Spectating

My family and I have recently relocated, and we are now beginning to visit churches close to our new home. We are looking for a place to put down roots, but we are noticing a trend in most (not all) of them. We leave feeling we have only been observing worship rather than participating in it. Whether its a praise band singing songs at us or a fog machine cranking up to set the mood, we feel like we have not been able to simply connect with those around us over the noise of it all.

Our culture seems to be rather focused on spectating over participating. We make friends over social media rather than being social with friends. We pay increasing amounts of attention to the screens in front of us and miss out on the actual adventure life offers us every day. We increasingly isolate ourselves in ‘bubbles’ and ‘echo chambers’. We avoid the messiness of real relationship with other human beings. We are content to watch from a distance, because we believe it is somehow safe.

It isn’t. Isolation breeds fear. I find myself longing for genuine relationship. I am stopping my ears against the fear mongering. I do not want to just observe. I want to live a real life with real people.

The Warrior Poet

What does it mean to be a warrior poet? The term has been used throughout my career to describe the goal of education, the importance of balance in pursuit of excellence, and sometimes to promote a questionable views of masculinity. Until recently, I never gave the phrase much thought, but I find myself inspired to explore the idea.

According to an article on the Army University Press website by Captain Ronald F. Roberts, “the warrior poet embodies the perfect balance between the physical, spiritual, and intellectual being.” These three pillars form the foundation of my own exploration of the concept. Perfect balanced may not be achievable, but these seem worthy goals for which to strive. Each day, I begin by asking myself three questions.

1. What can I do to make myself better or stronger today? I examine this question in terms of each of the pillars. To physically improve, I am altering my dietary choices, exercising regularly, and making more time for chores around the house. I also make more deliberate plans to rest and reset. To spiritually improve, I am spending more time in meditation and prayer. I am also spending better quality time with my family - we play games more and talk more. To intellectually improve, I am working to learn new skills and setting aside more time to practice. I am reading more deeply. While I am not perfect in this practice, I am working to cultivate the consistent habit.

2. What can I do to help someone else today? In order to really help someone, you must first work to understand them and their needs. This means intentionally fostering connections with the people around you. For me, it also means listening to understand instead of listening to respond. It seems to me that the aim of the warrior poet is to become a person others can truly respect. That can only happen when you show genuine respect to others.

3. Where am I falling short? It’s not possible to honestly answer the previous questions without considering this one as well. However, this question is trickier that it seems at a glance. In answering this question, I have to be careful not to simply devolve into negative self-talk that results in despair. I also have to consider that there are blind spots for me - I might not realize that I am falling short in my relationships with others. Speaking with those I trust most is useful in helping me identify areas I need to consider. “Faithful are the wounds of a friend…”

So, this is where my journey is. What image comes to your mind when you think of a warrior poet? Share them with me at jmakemusic@gmail.com.

A Disciplined Life

If you come here often, you notice that I have not written in quite a long time. I apologize for the silence, and I certainly have a lot to say over the next few weeks. In truth, I have not had to much time to reflect on what I feel comfortable sharing online and the circumstances of life that have kept me from writing more regularly of late.

Frankly, my life has become close to unmanageable. My schedule is crammed full of good things, but they are leaving me few minutes to think, to plan, and to set goals. I am now working to correct this. I am declaring war with myself.

I believe strongly in the call to lead by serving. My days are devoted to serving my students, serving my family, serving my church community, serving my ensembles, and serving my neighbors. I find ways to say ‘yes’ to all of these things, and all of them are good. However, in working to serve them all, I often end up not serving them all equally well.

I seek to adopt the mindset of a good soldier. My goal is to cultivate a more disciplined mind, a more disciplined schedule, and a more disciplined body. I realize now how connected each of these things are. In order to have a disciplined mind and body, I have to discipline my schedule to allow me time to rest and exercise. None of these things is possible apart from the other.

I am being called on to make some tough choices. I will find myself saying “no” much more often, and since I am loathe to disappoint people, I find that difficult (even painful). I will also have to let some good things go. Thank you for your prayers and good intentions as I undertake this task.

My Story to (not) Tell

I have a story that I would love to tell you. It would give you important insight into my thoughts regarding current events, and hearing me would show you a little more of my heart and help you better understand who I am. The story is my perspective on an experience of an important event in the life of my family and the fallout that followed. You would see how I have dealt with the traumas of those moments and how they have shaped me.

