Making A Difference

Making A Difference…3.12.15

Tuesday night in counseling, Joe asked me why I do the work that I do. I thought for a moment and then said, "This is going to sound so stereotypical, but I guess it’s because I want to make a difference."

I then went on to say that I often doubt how much of a difference I am really making as an elementary music teacher. I said, "I know I can love the kids while I have them, but then they go to middle school and high school and have so much to deal with, and, really, how much is elementary music going to influence those?"

Joe said, "If I'd have had an elementary music teacher like you, then I probably wouldn't carry the scar that I carry. My music teacher's name was Mr. C and he used to throw chalk at us when we played our notes wrong. I was afraid of him. He made a mark on me--a lasting impression--something that I've had to undo. If I'd have had a teacher like you, then that wouldn't have happened."

I said, "So I can have a positive influence on someone by not doing something negative? I've never thought about it like that."

I've been thinking about it for the past couple of days. Making a positive difference by not doing something negative. Doing something good by not doing something bad. Offering a safe space to grow that isn't necessarily memorable but that is real--that holds kids as they grow and allows them to grow even if they don't remember the growing--that doesn't cut them down or stifle them in any way.

My best friend once asked me if I remembered learning to read. I said no. She said, "Me either. We must not have had trouble learning to read. I remember learning math because I struggled with it. But I never struggled with reading. It's just something I learned to do."

Maybe that's what making a difference looks like for me. Providing experiences for kids to learn even when they don't remember the learning. Providing time for kids to be kids even when they don't look back on their lives and remember me or elementary music.

I guess part of me has always wanted to be that teacher that people look back and say was their favorite. There's pride for you. But I guess maybe that's not what it's about. I guess maybe making a difference doesn't mean being remembered but providing love that helps a kid get through the day...moment by moment...step by step…until they meet other people who will do the same. I guess maybe making a difference is walking a kid to the front of the breakfast line when he is in tears and all he can say is, “I’m just so hungry,” because the last meal he had was school lunch the day before.

Don't get me wrong. I know that for some kids elementary music is very influential. Some of my former students have gone on to have careers in music and others remember specific experiences they had in class.

But for most--for the thousands rather than the handful--my class will just be part of their existence. Likely not identifiably life-changing. Which, I'm learning to believe, is okay.

God knows that I know how difficult it is to undo the wrongs done to us in the past. Maybe you know of those difficulties, too? So I will seek not to wrong my students--not to tell them that they cannot sing or play or make music--no matter how bad they are--not to scar them--not to leave them with anything they must undo in the future...and leave them only with love.

We've been singing, "When I Survey The Wondrous Cross" at church during lent. One of the lyrics that's been going through my mind all week is, "Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast, save in the death of Christ my God. All the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to His blood...Love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all."

It sounds so simple here. Love: amazing, divine. Love: my soul, my life, my all.

Love: really is what makes a difference.
And what I want to do.
Day in and day out.
Quiet. Steady. Stubborn. Positive. True…