Flapping

 I have a student who loves music.

It’s not necessarily music CLASS that she loves.

It’s music in general.

And the flute.

She loves the flute.

And the violin.

She gets super excited when I get out the violin.

She doesn’t say many words, though.

Instead, she flaps her arms and says,

“Violin” or “Flute” or “Instruments”

And then pretends to play them.

 

On Tuesday, when she heard the flute play during “Stars and Stripes Forever,”

My student immediately went to “her” flute—

A real flute that I leave out just for her—

Picked it up and started to “play.”

 

When I got down the guitar,

My student flapped her arms, jumped up and down in excitement, and got right next to me while I played.

I was playing the first verse of “America The Beautiful.”

My student doesn’t sing.

So I gestured for her to strum.

I changed the chords.

She strummed either the beat or the rhythm of the song.

The other students in the class were amazed.

“She’s really good,” they said.

My student, oblivious to the compliments,

Continued to flap.

 

A few minutes later,

When doing the second verse of “America the Beautiful,”

I gestured for my student to play again.

She started to play but then said, “No!”

And took my hand and put it on the guitar.

She wanted ME to play so she could listen—

And flap.

 

Autism is a neurodevelopmental disorder characterized by impaired social interaction, challenges with verbal and non-verbal communication, and restricted and repetitive behaviors. Autism affects information processing in the brain by altering how nerve cells and their synapses connect and organize information.

 

Flapping is a self-stimulatory behavior (a stim) that children with autism do to calm themselves or regulate their emotional state when emotions are running high—out of excitement, happiness, anticipation, and joy—or from anxiety, frustration, and feeling overwhelmed.

 

My student flaps out of sheer happiness.

 

And I am so glad.

 

Dear God: You have made us all different. Thank you. Help us as we learn to accept, embrace, and honor our differences—even when they’re hard to understand. Amen. 

A Kid's Trauma Response

 Last week, I had had enough of one of my students. They’d been boisterous at breakfast day after day and they’d been out-of-control of their body in class week after week. I quickly judged that they either had uncontrolled ADHD or were simply pushing boundaries to see what they could get away with. I was very firm with them, showed little patience or compassion, and opened ClassDojo to write their mom a message…until a little voice told me to talk to their teacher.

 

I found out that they have a terrible home life. Mom was recently arrested and put in jail. Dad wasn’t in the picture. They were staying with a family friend who had no legal authority over them and was abusive. They had been neglected due to drug use and had no one in their court to help them get to school to receive said breakfast, or lunch, or education.

 

They don’t necessarily have ADHD. But they do have PTSD. Trauma mimics ADHD in many ways: hypervigilance, inattention, detachment, irritability, anger outbursts, distractedness, restlessness, impatience, impulsiveness, and difficulty concentrating. And I feel like an idiot for so quickly passing judgment on a kid just trying to get by.

 

Trauma affects people’s lives in ways we are just beginning to fully understand. Persons with unresolved trauma may experience chronic fatigue, eating disorders, obesity, interpersonal difficulties, low self-esteem, anxiety, poor immune function, hypertension, aggressive behavior, and depression to name a few.

 

How many times do we see adults with these symptoms and pass judgment on them—especially those with interpersonal difficulties, aggressive behaviors, and depression/anxiety?

 

What about persons who are homeless? Have you considered that persons experiencing homelessness are likely to be victims of trauma?

 

According to Starr Commonwealth, a leading expert on trauma and resilience, “Trauma is anything we experience or perceive as being something we have no control over – something that leaves us feeling completely helpless, hopeless, and fearing for our safety or our survival.” Trauma is something that happens to us—violent or non-violent—that leaves us feeling “helpless, hopeless, and fearing for our safety and survival.” Trauma is not the victim’s fault.

 

And yet…how many times do be blame the victim by passing moral judgment and believing that they should be able to pull themselves up from their bootstraps and move forward?

 

It’s just not that easy…just like it’s not that easy for my student.  

 

My student needs therapy. They need a stable homelife with someone who loves them and doesn’t abuse them. They need a continued safe place in school with food and shelter and people who love them and support them and believe that they can learn no matter what else is going on in the world. They need social services that can provide help to get out of generational poverty and familial trauma. So many things need to happen for this student to rise above the trauma they have already experienced and to not pass that trauma to future generations. Likewise, so many things need to happen to move people from homelessness to places of employment and shelter.

 

We live in a broken world, full of broken people who don’t need to be judged but loved. I judged my student. I have judged the homeless. May God forgive my blind ignorance, and may God help me move forward with the reminder that there is almost always more than meets the eye. May God allow us to love all people with the love that only God can give—the God who understands trauma—the God who went to the cross. Amen.  