But I will not tell you. I am choosing withhold this part of myself from you.

Why would I do that? With the emphasis I place on connection and storytelling in my life, why would I -or anyone else- choose silence over sharing? There are many reasons.

Some of you would over-emphasize small pieces of my story to turn it into your rallying cry. You would distort the details of my story - drawing attention only to the parts you felt were important. You would make me an example to be followed or a villain to be denounced. You would highlight decisions I made in the moment as mistakes or as courageous stances in order to make me a monster or a hero. I can assure you I am neither. You would repeat my story to justify your own feelings about the world rather than reflecting on my story as a chance to better know me. You would use me.

Some of you would refuse to empathize with me and would choose instead to sit in judgement of me. You would criticize the choices made throughout the story and conclude that I somehow deserved what happened. You would use my story as an opportunity to tell your own - a story about your superiority. You will tell yourself that you would never do the things I had done. You would repeat my story to inflate your own ego because you are such a better person than I am. You would use me.

I would also choose not to tell you my story because I tell myself you will not care. You see, I have witnessed others share their stories who have been met with skepticism, indifference, or outright hostility. We delight in tearing others apart, especially if we disagree with them. Why would I ever choose to open my heart and share myself with you when I suspect you are only waiting to tear me apart? I admit that I am judging you before the fact - which is not fair - but I am no fool. I see how you have refused to listen to others who have poured themselves out to you. They have left in a worse state than before. You have used them.

Because I fear these things, I will choose rather to keep silent. I will share this story only with myself, and you will never have the chance to know me as well as I wish you could.

Silence over sharing is the choice of too many. Finding stories distorted and misused is the experience of too many. Fellow travelers, these things should not be. Do better. Let us all resolve to listen more deeply.

The Roles We Play

I have recently been cast in a summer theater production of Ghosts by Henrik Ibsen. The performance is a part of Obvious Dad’s second season (find out more about it here). The thought and preparation for the role is energizing for me, and I am grateful to be cast in this play. While I am sure the play will be challenging for many who come to see it, I hope it will provide opportunities to have good conversations and explore ideas. Perhaps I will see you there.

While beginning the work of preparing, I have been reflecting on the roles I have played in the past. I am not simply referring to dramatic productions here, but the roles in which I have been cast in life. Some have cast me in the role of “Hero” or “Mentor”. To others, I am “Villain” or “Adversary”. In many lives, I have played only an ensemble role. For several, I am one of the principal characters.

In truth, I do not always enjoy the role in which I am cast by another. There are times when I have not deserved the title they have given me. At times, the part they ask me to play goes against my view of myself. However, if I am to be honest, I must admit that I have sometimes brought the roles on myself. There are those who hate me and those who love me, and I have (consciously or not) given them cause to feel as they do.

Ultimately, I have little control over the roles I am assigned in others’ lives. Therefore, I shall choose to waste little energy fretting about it. Instead, I will focus on being my most authentic self with everyone I meet. As Jung said, “The privilege of a lifetime is to become who you really are.” That is a part I believe I can wholly embrace.

Lowering the Volume

As I have been reflecting on the past year, it has occurred to me how very loud life has become. One might think that I am used to being surrounded by noise (I am, after all, a middle school band director), but I find that the mental clutter of life has become a huge distraction for me. News media, social media, politically passionate people - all clamoring for my attention. New directives regarding how I teach, planning for the unknown with imperfect information, personal anxieties - all adding new stresses each day.

On top of all this, the past year has been full of grief. We are all facing losses we have not been prepared to process. We have lost friends and family members to COVID. We have had to let go of some hopes and dreams. We are tired, we feel overworked, we feel unappreciated. Just when we feel we have a better handle on life, things seem to begin spiraling all over again.

Times are difficult for all of us. The constant noise we are surrounded by daily is making it worse. So, for now, I am making the decision to reduce the volume. I am choosing to stop listening to alarms and start looking for opportunities. I am choosing to engage with my students and making sure they are heard and seen. I am creating some space between me and the media through the use of the mute button. I am choosing to take time for meditation and prayer. I have decided to tune out the earthquake and fire for a while so I can listen for the still, small voice.

I still want to change the world, but I am reminded that changing the world is accomplished by changing one life at a time. I’m going to focus on changing my life and working to impact the lives of those closest to me first.

