s self, without fear. Maybe I will be a Maria von Trapp after all.
This desire to be “the star” was borne from feelings of inferiority forged into my personality as a child. My father was always yelling at me. Anytime I complained, cried, made a mistake, tripped, dropped, broke something, or didn’t know the difference between the tools in his toolbox, he yelled. He would throw labels of “stupid,” “worthless,” and “good for nothing,” at me. I longed for him to accept my faults and emotions, but it didn’t happen. However, when I sang, my father lavished me with praise. This is why I needed to sing. It was the only time I was free to be me.
As a teenager, I carefully hid my emotions and feelings from him, afraid of his wrath. I suffered all the varied emotions of a teenage girl in silence. Singing was the only way I could unmask myself, and awaken the real me.
When I started college, I wanted to study music, but self-doubts from my childhood echoed, “the competition is too fierce,” and “you’ll never make the cut.” So, I chose to study Elementary Education instead of music. I convinced myself that working with children would feed my hunger for acceptance and allow my soul the freedom it craved.
I was married soon after graduation. Amidst the rearing of children and caring for home and husband, the gnawing hunger to perform was unrelenting. Haunted by the labels of my childhood, I tried to release the songs imprisoned in my soul. I hungered to be the real me, more alive and full of fun. I struggled with feelings of despair as I watched others perform, wishing to share the songs of my heart. Many times my soul cried out, “WHY?” Why did Heavenly Father give me this voice if I didn’t have any prospect of sharing it with the world?
After 7 years of marriage and a move to Texas, my hunger was subdued when I joined a performing choir in the Dallas Metroplex. I even sang oldies at a nursing home. The weekly choir practices, and monthly visits to the nursing home, brought harmony and peace to my soul. These activities became my soul’s sustenance, its lifeline,
Suddenly, the line was cut. My husband lost his job and I was pregnant with complications, forcing me into bedrest. All musical activity ceased. New employment forced us to move. My sustenance was gone.
In our new location, I begged my husband to allow me to join a Mormon choir in the area, but he refused because of the new baby, and the long commute to practices. I again stuffed my dreams deep inside, burying any hope of attaining them. I was too old to be a recording artist, too old to star in musical theater, and I was not qualified to teach music, or even give private lessons. I was starving.
After four excruciating years, we moved back to Texas. I threw myself into volunteer work and serving others, just to ignore the gnawing ache inside. But it refused to die. I couldn’t smother it, stifle it, or root it out. I decided to start substitute teaching to see if it would fill my longing.
One day, the phone rang. It was the local Elementary school.
“Would you like to substitute for two weeks in music?”
My heart raced as I answered, “YES! I would love to!”
The next day, I eagerly arrived at the classroom. I perused the lesson plans: 6th grade: practice for choir concert, 5th grade: harmonizing, 4th grade: dance to “The Bells of Dunkirk,” 3rd grade: another dance. First and second grade: play “Squirrels in the Tree,” Kindergarten: practice singing a story book set to music. My first day was thrilling. I was a child again, singing and dancing like Maria von Trapp. For those few precious moments of class time, I felt free. The music in my soul was released. Never before had I felt so energized, so happy, and fulfilled at the end of each day. I wanted to do this for the rest of my life.
It has been five years since I discovered the pure joy and sustenance that came from teaching music. I have not given up my dream to perform, even though I have yet to attain it. I now have a new dream to create a business where children, teens, and adults can learn about, and perform music. I want to give them the opportunities I missed out on, to shine, to feel alive, to dream, and to be one’s self, without fear. Maybe I will be a Maria von Trapp after all.
Why This Blog?
This morning I woke up at 4 am with thoughts of recording my experiences using music with autistic children. I have learned to follow through on promptings such as this. So, I decided the best way to let others know of these success stories would be to start a blog. So, here I am.
This blog will include anecdotes and stories from my teaching experiences, stories of how music has shaped my life, success stories working with learning disabled and general elementary students. I hope my insights and anecdotes may be entertaining and useful to you, the reader.
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