90 Minutes

 

Once upon a time, 

There was a woman named 90 Minutes. 

90 Minutes got her name by spending 90 minutes of a 405-minute class talking. 

She dominated conversation

With stories, interruptions, and certainties that contradicted even the professor. 

When others spoke,

She didn’t receive their words. 

And so they wrote. 

And thought. 

And breathed. 

And prayed. 

And remembered a wise sage’s words:

She can be your teacher. 

Pay attention to what you can learn. 

 

And so they learned, 

With 90 minutes as their guide. 

 

They learned to remember that there are people who are truly opposite from them. Some people really care about scholarly things like history and word origin and statistics and data. When you don’t, you still need to give a scholarly nod to those who do. 

 

They learned to remember that some people process out loud and/or struggle with boundaries and/or self-awareness.

 

They learned to remember that some people have deep wounds that come out in wonky ways.

 

They learned to recognize that stress levels increase in their bodies when they hear crinkling snack wrappers and crunching during the middle of class. 

 

They learned to recognize but not judge their pride. 

 

They learned to identify their judgmental limits.

 

And they learned that, in general, they really are gracious people who give others the benefit of the doubt. And when they can’t, they at least have the intention of grace. And that intention can go a long way. 

 

Yes, they learned. 

And 90 minutes was their guide. 

 

She taught them everything they were not expecting to learn. 

 

And more. 

 

The end. 

Modify and Adapt

 

Today is my 47th birthday.

And on this 47th birthday,

I want to share a little piece of wisdom that I received from Barb My First Art Teacher at the end of my 47th year:

 

We must modify and adapt.

 

When Barb and I first began our teaching careers,

We went to the local Walmart and each bought little tool kits.

The whole set of tools was only $4.98, and they were magnetic!

I can’t tell you how many times B and I have used our tools over the years.

Through all our schools,

All our classrooms,

And all our years,

Our tools have been with us,

Offering their help and assistance.

 

While my tools have remained in tact,

My toolbox itself has broken.

It’s a little blue box with a broken handle and latch,

But I kept it because it reminds me of B.

 

Well, I was at Lidl a couple weeks ago,

I saw a new black toolbox that I knew would hold my tools perfectly.

Not wanting to betray Barb,

I wrote and asked if she still had her little blue toolbox.

She responded that she still had the tools but that but she wasn’t sure where the box was.

I shared my sentimental dilemma.

She responded,

“You have to modify and adapt.”

 

And that was that.

 

I bought the black toolbox.

 

It’s no secret that I attach feelings to objects.

It’s no secret that I have trouble getting rid of things because of this attachment.

But maybe this year, little by little,

I will be able to modify and adapt,

To let go and move on.

 

God: Thank you for life, and thank you for another year of lessons learned and lessons yet to learn. Help me, God, as I continue to learn to modify and adapt, to let go and move on. Help me to use my time and resources in ways that honor life, for you are the Life-Giver who makes all things possible. Amen.

 

Teacher

 

Everything and everyone can be a teacher—

Not a career educator—

But a teacher—

One who teaches something.

 

A few months ago, I was taking a weekend theology course,

And one of the participants dominated the class.

She had a story for everything,

Spoke as if she knew it all, and

Tried to argue with the professor on what he was teaching,

When clearly she didn’t understand.

It got to the point that I stopped listening when she spoke

And instead tried to steady my breathing and breathe out grace.

It didn’t work very well,

But I still tried.

When Joe The Counselor asked about the weekend,

I didn’t respond with the ways in which the professor had challenged me

Or the things that I had learned.

Instead, I spoke about the annoying woman

And how much she had gotten under my skin.

Joe said, “She was your teacher.”

She was teaching you patience and humility.”

I said, “I don’t think I learned anything.”

And yet, I understood.

Anytime we are put into a situation in which we are uncomfortable,

We are given the opportunity to practice the skills in which we are lacking.

 

Most recently, I went gem mining.

I bought the bucket of dirt and shared it with the two kids I was with.

As they excitedly scooped dirt into their sifters and found gem after gem,

I noticed myself feeling unsettled.

They were finding more gems than me,

And they were going much faster than me.

“I hope they’re not throwing away gems,” I thought.