A Peaceful, Easy Feeling

I once read in a sermon illustration of a painting that depicted a devastating tornado ripping through a neighborhood.The canvas hung in an art gallery, and one of the docents noticed a gentleman who would often visit and look at this particular work. She approached him one afternoon and asked him, “Sir, may I ask what you see?”

”I see peace,” he replied.

”Peace? How is that? There is nothing in this picture but the destructive force of nature.”

The gentleman smiled and pointed in the lower corner of the canvas. He indicated a tree that had been passed over by the tornado. In its branches, a mother bird spread her wings over her babies - protecting them and comforting them in the midst of the chaotic scene. He said, “To know love and comfort in the midst of the ruins life throws our way - that is peace.”

So many of us are experiencing turmoil and struggles we have never faced before. It is easy to believe that we are responsible for manufacturing moments of respite for the sake of our sanity. However, in truth, peace is happening all around us. It isn’t manufactured. It is observed. Take a break from your work, turn off the screens, and take a deep breath. Walk outside if you are able. Reflect on your friends who truly live life with you and lift you up. Quiet your mind. Extend grace to yourself. Be still and observe.

You are seen. You are loved. Experience peace.

On Moving Away by Heather Ake (Guest Blogger)

Hello, readers! For those of you who don’t know, my name is Heather, and I’m Michael’s daughter. I’m currently a theatre major and French minor at Oglethorpe University. Recently, I moved into my first grown-up apartment. Instead of living just a door away from my family, I’m a two-hour drive away. That doesn’t mean I’ve been able to get rid of them by any means; they’ve come to visit several times, which I don’t mind at all. 

Thanks to my dad, music has always been a central part of my life. When I moved, I’m sure he was worried about how much I could change while I was away. When he came to visit me most recently, I told him that I had borrowed a record of his favorite album by The Police- “Synchronicity” (which I highly recommend if you haven’t listened to it already.) I borrowed it because I wanted to have an element of our relationship as father and daughter with me through the music we’ve listened to together. Once he buys a turntable to keep at home, I’ll return it, but until then, I’ll listen to it and appreciate it for both of us. 

My parents were gracious enough to allow me to adopt a stray kitten during my last couple of months at home. His name is Turtle, and he’s just over three months old now. Taking care of him has definitely shown me that I have more of a maternal instinct than I thought I did. I appreciate the ways in which he’s served as support for me more than his little mind will ever be able to fathom. His presence as my emotional support animal has alleviated many of my anxieties and worries so that my self reflection can be more constructive. I firmly believe that if my 13-year-old self, trapped in the middle of some of the worst events I’ve lived through, were to see him and my apartment, she’d rejoice at the fact that we survived and are thriving. 

Moving has provided me a very much needed time to reevaluate myself. Gaining physical and mental distance from where so many formative events of my life happened have allowed me to see them from a fresh point of view. In a way, I almost feel like I’m seeing them from an out-of-body perspective. I see the girl I used to be as someone entirely different now, which has allowed me to give myself so much more grace. I endured a lot during my time in Chattanooga, good and bad; now I can be free from the bad memories while still embracing all of the good. Atlanta is a beautiful city and I love every morning I wake up to the train rumbling by my window, but a part of me will always miss the sunsets on the ridge. 

On Social Media

I have been thinking a great deal lately about social media and the impact it is having on my life and mental health. When I first began using social media sites, they represented a wonderful opportunity to reconnect with friends and stay in touch with things going on in their lives (especially those who lived far away). Facebook and Twitter became valuable sources of news from around the world as well. I still use social media for these purposes.

Social media provides an easy way for us to connect and have meaningful discussions with people who share common interests. We are able to expand our opportunities to learn and engage with others. Friends will recommend films or musicians I should experience. I find myself inspired to read a book, to attend a local arts presentation, or to learn more about a particular issue. I often get good recommendations for services I need. Social media remains an incredibly valuable and useful tool.

However, I no longer believe that social media is useful for some kinds of advocacy. If I want to advocate for someone to be punished, held accountable, or shamed, then social media is a powerful and effective tool. If I want to simply create awareness of an issue - which I would call neutral advocacy - I can post articles with ease in hopes of making an impact. If I feel like picking a fight, social media can certainly help. If I am looking to actually move the needle on an issue or policy though - to provoke thoughtful discourse, to show my support, or to engage in meaningful dialogue with someone who disagrees with me - social media seems to be rather ineffective.