 

By the way, after talking with their teacher, I have changed my attitude toward my student—toward all of my students, really. When they started their boisterous behavior in the cafeteria, I looked at them and spoke with love and compassion rather than stern annoyance. And what do you know? They responded by calming down. And what do you not know? Whether they are a boy or girl. It doesn’t matter. Both experience trauma. And both need to be loved…

Finding My Voice

 Each year, the State Reading Council hosts a writing competition for students and staff. The theme changes from year to year, but the format stays the same: Write fiction, non-fiction, poetry, or prose and keep the writing under a certain word limit.  Winners receive a certificate, a medal, and a page in a published book of all writers’ works.

 

In years past, I’ve written for the competition as if I were writing a note for adults. It never occurred to me that students might actually read my writing. So this year I changed my style. I first wrote for adults; then, after reading my writing to a few classes, I edited it so that students could more easily understand. This year’s theme is “Your Voice Matters: Celebrating Every Reader’s Story.” Here is my story:

 

I was in middle school when I found my voice.

I was supposed to play a piece by Debussy at the piano recital at my church.

I had practiced the piece for months and performed it in competition.

I knew the drill: work hard, memorize a piece, get scared out of my mind to play in front of a room full of people, rely on muscle memory to get me through, then relax and celebrate that it was all over.

 

This night was different, though.

I didn’t want to perform the Debussy piece that my piano teacher had selected for me.

I wanted to play a piece that I had written--

No words--

Just a dramatic, upbeat piano solo with a driving bass and staccato treble line.

 

I don’t know if I jinxed myself with a middle-school bad attitude or what.

I just know that when I sat down to play that night,

My mind went completely blank.

My muscle memory failed me.

I could NOT remember how to play the Debussy!

 

After a few tries, I finally looked at the audience and said,

“Ya’ll. I forgot my piece. I’m going to play another one.”

And so I did.

I played the piece that I had written.

 

For a long time after that night,

I felt like a failure.

I felt as if I had disappointed my piano teacher and my parents,

And I carried that disappointment with me in the form of deep sadness.

 

But after many years and many hours replaying that night,

I finally realized something:

 

That moment wasn’t a moment of weakness to be ashamed of.

Rather, that moment was a moment of great courage to be celebrated.

 

In a moment when I could have shut down and walked off stage completely,

I mustered my strength, came up with a solution, and used my voice to declare:

I may have forgotten my piece, but I’m going to play another one,

One that I wrote,

One that is authentically me,

One that I may forget in the years to come,

But one that will forever be a turning point in my life.

 

I found my voice at my piano recital that night.

 

And for that, I will always be grateful.

 

Frozen

 I’ve only seen the movie once.

Before I saw it, I read an article about how wonderful it was:

How it spoke to the idea of living into true self.

It hailed the song, “Let It Go,” as an anthem of absolute freedom,

And it built a sense of excitement for the movie that, well,

Led to disappointment.

 

I got mad at the movie when I saw it.

“Let It Go” was a premature statement of freedom.

Elsa was not letting everything go.

She was just moving her isolation to a place where she no longer had to hide her magic from herself.

She had not accepted her true self.

She had simply run away from everyone and everything she might hurt.

 

(Yes, I have talked about this in therapy :-p).

 

I never forgave the movie,

So I was surprised by my decision to take myself and Amelia-The-Niece to see the musical.

I was also surprised by the musical itself.

It was wonderful.

And it didn’t make me mad.

It developed the characters of Elsa and Anna a lot more than the movie,

And it led me to feel sad for Elsa—

For the shame she carried for all those years,

Alone.

For the thoughts of the world being a better place without her,

For the inner battle to choose to live.

I could feel her pain—her struggle—her desire to live into her full self.

I felt sad for her unresolved childhood trauma.

And I felt sad for Anna, who clearly loved Elsa so much,

But just couldn’t break through to convince her of that love.

 

In the end, after they both make a lot of mistakes,

And Anna sacrifices herself for Elsa,

And they both finally understand true love,

They sing a spin on “Let It Go” that I think is beautiful:

 

“There’s so much I’ve longed to say

Then say it all beginning with today

It’s like a dream, I thought could never be

Elsa, you’re free!

 

Let it go, let it go

Show was what you can do

Let it go, let it go

The magic one is you

‘Cause here we stand

In the light of day

Let the sun shine on

 

I take this warmth within and send it up above

Goodbye to dark and fear

Let’s fill this world with light and love

 

I’m here surrounded by a family at last

We’re never going back

The past is in the past

Let it go, let it go

Then we’ll rise like the break of dawn

Let it go, let it go

The fear and cold are gone

Here we stand in the light of day

Let our true love go

Let it go”

 

Yes, friends:

Let it go.

Let the fear and cold come into the light of day.

You are loved.

Truly.

Unconditionally.

As your full self.

Let it go.

Let’s fill this world with love.