“I bought that bucket,” I thought, “I should get all the gems.”

“What in the world, Deaton?” I responded to myself.

“You have done this tons of times. You have a whole bucket of gems at home that you’re doing nothing with. They are having a great time! They are experiencing the joy of what you love so much. Why are you being like this?” I scolded myself.

“Oh…The kid in you is jealous…” I realized.

And then I was able to soothe that kid and return to the somewhat reasonable adult that I am.

Almost immediately, those two kids and that bucket of dirt had become my teachers.

 

 

Who or what are your teachers these days?

What are they teaching you?

 

Oh God: When we feel uncomfortable. When our thoughts start going into negative space. Help us to stop and be curious. Help us to ask ourselves what teachers are trying to teach us and help us to discern what lessons we need to hear and practice. We will never completely conquer patience. Or humility. Or jealousy. Or anger. Or pride. Or any other vice or virtue. So help us to remember your love and grace as we practice living into goodness. And God? Help us not to miss that goodness…for goodness abounds…even in the midst of our deepest shortcomings and stupidities…goodness abounds. Amen.

Music

 

It was a weekend of music for me.

Friday was the first ever Elementary Honors Chorus Clinic during the day.

Friday night was Amelia-the-Niece’s girls choir concert with the Raleigh Symphony Orchestra.

Saturday was the Lee County Arts Festival,

Including the Elementary Honors Chorus performance.

And yesterday was Charlie-the-Nephew’s All-State Band concert in Greensboro.

I feel very cultured!

 

I walked away from the weekend with a few thoughts:

 

Musicians tend to be resilient. One of the Elementary Honors Chorus students got too hot, locked her knees, and passed out. Two songs after she left stage, she walked back onto stage and finished the concert sitting down. Everyone clapped.

 

Musicians tend to be kind and encouraging. Even though the competition is stiff for a spot in an honors band, once a person makes it in, they tend to be encouraged by the other people in the band. During the middle school performance yesterday, a couple of trombonists had solos. After they finished, another trombonist gave each of them fist bumps to tell them they did a good job. It made me smile.

 

Musicians tend to know how to work together. Evidently, at the rehearsal for Amelia’s concert, the orchestra and the choir weren’t balanced. So, the orchestra worked to play quieter, and on the night of the performance, the two groups sounded amazing together.

 

Musicians tend to come together from all walks of life to focus on common good. It’s really a beautiful thing to hear and watch.

 

And…on a different note (pun intended)…audience members can be very rude with talking and gum smacking. Please do not smack your gum in the middle of a classical music concert—or ever 😊.

 

Music makes this world a better place.

 

May we all learn to be

Resilient

Kind

Encouraging

Able to work with others

Part of something bigger than ourselves

Good

And non-gum smacking.

 

Amen.

Automatic Flusher

 

I remember one time many years ago when I accompanied a five-year-old to the bathroom.

She was doing her business when the automatic flusher flushed.

It scared her half to death and real tears were shed.

I don’t like automatic flushers.

They often interrupt you rather than giving you the time and space that you need.

And they are loud.

And they are forceful.

I think sometimes we are automatic flushers.

When someone is sharing difficult thoughts and emotions with us, we cut them off and clean them up before they are finished or given the time that they need to process.

We mean well.

But in our haste, and often discomfort, we rush to a conclusion when often we need just to sit in silence.

I don’t know about you,

But I don’t want to be an automatic flusher.

Observations of No Voice

 Teaching with no voice is not much fun. It’s made for a frustratingly exhausting week, and it will end tomorrow night with a program that’s looking and sounding about as rough as me.

 

That being said, I haven’t been firing on all cylinders this week, but I’ve had enough brain space to observe the following things:

 

1)    1.  Students with a lisp say, “Five little pumpkins sitting on a gate” as “Five little pumpkins shitting on a gate.” It’s funny.

 

2)    2.  Some students are understanding and kind when you have no voice. Other students are not. Some students make fun of you and call you grandpa when you have no voice while other students stick up for you and defend your honor. Some students ask if you’re okay and give you hugs to feel better when you’re sick. Others do not. Most students fall somewhere in the middle of concern and excitement and then wander around the room and talk/sing really loudly because they know that you will have trouble stopping them.

