For all the teachers, band directors and coaches out there

Being a teacher/coach/mentor is hard these days. I don't know about you, but sometimes when things are not going as I hoped, I wonder why the heck I do what I do. I'm getting too old to mash my hands with a saber blade!

But then things like this happen. Today I received a message on Facebook from a former student when I taught special education full time at Sheridan High School. I remember this student well. He was not easy or even pleasant to have in class, refusing to participate and gladly turned in blank exams and homework assignments. He'd disrupt my class every few minutes with James Bond trivia. I tried to hook him into learning by having him write Bond scripts for me pertaining to health. I think it was the writerly connection that kept me from totally losing it with him.

Yesterday I got a message.

Here's a piece from the letter:

As for school, I kind of regret not focusing in your classes in 9th grade especially health class. Perhaps I found it difficult to do or just wasn't used to asking for help and that's why I ended up quiting. But I learned over these years that if you didn't keep going or if you didn't ask for help and just quit, you miss out on a lot of opportunities especially in life. I have now vowed and dedicated myself to be more open and willing to work even if it is a challenge. My philosophy I think is "Don't think about how difficult it is, just get it done" and after you get it done, you feel like you have made a huge difference instead of doing nothing and sitting there thinking that it is no big deal whether you get it done or not.

Anyway, I'll talk to you later.

This student was a freshman in my health class at least six years ago. SIX YEARS.

I consider my years of full-time teaching my "dark years". The four years of my life I proved to myself that I am a total and utter failure in the classroom. After I left teaching, I sunk into a depression believing I failed. I believed I wasted years and years of my life pursuing a teaching career that was no longer.

Two and a half years ago I had this experience w/ a former student and band kid: Redeeming the Past. This still grips me. It was dramatic and profound. Take a moment to read it.

A short note from a former guard kid who ditched most of my rehearsals and appeared to hate my guts says this as she graduated over a year ago:

To the love of my guard life, I might have been a pain in your butt, but I'm glad I did guard this year and got to personally know you. Your [sic] wounderful [sic] and most of all you can put up w/ me!

What this last note revealed is that sometimes kids test us to see if we will put up with them over time. So many find adults get exasperated and walk out of their lives. Guard instructors get mad and quit. Adults walking out of their lives creates a void. A void that fills with pain. So, in the interest of self-protection they test the new adult, or in some cases they are new to the adult who's been there a while.

Kids who complained I pushed them too hard in guard come back and thank me for teaching them how to be pushed and push themselves.

Again, I'm talking years later.

That's what's so hard about teaching. It can take years IF you get to see some of the fruits of your labors.

I'm not posting this to toot my own horn, I'll leave that to the brass section. Rather I want to remind teachers and coaches why we do what we do. No matter how our season or semester progresses, we are impacting lives.

All the kids want from us is to show up and love them when they are feeling most unlovable. We may not feel like we're giving or achieving our educational/competitive goals, but in their eyes, we're sick.

The Little Band That Did

Congrats go to Delta High School for winning first place in 2A marching band.

Super congrats to Sheridan. We came in second place and are quite proud. A band of 23 gives a band of 102 something to fear. We even beat them score-wise throughout the season.

Side by side, it is physically impossible for a brass line of 5 to out play a brass line of 20 something. But we did great!

Second place isn't losing. How many Olympic athletes cry over a silver medal? Most are more than thrilled to earn a medal of any color.

Adding to the day's excitement was a watery surprise. Camp Sheridan sizzled with activity as several parents flipped burgers and dogs on gas grills. Kids in uniform huddled under blankets nibbling their hot supper. All of a sudden, We heard a gurgle and hiss.

One of our percussionists sat on the curb with a plate full of food.

In the midst of that gurgling, little black things popped up out of the grass - one under this girl's butt!

Sprinklers!

We had a generator running electric halogen lights, a full spread of salads and fixings, camp chairs and blankets. It all got soaked.

Sprinkler systems are supposed to be off by now. We've had several hard freezes.

But hey, it makes a good story and a fun memory for our little band.

Better than the silver medals that hung around our necks was the awe and respect from other bands, staff and directors.

The director from Montezuma-Cortez walked away from his band while they warmed up for their show and talked to our kids. He told them he was proud of them. Admired their courage and achievement.

While I watched my girls dance through the band bubble from the top of the bleachers, I overheard someone say, "You gotta see this to believe it - they have only 23 kids out there!"

No longer can these kids shrug and say, "I'm from Sheridan," using as an excuse for sub-par achievement. After last night, for these kids, being from Sheridan is awesome.

Will I ever learn...

...not to be an ASSumer?

Time and time again I've heard the old cliche (even though cliches are forbidden in the world of wrtiers): assume makes an ASS out of U and ME.

So, what did I do on Saturday at the Friendship Cup competition?

I wasn't the only one... the whole staff sort of ASSumed...

The Sheridan High School Marching Band has 23 kids. Total. 13 winds, 7 pit and 3 colorguard. The rest of the bands have 60 - 200 kids. How do 5 brass instruments compare against 50?

One would ASSume a teeny tiny band whose sound gets hijacked by the slightest breeze wouldn't stand a chance against bands four times their size. Most bands' trumpet lines are bigger than our entire unit!

However, the lesson we've been teaching the kids is that size doesn't matter. How clean you march/play/spin is what does. Teacher, eat your words.

Friendship Cup allows bands to compete in the prelims by size. Okay, so 60 down still isn't really all that fair when everyone in your class is hovering around 60 and you have 13 winds. The count is by wind instruments.

Our kids did okay. They played it safe. Dragged the tempo, looked scared and tried hard not to make any mistakes. Leaving the field, they were disappointed with themselves. We teachers weren't disappointed, we told them they could have taken a risk. Being the last to perform in the morning, we didn't see anyone else. We only knew everyone else was much bigger than we are.

Kids from Sheridan tend to diss on themselves. "We suck 'cuz we're Sheridan. We're ghetto. We're Sheridan, that's why." It's a way to avoid responsibility for behavior. Let's not take a risk and "put out" with hopes of success b/c we don't want to face the let down if we don't succeed.

I assumed we wouldn't make finals. Before the show, I thought our chances were slim, but we did have a chance.

While we gave the kids a educational - trust-yourself-don't-play-it-so-safe talk preparing them to go home early, a parent ran up waving a yellow piece of paper. She handed it off to me.

My eyes scanned the numbers scribbled on lines next to school names. Woah. Our number was the highest. That means...

The band director heard my squeak and tore the paper from my hands.

"Oh. My-- we're in first place! We're going to finals!"

So much for assumptions.

I assumed the performance didn't have what it took to move on. After all, the bands who make it to finals usually are the 100+ wind instrument bands.

Sad eyes brightened, and cheers ripped through the parking lot. Now, we knew we were not going to win finals. But, we told the kids to risk it all and perform like marching around on turf with a piece of plastic or metal in your mouth (or a flag in your hand) was the most incredible experience before death. They had nothing to loose.

Scoring criteria changed to fit the 100+ band sizes. Our 23 member marching band GAINED 5 points on a score sheet that pretty much doesn't recognize our existance.

The show was fun. The crowd loved it, and the kids left the field dripping with sweat and on a high even though they knew we'd be at the bottom.

We were 11th out of 12. We did beat one huge, huge band!

What's even more exciting is that folks are beginning to talk about The Little Band That Could.

I'm sorry kids for assuming. It does make and ASS out of both U and ME and you guys don't deserve that.

We're off to a good start!