I am convinced that for me to meaningfully advocate for any issue I feel strongly about, the best tools I have available are my physical presence, my wallet, and my physical voice. The most productive dialogues I have happen over a cup of coffee or tea. When I am face to face, people are harder to dismiss - more difficult to silence. It is also tougher to turn them into a straw man that I can kick with impunity. I want to invest more time and energy in seeing people as they are and where they are. It takes more effort on my part - I have to put myself out into the world and figure out how to put myself in new surroundings - but it is almost always worth the work.

To change the world, I have to be in the world. I intend to be out there, connecting with people. If you would like to join me for a cup and a conversation - reach out and let me know. Social media can help with that part.

Rolling with the Changes - Part 3

“Come gather 'round, people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You'll be drenched to the bone
If your time to you is worth savin'
And you better start swimmin'
Or you'll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin.”

Never before in my life have I seen the truth behind Bob Dylan’s words. From our politics to social norms, everything around us is in a state of rapid flux.While this series of posts are focused on changes in the music education field, I remain convinced that the principles discussed are applicable in any area of life where things seem uncertain. The first principle we discussed was that “The way we have always done it” is NOT the way we have always done it. We must avoid inflexible thinking at all costs. Principle number 2 is closely related to this idea.

Principle Number 2 - Proactive is better than reactive.

Change is inevitable. Things do not stay the same, and if we are unable or unwilling to adapt, we will not weather the changes well. In light of that reality, we should have both eyes open and seek to understand the changes that are coming our way. As we observe the world around us, listen deeply to the world we are walking in, and reflect with our communities about what lies ahead, we are better able to accurately anticipate changes as they are happening.

In that moment, as the shift is approaching, we have two options. We can dig in and hang on while the change sweeps over us, or we can adjust our sails to take advantage of the approaching winds. Being proactive is about taking control of the things we can control and making small adjustments in advance of the circumstances. Proactive action requires us to be honest with ourselves about what we can impact and what we cannot, and then we get busy doing what we can. Being proactive forces us to take responsibility for our lives rather than being a passive bystander while things happen to us.

If we take the reactive approach, we resign ourselves to placing blame and living a life that is overwhelmed. It sets us on the path of the downward spiral. The result is a false feeling of powerlessness and despair.

In order to roll with the changes, we must be willing to take the risk of being proactive. Even if we are wrong about our assessments and the anticipated changes do not happen, we will still find ourselves in a flexible, fluid position as we seek to deal with our new situation. Full disclosure: I am still working on this. You should too.

Rolling with the Changes - Part 2

We all realize that there are lies we encounter ever day. “I’m fine.” “I have read and agree to the Terms of Service.” “This is the way we have always done it.” There are a multitude of reasons we choose to tell them. Perhaps we do not trust the person listening to understand our reasoning. Maybe we are impatient, or we are bored by the language used. We might be afraid it will be over our heads and that we will not understand. We are likely defensive, or we are simply allowing our minds to be lazy.

Principle Number 1 - The “Way We Have Always Done It” is NOT the way we have always done it.

Music education has been around for a long time. Plato wrote about it’s importance, the Schola Cantorum was founded in the fourth century, and singing classes have been a part of public schools since the nineteenth century. However, the public face of most school music programs - school bands, orchestras, and show choir ensembles - are largely creations of the last 100 years. They are a small blip on the timeline of music education history.

In many programs, ensembles serve as curators of a standard repertoire. We play a Sousa March, an orchestral transcription, and a few works from the accepted canon. There is absolutely nothing wrong with this approach. I agree that our students need to be exposed to the literature that has lead us to establish the programs we know and love. However, we should not pretend that this is the only way to musically educate students. It is certainly not what Beethoven, Mozart, or Bach did. It’s not what most musicians around the world have done throughout music history.

Students benefit from hearing a wide variety of music and should learn to appreciate music from a variety of cultures and people groups. They must be taught how to listen. Indeed, learning to listen may be one of the most important skills a student needs to develop in our current climate. It is important that students understand that there are more ways to approach music theory than solely through the lens of 18th century, European, male composers. Students need to practice transcription and composition. They should be performing music of their own making with different types of ensembles and instrumentations. They should be learning how to speak the language of music rather than just how to reproduce the works of those that have gone before them. As important as the reading of great literature is, reading is not the only means we use to teach language. We must engage our creative minds to figure out ways to include these experiences in our classrooms.