 

3)     3. Young fast-food workers are often not properly trained and are paid so little that many have little to no motivation to go above and beyond and figure things out on their own. Twice now, I’ve waited for over 30 minutes at one particular restaurant in the past few weeks. Most recently, when I went inside, an older worker was standing there with her arms crossed. When I said I’d been waiting outside for thirty minutes, she simply rolled her eyes and said, “That’s what you get when you put a bunch of young people in here.” I thought to myself, “Maybe. Or maybe they’ve learned from you.” Children must be carefully taught. We can’t assume that they know or know how to do anything. Contrary to popular belief, teenagers are just big kids. Rules, procedures, routines, customer service, content area—all of it—children must be carefully taught.

 

Oh God: Help us to teach our children well. Help us to teach them a strong work ethic, to be considerate of persons who are sick, and to speak well. And God? Help me to get my voice back so that I can use it for good. In fact, help all of us to use our voices for good. Amen. 

Loyal to Suffering

“We are loyal to our suffering,” she said.

“What do you mean?” he said.

“Our human nature is geared toward struggling,” she said.
“And society tries to convince us that
we must always live in fear.”

“But how does that make us loyal to suffering?” he said.

“In the absence of fear or struggle,” she said,
“In the presence of contentment and courage—
We are led to believe that something is wrong.”

“Go on,” he said.

“We find something to worry about,” she said.
“We create something to fear because it feels right.
We are loyal to our suffering.”

“Oh,” he said.
“But that’s not how it’s supposed to be.”

“No,” she said.
“The journey is learning to be fully present
exactly where we are.”

“In bad times and good,” he said.

“Yes,” she said.
“The journey is falling into Peace
And trusting That which passes understanding.”

“Even when it means being okay that things are going okay?” he said.

“Even when it means being okay that things are going okay!” she said.

“Thanks,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” she said.
“Now go be disloyal to suffering.
Go live into Peace.”

The World When Jesus Was Alive

And I keep having this one thought: There were Native American persons living, breathing, and tending the land that became the United States of America…while Jesus was living, breathing, and tending the souls of people across the world.

I can’t explain why. But this thought has hijacked my mind and it’s pretty much all I can think about this Advent season.

It fascinates me.

It puts new perspective on the Great Commission—on the call to go into all the world and share the gospel of Jesus Christ.

What WAS all the world in the disciple’s minds? Jesus never went beyond 200 miles from home. We know from Paul’s journeys that people knew about Rome…and we know from other stories that Ethiopia and Egypt were on the map…so we can guess that there was a general understanding of European, Asian, and African lands. But just how much of the rest of the world was even imagined when Jesus was alive? Australia? South America? North America?

And to think that persons on those continents had NO IDEA that a man named Jesus existed…and yet, now, all these years later, Jesus is known around the world…one man, one young life, one sacrifice, known by most of humankind.

It blows my mind.

What is something that has blown your mind recently? What is something that you’ve learned? What is something on your mind today? I’d love to hear.

Who Cares?

If you were at Antioch yesterday morning, then you heard a somewhat diverse set of music. We started with a modern praise song, led by the praise team, and then we went directly into a congregational rendition of “Victory in Jesus.” Next we moved to another congregational favorite of “Just A Closer Walk With Thee,” followed by a very unique, somewhat high church, full of intricate, sometimes dissonant harmonies, choral arrangement of “Abide With Me.” We ended with one verse of “Blest Be The Tie.”

While I was very pleased with the choir’s rendition of “Abide With Me”—it was tough and we had worked really hard to prepare it for worship—and while I always enjoy singing “Victory In Jesus”—after all, it was one of the title songs of my former band—and while the girls of the praise team did a good job introducing a new song—what really hit me yesterday was “Just A Closer Walk With Thee.”

As I was standing in the pulpit singing, I suddenly caught myself smiling and thinking, “Yes!! This!! I hope everyone in the congregation and the world is listening!! This is so important!! Did you hear it, people?! You just sang something HUGE!!”

And what was it that evoked double exclamation marks after every thought?

“Through this world of toil and snares,
If I falter, Lord, who cares?
Who with me my burden shares?
None but Thee, dear Lord, none but Thee.”