 

In Jesus’s name,

Amen.

On Yelling

 For the past few days,

I’ve been learning how to make simple lyric videos for my classroom.

Since I wanted to go the free route,

I’ve been working with PowerPoint and

A YouTube tutorial on how to create the videos.

 

While I completed two very rough and unprofessional-looking videos on Sunday afternoon,

I decided on Tuesday that I didn’t like one of them because the timing just wasn’t right for teaching.

So yesterday afternoon, I stayed late at work and tried to update the video.

 

I may have gotten mad and thrown a little fit.

If anyone had been around, then they may have heard me yelling at the computer.

I may have frustratingly watched the video tutorial again and fussed at PowerPoint for not working as the tutor showed.

I may have hit my computer keys harder and harder in hopes that the pressure would somehow make something work.

It wasn’t my finest moment.

 

On Tuesday afternoon during car rider duty,

We had a parent get out of his car and angrily declare,
“Your system sucks!”

As the team and I discussed his outburst,

We likened it to parents on the sidelines of sports-games,

Not really knowing how things work,

But thinking they know best.

We determined that sports ball gives people permission to yell—

That it’s normal for persons to let out frustrations during sports ball games and

That, unless the comments start fights, it’s socially acceptable to do so.  

 

I don’t watch much sports ball,

So I don’t have many sanctioned opportunities to yell.

But I think, maybe, we must all need to yell ever so often—

That we all need to release anger and aggravations in loud, guttural ways,

Maybe like a war cry,

Maybe like the wailing and gnashing of teeth.

 

And so…

I yelled at the computer.

And we yell at spilled coffee.

And animals.

And other drivers.

And people we love.

They aren’t our finest moments,

But they are precisely what make us human,

And connect us together,

And call for grace.

 

God, thank you for common threads of humanity, even when they’re ugly. And thank you, God, that in our ugliness, you love us, and teach us, and allow us to have success at little things like making lyric videos and drinking coffee. Amen. 

Gift from Monica

 I love getting mail.

Even packages from the Amazon and the E-bay excite me.

Half of the time, I don’t remember what I’ve ordered,

So opening packages is always fun.

But it’s especially fun when a package arrives from a friend—

Completely unexpected.

 

That’s what happened to me on Saturday.

After being away from home all day,

I came home to find a package waiting for me

From my friend and fellow Meredith French horn major, Monica.

Monica and I keep in touch via Facebook posts and Christmas cards.

But the last time we personally talked was months ago and that was about getting our horns cleaned.

 

As I looked at and felt the package, I racked my brain as to what was inside.

It was soft and squishy and so probably not something to do with the horn—

I had no idea what it was!

When I opened the package, I found two beautiful, handmade coasters.

I immediately knew that Monica had made them.

Monica is super talented with her horn, with yarn, with other crafty things, and with her camera.

 

And then I opened the note.

This wasn’t a fundraiser.

Monica wasn’t asking for a donation.

Monica was simply writing me and sending a little gift to say that she valued our continued friendship and that she was thinking of me.

Wow!

What a gift!

I’m still so humbled that I don’t know what to say.

 

Except…

Keep in touch with your people, friends.

In a world where disconnection is so very easy,

Make sure to make connections however and whenever possible.

A text.

A direct message.

A phone call.

A note at work.

A hug.

Real mail.

It may take a bit of time and effort,

But that time and effort are worth it when they brighten the day of someone you love.

 

Dear God: Thank you for Monica, her card and gift, our continued friendship and respect for one another, and for the ability to add joy to someone’s life. May we all be joy-bearers, in whatever way feels most natural and right to us. Amen.  

Plans Thrown Out The Window

 On Monday, I wrote: “…I’m not 100% sure what to do with the [self-contained] class for the rest of the year. My students cover a wide age-range, and it is hit and miss as to when they’ll be with me and when they’ll be with their reg. ed. peers. Those two things combined, it’s difficult to know how to plan.”

 

That being said, I made a plan for class this week. But as soon as we got into the plan, I threw it out the window.

 

I had four boys this week—only one the same from last week. And each of them was in his own world.

 

I had planned to do a modified 2^nd grade lesson on “Stars and Stripes Forever” where we would play our sticks and do motions and march around the room. What actually happened was that one boy walked around the room playing with a ribbon; he loves ribbons. Another played a drum with pencil drumsticks. Another tried to do what I asked him to do. And the other decided he wanted to play the trombone. He saw it on the recording and mimicked the motion even though he didn’t know the word.

 

So what did I do? I went into the closet and got out the trombone.

 

You need to understand that I would LOVE for all of my students to have the opportunity to play a brass instrument. It’s just not possible with one instrument and 20 kids’ germs.

 

But I figured with four kids? Why not!

 

And so we played the trombone!