I am not suggesting that we should do away with the large ensemble experience in our schools. However, we must stop pretending that large ensemble performance is all there is to educating a student. Successful music education should include exposure to great composers - both living and historical. However, if that’s all a student gets, it is not really an education.

We cannot afford to limit our thinking by imposing false choices on ourselves. We have other options that should be explored. The possibilities are limitless. We owe it to our students to avoid falling into the lie that we have always done things in this manner.

Rolling with the Changes - Part 1

I have no doubt that if you are reading this, you have recently experienced life circumstances that were unlike anything for which you were prepared. If that is not the case in this strange year of 2020, hang on to your socks because those changes are just around the corner for you. As Rush reminds us, “Changes aren’t permanent, but change is.”

Many of us are uncomfortable with changes because of the upheaval and uncertainty they bring to our lives. Sometimes, change is difficult. Sometimes, it is painful. It is almost always uncomfortable. While this blog series will be focused on changes that are occurring in the music education profession throughout the United States, I believe the principles discussed will be applicable in any area of life where change is happening. I think that the application of these ideas will help anyone navigating the fear and despair that often accompanies times of change. I want to offer you hope.

The first principle we should consider has already been mentioned. Uncertain times can come upon us at any time and in multiple areas of our lives - sometimes simultaneously. Music education is undergoing significant changes at the graduate and undergraduate levels due to shifts in the demands of the music profession and the changing values of culture. The career path that so many musicians prepared for 40 years ago no longer exists for the majority of music students studying today. This has caused many institutes of higher education to make large changes to their curriculum to insure these new demands are being met by their students. As college curriculums are modified, the shifts in focus will impact secondary music education as well, and these changes cause stresses on teachers, especially those who have been working in the field for a time. However, we cannot be about the business of preparing students to survive in the job market of the 1970s and 1980s. We must prepare them to thrive where they will land today.

Music educators at every level are also being confronted with new challenges due to the pandemic, and the methodologies we have used over the years are proving incredibly difficult - if not impossible - to implement in the age of Zoom, Google Classroom, and cancelled public performances. Large ensemble rehearsals aren’t possible due to safety concerns. Even online instruction is problematic due to accessibility issues for our students.

That’s the way change works. Life confronts us with new circumstances - things for which we have not been able to prepare - and we are called on to rise to the occasion and find a way forward. We need to recognize that we are not the only ones going through these changes and that reaching out to ask for help is not a sign of weakness or inadequacy. You are also not a burden when you ask for assistance. We are built for community. We are not meant to get through this alone. “Finding a way forward” is happening in classrooms across the nation, in professional development online groups, and webinars all around the world. Teachers are ready to help teachers. I am proud to be a music educator and to see the way the profession is reaching out to help individual teachers and orchestrate student success. Whatever the changes you face, there are people willing to step in and help. As Mr. Rogers often said, “Look for the helpers.”

I have worked with middle schoolers for over two decades now. If anyone knows what it is like to experience rapid, uncomfortable, seemingly constant change, it is my students. As painful and awkward as this adolescent period is, what would be truly strange - and wrong - would be for a student to remain the same throughout these years. We would do well to remember that change should happen - must happen - regularly. Stagnation is unnatural and leads us nowhere. Breathe. Look for the possibility. Ask for help. You will get it.

Celebrating Stories (Part 2)

I have been trying to write a new blog post for a couple of weeks now. The post discusses dealing with changes in life by examining my own response to changes in the music education profession. It will be worth the read (I believe) once it is done, but I have not been able to finish it. It’s not that I am procrastinating. I have just been dealing with some grief, and I find it difficult to concentrate on anything else, so I thought I would share this instead.

I have been writing about the stories we tell ourselves and others and the importance of taking time to share your story. However, I would be remiss if I did not say something about the risks involved as well. Sharing your story with someone else is an intimate act. It makes you vulnerable. It opens you up to critique and possible rejection. If you are not careful about with whom you share your story, you may find elements of it used to manipulate or embarrass you. In the past weeks, I have been sharply reminded of this reality.

Sharing your story is about letting someone see you as you are (or as you believe yourself to be). In the process, you entrust the best and worst parts of yourself to someone else. If they break that trust, or if they reject you once they see you more clearly, it is devastating. They make it less likely you will be willing to let yourself be seen again. It can make your world smaller. It can leave you feeling alone.