Did you catch that?! Really catch that?!

The world is full of toil and snares, speed-bumps and potholes, obstacles and heartaches, failures and heartbreaks, injustice and bigotry, judgment and condemnation, mean people and meaner people, and all kinds of other mayhem that will trip us up. With every feeling of safety. With every risk we take. With any attempt at anything at all, we run the risk of success or failure. And guess what? We’re going to mess up as many times as we get it right! We’re going to goof as many times as we reach near-perfection. We’re going to falter as many times as we experience clear-sailing! But…who cares?!

Really? Who cares?!

What does it matter?!

We’re still alive.
We’re still human.
We’re still able to move forward on life’s journey.

So who cares if we falter??
Really? Who cares?!

Because, in the end, the God who created us and loves us is the same God who never leaves or forsakes us—faltering or not. The same God who created the universe and offers redemption to the world is the same God who shares our heartaches and burdens—willingly surrendered or not.

I don’t know about you, friend, but this all makes me smile and sets a little part of me free.

Maps and Puzzles

I first realized that kids were fascinated by maps when I taught at Erwin. I don’t remember what I was trying to teach, but I vividly remember standing in front of the map in my classroom and fielding question after question in rapid fire succession. I kept trying to steer us back to something somewhat musical, but I finally just gave up and answered my students’ questions.

Over ten years later—the world more technologically advanced than ever—kids still love maps. Not Google maps. Not Google earth. Not the GPS. But pull down, jump-in-fright-if-the-map-rolls-up-unexpectedly, topographical, political, geographical, continental, country, or state maps. In fact, the kids love maps so much that I have two huge maps permanently hanging in my classroom so that students can look at them whenever they want.

That being said, most kids—and I dare say most adults—are woefully ignorant when it comes to geography. I feel okay saying this because I, myself am woefully ignorant when it comes to geography. But. I’m happy to report that I’m getting better! And here is why:

I’m practicing.
And I’m practicing because I’m teaching.
And I’m teaching because the kids are interested.
The kids are interested in maps and the kids are interested in composers’ deaths and gravesites and the kids are interested in puzzles. Weird. I know.

One of the songs that I use as a springboard for a unit that focuses on basic geographical skills is “Hello To All The Children of the World.” In short, the song introduces the word “hello” in nine different languages from nine different countries: England, France, Spain, Australia, Germany, Japan, Italy, Israel, and Russia. [England’s and Spain’s languages, of course, cover America and Mexico as well]. As I’ve pointed to each of these countries on the map, I’ve learned where they are (not that they are overly difficult to find), and in the process I have paid attention to the countries around them. Not only that, I have watched a Little Big Shots video clip of Nathan-The-Four-Year-Old reciting all of the countries of Africa in under a minute.

So when I saw “The Global Puzzle” at Barnes and Noble last week, and the box challenged me to see if I could put together the puzzle without looking at the picture, I knew that I had to accept the challenge. With my mom. I don’t do puzzles without my mom.

My mom put together the border, North America, and Australia. Together, we sorted what we thought were the countries of Africa, Europe, Asia, and South America. After we sorted, we began putting together the continents. And it was hard—not because we’d sorted wrong but because we didn’t know where exactly the countries went on each continent! At one point, I gave up on country placement and moved to my puzzle forte: puzzle shape placement. Two hours after we started, combining both of our talents, mom and I had the world together. Now we will glue it together and I will take it to school where my students will think it incredibly fascinating.

There, I will add it to my classroom of real maps and globes—did I mention that I have seven globes in my room?—and I will continue in my attempt to teach my students basic geographical skills so that they won’t grow up geographically ignorant.

Now. Go find a map and locate a country about which you’ve always wondered. Then tell me about it. I’d sure like to know.

Ugly Shoes

Dr. Smith starts every class with a metaphor.

If I were following her lead and starting class tonight, then tonight’s metaphor would be my shoes.

I would place my shoes in front of the class and ask everyone to come up with the metaphor.

After a few moments of silence, everyone would start sharing their thoughts. I would be grateful for the thoughts and celebrate each insight, but the insight that I would most want to hear would be something like this:

If you don’t regularly care for your shoes, then they will dry out, crack, and end up looking and feeling rough and being difficult to restore. The same goes for your body and spirit.