 

Ribbon Boy and Drum Boy and Following Directions Boy all took their turns trying to get a sound out of the trombone. Drum boy succeeded, playing with puffy little cheeks and a smile. I have no idea how he did that. But he really did have a smile on his face while he played. The other two did not succeed. But that’s okay. They tried.

 

And Trombone Boy? Once he got the hang of playing, he did really well! I even started “Stars and Stripes Forever” again and let him play along. He was having such a great time! And Drum Boy kept saying, “He’s doing it! He’s doing it!” He was so proud of his friend.

 

I realize that I may be getting out the trombone for every class for awhile. And that’s okay. Because my students were having a good time and they were engaging with music.

 

But the question still remains: To plan or not to plan? I guess I’ll have to continue playing it by ear to and see what happens.

 

Dear God: Thank you for trombones and smiling children and the ability to think on my feet. Help us all to adapt to the situations in which we find ourselves and help us to create positive opportunities for growth. Amen.

Least Restrictive Environment

 In the education world, there is something called the Least Restrictive Environment (LRE). The LRE is not necessarily a physical location, rather it is a concept that guides the education of students with special needs. The LRE is determined by an Individualized Education Plan (IEP) that is developed by a team of educators and the student’s parents/guardians who review the strengths, weaknesses, and needs of the student and consider the educational benefits from placement in a particular educational setting. Three of the most common types of LREs are the general education classroom with pull-out, push-in, or other supports; the partial mainstream/inclusion classroom; and the self-contained special education classroom, but many students fall on a spectrum somewhere between the three. The goal is for every student to be with his/her peers as much as possible, as long as they are in an environment where they can safely learn both academic and social skills.

 

For many students, the Least Restrictive Environment for lunch, recess, and enrichment classes is with regular education peers. What this means for me is that all of my students are mainstreamed into a regular education classroom for music so that they are exposed to music concepts that are on grade level…BUT…this year, it also means that some of my self-contained students receive an extra music class geared specifically toward them.  

 

But I know this: I saw my students’ faces light up and their bodies begin to move in pure happiness when the music started. Their teacher said it was the happiest she’d seen them and beamed with love and pride as she watched them march around the room playing their sticks. For those moments, they were totally in their element—not restricted—and learning. And for those moments, I got to be part of something beautiful.

 

Dear God: Thank you for music. And thank you for educational policies that ensure that all students, regardless of race, socio-economic status, academic ability, or physical ability, receive a free and appropriate public education. Thank you for public education, for how it transforms lives, and for giving teachers the ability to influence lives in a positive way. Guide us, as teachers, as we seek to create Least Restrictive Environments for all who walk into our classrooms and help us to make a difference where we are. Give us wisdom when we don’t know what we’re doing and give us strength when what we’re doing is hard. Grant us rest today, on this Labor Day, and fill us with everything we need to return to the classroom tomorrow. We can do this together, God. Amen. 

Writing on the Ground

 Believe it or not, I remember one time in high school when I had a really bad cold. It must have been around Christmas time because the Christmas candle was shining in the window. I woke up in the middle of the night, coughing, nose stopped up, feeling generally miserable, not able to sleep. As I lay in bed trying to breathe, I began to wonder if Jesus had ever felt that way. After all, Jesus was both fully God and fully human, right?

 

Fast forward a few years. I was on a summer mission team in the NC Mountains. The team had been asked to help with The Happiness Retreat, a one-week camp for adults with physical and mental disabilities. At that point in my life, I didn’t have much experience working with persons with disabilities, so the beginning of the week was very hard for me. I remember watching the campers eat spaghetti on the first night and observing how difficult it was for them to get the food on their forks and into their mouths. I didn’t know how to help or if I should help or what to talk about or anything. Late one night, guitar in hand, I went outside to pray. While I prayed, I began to wonder if Jesus had ever felt like me—uncertain, heartbroken, but willing. After all, Jesus was both fully God and fully human, right?

 

While the gospels don’t mention a time when Jesus caught cold, they do mention a time when Jesus didn’t know what to say.

 

You have most likely heard the story. It’s the story of the woman caught in adultery. In this story, Jesus reminds us as the accusers that we have no right to cast the first stone while he reminds us as the accused that there is no condemnation in Christ. But the part that intrigues me is the part where Jesus bends down and writes on the ground. There is much speculation on what Jesus wrote, but maybe what he wrote doesn’t matter, because maybe what he was writing wasn’t anything of significance. Maybe he bent down because he was trying to think of what to say. After all, the Pharisees were trying to trick him and he needed to choose his words carefully. What better way to fill time than to doodle? And what better way to pray than to bend toward the ground?

 

Oh God, thank you for understanding our humanness—for getting hungry and tired and crying and not knowing what to say. Guide our words and actions and help us to follow you—you who knows exactly how we feel. Amen.