You are not alone. As R.E.M. reminds us, everybody hurts sometimes. Everybody cries. When you are experiencing grief, pain, and loneliness it becomes even more important to share your story with someone else. Find someone who will not try to ‘fix things’ or offer advice you are not ready to receive. Find someone who will make space for you to feel how you feel and who will encourage you to grow from that place of pain. A counselor. A friend. A spouse. Someone.

When we share our grief, we are united in our common humanity. Do not swallow it up. I know that you do not want to burden others with your sorrows or your pain, but for those who truly love you - it is an honor to help carry your burdens. Allow others to show you that kind of love. Share your burden, and be ready to help them shoulder theirs. It is what we are called to do for each other. It is how we live out loving our neighbors as ourselves.

The Stories We Tell

In a previous post, I reflected on the importance of sharing our stories. Stories, however they are shared (as songs, plays, writings, etc.), help us establish connections with each other and understand each other more completely. When you tell me about who you are, you help me understand better who I am. We each learn more about our place in the world. Storytelling allows you the opportunities to make your voiced heard.

This week, I have been thinking about another aspect of story-telling - the stories we tell ourselves. Most of us give little conscious thought to the stories themselves, but in truth, we are always telling ourselves tales. Some are stories about our past - tales of our heartbreaks and personal triumphs, tales of what has led us to this moment in our history, tales of who we have been. Some are stories about our potential futures - anxieties over possible crisis, hopes of where the next decisions we make might take us, our dreams of brighter tomorrows. All of these stories work together to help us manifest our imaginations, shape our response to the world around us, and define how we see ourselves in relationship with others. As we tell ourselves we are, so we are - or work to become.

We spend so little time in considering our inner narratives that we often fail to pause and reflect with clarity and consistency. I find myself wasting my time and energy dwelling on a multitude of future scenarios that will never actually come to pass, creating an unhealthy anxiety. I often fail to put past experiences in their proper perspective - indeed, my thoughts and feelings about my past shift all the time - cultivating a skewed framework for decision making in the present. As Seneca reminds us, “We are more often frightened than hurt, and we suffer more from imagination than from reality.”* I believe he means this in reference to our past, present, and future.

Many times, we are guilty of crafting for ourselves comfortable illusions. We tell ourselves what we want most to hear and to believe and overlook - or willfully ignore - anything that might challenge or contradict it. These illusions have a way of brushing up against reality eventually which leaves them - and sometimes us - broken.

The difficulty is being completely honest with ourselves. Honesty makes us uncomfortable because it challenges us to think critically. Honesty is certainly not always encouraged by our culture (consider how advertisers seek to create dissatisfaction in our lives where there is none) or our egos. In the presence of honest truth, I cannot remain as I am. Truths transform us, and we do not always welcome the change. Instead, we seek out information that confirms our existing biases and opinions and focus more on having been right all along over being right.

Being honest requires me to acknowledge my faults without overstating them. It means admitting that I am actually good at some tasks and that I am both worthy of and deserving of love and respect. Being honest means accepting that I have little control over many of my circumstances, but I have complete control over my responses. Being honest means admitting that I do not (and cannot) know everything, Rather than protecting myself from transformation, through honesty I move toward it and embrace it.

What stories are you telling yourself these days? What habits of thinking need to change so that you can transform into the person you most need to be?

*Quotes from Lucius Antaeus Seneca from www.goodreads.com/quotes - accessed September 26, 2020

Celebrating Stories

It is usually a busy time of year for me, but this year has been unique. For example, over Labor Day weekend I spent a lot of time driving an automobile. My wife and I moved our oldest child into her college dorm on Friday. The following morning, I drove my mother across the state to visit with some of her family and attend the funeral of her aunt (a special lady in every respect - she will be deeply missed). One trip was full of firsts for me - first child away at college, first encounters with families of her new classmates who were busy moving their kids into the dorm; the other trip was full of more familiar places and visits with family members that I do not get to see regularly. In both trips, however, several things were consistent. There were a lot of memories made. There were a lot of stories shared. There was a great deal of laughter. There were some tears shed. Loss was experienced.