Something I don’t talk about a lot is the fact that I pray for my shoes when I buy them. I pray that God will use them to help me bless the places I go and the people I see while wearing them. I also pray that God will honor the money I’ve spent because I hate spending money on myself—yet I believe in wearing quality shoes because I’m on my feet so much.

I bought these particular shoes over a decade ago. I’ve worn them a lot—though I only have one specific memory of wearing them before today: Spray painting rhythm sticks silver for Harnett Off Broadway while working at Erwin Elementary. I don’t remember which year’s performance needed those sticks, but I remember having on these shoes because they got showered with spray paint residue and subsequently sparkled for a long time afterward. I was not impressed.

What I will remember about wearing these shoes today is this: One of my coworkers looked at my feet at the end of the day and said, “Deaton! Those shoes look rough! They must have been through a lot.”

Since it’s Thursday, I could have easily answered yes. I have often left school on Thursdays feeling like I would quit if given the opportunity. My patience and energy have been sucked out of me and I have been left feeling rough. But today, contrary to the appearance of my shoes, I didn’t feel that way. I was tired, yes. My weeks are long. But I felt okay.

Tonight, when I got home, somewhat embarrassed by the declaration about my shoes but moreso glad to have a few hours at home before bedtime, I polished my shoes. I decided to change their reality.

A couple of weeks ago, after a particularly rough Thursday, I decided to change my reality. I decided that I had to shift my spirit lest I constantly be in a state of cracked ugliness—especially on Thursday afternoons.

Shoe polish helped my shoes. Prayer, deep breathing, picking my battles, accepting my boundaries, and calling on the name of Jesus helped my spirit.

Are my shoes now back in perfect condition? No. Are my Thursdays now wonderful? No. But both are better because both have been tended to.

I think I’ll try to tend more often and more intentionally. And I think I’ll keep my eyes open for more metaphors. I think it will make Dr. Smith proud.

Blind Inspiration

“Welcome to Stacey B. and Deanna!”

I chucked when I read that statement on the white board last Thursday night. Stacey and I had gone to speak to this semester’s Special Needs class at Campbell and the professor had welcomed us with those words. I felt a bit like a rock-star with the one word name, but I made sure to let the class know that, despite my rock-star looks, I wasn’t actually a rock-star. I was, instead, just an elementary music teacher serving as chauffer to the guest of honor for the night: a vision impaired teaching hero.

I wrote about my adventures with Stacey after she helped me with a presentation last semester. That night, we went to the Walmart and Stacey amazed me with her knowledge of the store. She has the aisles memorized. This past Thursday night, however, we simply went out to eat. I took her to the local Mexican restaurant and we had a delicious meal together. Like last semester, we had a great time, and I went to bed that night with a deeper respect for someone for whom I already had great respect.

For Stacey, not being able to see is normal. Born prematurely, she received too much oxygen in the incubator that saved her life but left her blind. When her twin sister began reaching for things and tracking objects with her eyes, Stacey did not. It was then that her parents realized that something was wrong and that her parents decided that they would be her biggest advocate. When schools told them that they could not teach Stacey because she was blind, Stacey’s parents said, “Yes you will.” Stacey went to “regular” public schools her entire life, then proceeded to a “regular” college, and then earned her master’s degree from a “regular” university. When others were out partying, Stacey was scanning pages of textbooks so that her computer could read them to her. When others were skimming hundreds of pages of reading, Stacey was listening to them all—unable to skim without the ability to see—listening as fast as she could but still being limited by the speed of the computer.

Stacey has a “regular” teaching degree. She did her student teaching in “regular” elementary school classroom, but she has chosen to teach vision impaired students the technological and life skills that they need to succeed in the world. No doubt, current technology makes things a bit less complicated for students today, yet things are still not nearly as easy as they are for those of us who can see.