In the midst of the loss, I learned. As I drove my mother through her hometown, she pointed out houses and told me stories of who had lived there when she was a girl. I learned that she had once driven a locomotive, visited a hobo camp with her father, and dreamed of owning a farm nestled in the hills. She told me about frightening moments that she had never shared with others. She cried when she saw that her grandparents’ homes were no longer there and the state of her own childhood home. I met her first crush. I learned a lot about her heart, her dreams, and her struggles. I learned more about who she is, who her parents were, and in those stories I also learned more about who I am. I learned more about my place in the world.

Stories do that. They connect us in ways we cannot fully comprehend. They help us share our common humanity, our dreams, our hopes, our sorrows. Whether the stories are shared in poems, in music, on a stage, or sitting in a car driving down a state highway, stories bring people to life in new ways for us. They connect us to each other and help us find our way together. They teach us that however we are feeling in any moment, others have felt that way too. Stories show us that we can survive, that we can find new ways of being, that we do not have to be afraid. Stories teach us how to grieve, how to rejoice, and how much alike we are. They remind us that we are truly on this journey together.

Most of us don’t spend a lot of time thinking about or sharing our stories. We often do not even realize their importance until we experience a loss. We are sometimes mindless about the stories we tell ourselves everyday about who we are and the world we live in. Celebrating stories is a call to all of us to reconnect, to learn about each other by truly listening, and ultimately to learn about ourselves.

So pull up a chair. Tell me a story, and show me who you really are. In doing that, you help me see more clearly who I really am.

Returning to School in the Time of COVID-19

In a few days, I will be welcoming my band students back to the classroom for the first time since March 13, 2020. Though the setting will be familiar to them, I am sure the experience of learning new procedures and protocols designed to keep them safe during this pandemic will be something akin to drinking water from a fire hose. As a school, we will be asking a great deal of these middle school boys - staying adequately distanced, staying masked up, being mindful of how they interact after school hours. It will seem daunting at times for all of us.

Both faculty and students have been mourning the missed opportunities of the spring semester - no spring concert, no in person awards ceremony, no ceremonial welcome to the high school - and the realities of the new semester will loom large. There is little chance of performing in front of a large audience of parents and peers. Being a part of a band that practices but never takes the stage seems like a lot of effort for no reward - besides the intrinsic rewards that come from learning a musical instrument. However, to be honest, for many students the thrill of making music together for an appreciative audience is the very thing that keeps them engaged with the art long enough to discover the intrinsic value.

As I met with the faculty, I acknowledged that many things we have done in the past years will prove impossible because unsafe. We could spend time mourning this, or we were free to choose a different perspective.

For the first time in years, there are no expectations regarding our concerts. They can be anything we choose for them to be. Chamber ensembles indoors. Larger ensembles in outdoor drive-in concerts. Virtual performances shared on social media. The sky is the limit. Through technology, our current students can duet with alumni from around the world without having to leave Chattanooga. Students who are still choosing to learn virtually can perform ‘fireside’ recitals to share with the entire community over the web. We can choose this time to set our creatives selves loose and truly think of performance in a new way. We can try and fail and try again.

More importantly, we can take the time to listen to our students. We can guide them to experiment with ideas, to look for new means of expression, and to use their voices to change the curriculum. We can find new ways to make them powerful. We can show them that this is how you change the world.

In truth, what our students need more than anything from us is the kind of leadership that looks for ways to empower others - especially them. We can model a positive outlook in the midst of this chaos - recognizing what we cannot control and controlling our responses to our circumstances. Working with them, we can all think creatively, critically, and collaboratively. We can find new ways to connect our community. These are the skills that will help them navigate the shifting sands of the future. We can help them cultivate these tools now. We must.

On Selecting a Musical Instrument: A Cautionary Tale

My beginning band students ask a lot of questions when it becomes time to try out the various instruments available to them. They want to know which instruments are easiest to play, which instrument I think suits them best, and - for the REALLY forward looking students - whether or not there might be college scholarships available for them if they pick a particular instrument. In answer, I inform them that each instrument has unique requirements, so each is easy for some people to play and more difficult for others. That shouldn’t be their concern. While not referring to specific students in the class, I will point out physical characteristics that might make some instruments more difficult to play. I inform them that if they are willing to work, there are college grants available for most instruments.

But I find the real obstacle to making a good choice on an instrument to pursue comes from a fixed mindset. Many students approach the tryout process having already decided that some instruments are ‘cooler’ than others. While we all readily acknowledge that the tuba is the greatest instrument known to man, this is not a good criterion for choosing to play the tuba. The instrument you play well is the cool instrument to play. Very few people are impressed by someone who holds a ‘cool’ looking instrument but cannot make a good sound with it. However, people will throw money at someone who plays an instrument really well.

I always take a few minutes to relate this story to them during the selection process.

Early in my career, I taught a young lady that I will call ‘Lauren’ (not her actual name). Lauren joined the band in the 6th grade, and she walked confidently up to a table on which I had placed instruments for the students to try. She pointed at the trumpet. I got the instrument ready, and she tried her best. The sound was simply not happening. As I watched her, I could see that her embouchure would struggle producing a good tone on a small mouthpiece, so I suggested she try a euphonium. “No. I’m going to play trumpet.”

So, I signed Lauren up as a trumpet player. She struggled. To this day, I am unsure how she managed this - but no matter what valve combination she used or how I coached her to change her embouchure, the same sound came out of the bell. The exact same sound. Not a pretty sound. Not even a solid beginner sound. It was a croaking, strained, barking noise.

Of course, Lauren practiced a great deal to improve her abilities. Just kidding, she didn’t. She sounded terrible, and she knew it. She couldn’t stand to listen to her own sound, so we never saw her taking her instrument into a practice room. She began to give up. I encouraged her as best I could, but it was no use. Her classmates even grew resigned to the fact that she would not improve.

Just before the end of the fall semester, Lauren came up to me after class. She informed me she would be withdrawing from band after the holiday break. “I just can’t do this,” she said.

I responded, “Lauren, I understand you’re frustrated. But you have learned a lot! You know how to read the notation and you press the correct valves! Do this for me. For the next couple of weeks leading up to the break, try the euphonium. Just give it a shot. I’ll give you treble clef parts, so you won’t have to learn new fingerings or note names. If you try it and hate it, I’ll sign the forms and let the registrar reschedule you for the spring semester.” She agreed.

The euphonium section gave me a angry scowl when they saw Lauren joining them in our next rehearsal. However, once she played - everyone in the room turned to see what was going on. She made more progress in her sound in that single rehearsal than she had all semester. Her classmates cheered her on. She had real fun in class playing music with her friends, and she had the satisfaction of knowing that she had made a solid contribution to the ensemble sound.

She didn’t quit. She continued to play throughout her middle school and high school career. She became a real leader in the ensemble and earned a small performance grant when she went into college to study nursing. Music is still an important part of her life.

I encourage each of my students to approach the tryout process with an open mind. Don’t decided which instrument is the coolest. Listen for the instrument on which you sound best! Find that, and then make the most of every opportunity to show people what you’ve got. You will not regret it!

In Memory of Anita Miller-Banks

On Friday morning, July 31, 2020, I was on the phone talking shop with a fellow faculty member. We were discussing a number of uncertainties that teachers everywhere are facing during the pandemic and trying to process some of the policy decisions that our administration had issued the night before. Out of nowhere, he blurted, “Anita is dead.”

His brother-in-law had just sent him a text with the news. We both sat in stunned silence for a moment, thinking it could not really be true. I kept thinking, “Nothing is posted on social media about this. How would he even know?” However, soon after these thoughts ran through my mind, a second message confirmed the heartbreaking news.

Anita and I had met in band during our college years. She was a sparkling, winsome lady in every sense. She was the kind of person we all need to meet when we are new and unsure of our surroundings. She welcomed people. She took the initiative to speak to those who were out on the periphery. She was always the optimist - when things looked bad, I could always count on her to smile and help me see the brighter side of things. As one friend put it, “she was transforming the energy wherever she was.”

Following graduation, I ran into Anita infrequently. Her smile and warm embrace never changed. Through social media, I was able to see her still engaging with people who needed her most. When the pandemic hit hardest in March, Anita challenged us all to help wherever we could. It was what she was doing. She made masks for people. She spread her kindness all around, and she called on others to join her in so doing. She made a difference.

She loved her husband, Cliff. She would relate how he cared for her and protected her. She never lost her faith in a God who was working things out for good. She loved her family - including her Sigma Alpha Iota sisters.

If you want to join me in honoring the life of this marvelous woman, do this: take a moment to reach out to someone and listen to them. Smile more often. Make something. Share a kind word with someone who needs it. Welcome others.

Be at peace, Anita Miller-Banks. I am a better person because I knew you. Thank you for being exactly who God made you to be.