Take, for instance, eating. While preparing for last Thursday night’s class, Stacey and I decided that it would be fun to ask the students to eat cake off of a small place. Stacey confessed that this is always difficult—especially in places where you are often expected to stand—like wedding receptions and other celebratory events. Stacey made the cake and provided the forks. The professor provided the plates and napkins. The students in class all struggled to get the cake on their forks and get the forks to their mouths without making a mess. They said they felt helpless, frustrated, and overwhelmed. I caught myself wanting to cheat—and I caught myself thinking, “I’ll just wait to finish my piece of cake when I can see again—because then it won’t be so hard and messy.”

For Stacey, eating without seeing has been her life’s reality. So is it more difficult for a seeing person to suddenly take away her sense of sight and expect her to be successful at a task? Maybe so. But the lesson was real nonetheless: There are so many things we take for granted.

Driving. Walking freely. Reading the directions on the side of the cake box. Reading a menu. Seeing in color. Seeing the face of a loved one. Seeing the crinkly little feet of a newborn baby. Dreaming in color. Watching a movie. Watching a game. Being able to avoid running over your dad who is working on the lawnmower in the yard while you are riding your bike (this is one of my favorite stories from Stacey’s childhood—she forgot that he was working in the yard and rode her bike right over him!)

Again, for Stacey, not being able to see is what she has always known. She has learned to live her life in such a way that she sees everything she needs to see. She would never want anyone to feel sorry for her or treat her any differently than we would treat a non-vision-impaired person. And yet…I must admit that Stacey inspires me…and she challenges me not to take the simplest things in life for granted…not even the knowledge of knowing that there is food on my fork when I place it in my mouth.

Who is someone who inspires you and challenges you to life to the fullest? Make sure you tell him/her thank you today.

Spelling Bee Cooperation

Today was the annual school spelling-bee and my fourth year serving as pronouncer for the event. I really enjoy this job, but it’s surprisingly difficult.

Each year, the national spell bee people produce an official list of spelling bee words, complete with word origin, pronunciation, part of speech, definition, and sentence. If the word is a homonym or one that sounds like another word, then the pronouncer must share that information. All other information is up to pronouncer discretion or shared upon participant request.

While the words are in a formal list, each school has freedom to select which words it will use. Additionally, each participant is given a number and referred to as that number for the entire bee. Since one never knows if a participant will get his/her word correct, one cannot pre-number the words.

Therefore, the pronouncer must keep track of which word she is on, who the word belongs to (by number), if the participant gets the word right or wrong, how the information will influence other rounds, what round she is in, etc. I was reading, calling, marking, and making notes all at the same time.

Again, I enjoyed it, but it was surprisingly difficult. I’m glad I am fairly organized.

Each year’s bee is different. Sometimes the kids are nervous. Sometimes they are not. Sometimes the kids are dressed up. Sometimes they are not. Sometimes lots of kids get out quickly. Sometimes they do not. Sometimes the final battle lasts for a long time. Sometimes it does not. Sometimes a champion is immediately declared. Sometimes it is not. Sometimes the championship word is missed and a winner cannot be declared until another final battle has been fought and another championship word has been announced.

What made this year’s bee unique, though, was the camaraderie that the participants shared. Once it got down to just a few participants, they were openly cheering for one another—giving each other high fives and fist bumps. They wanted their competitors to spell their words correctly. They wanted to see each other succeed.

Yes. The spelling bee is a competition. Yes. Each kid wanted to win. But the view from the pronouncers chair today was one of little animosity and lots of good cheer and, well, it made this pronouncer smile…and have to look up how to spell camaraderie just to complete this note .

What I Learned Today

I learned something today: I wouldn’t make a very good ISS teacher.

On Field Day, my job is to help cover the re-focus station with Barb The Art Teacher.

Instead of being firm and strict with the students who come our way, though, I usually end up talking to them and giving them the individual attention that they crave.

This happened today when I began talking to a student about math and ended up sitting with him and discussing the vocabulary in a beehive book. It was actually a very good book. I learned that bees put nectar in cells and leave it there to dry, thus making honey!

To hear Barb talk about it, I was patting the student on the back, saying a lot of “Good job, sweetie’s,” and filling the room with rainbows and butterflies :-).

I’m not sure about all of that! But it’s true, friends. I wouldn’t be a good ISS teacher.

What about you, friends? What have you learned recently? About yourself or the world? I’d love to hear!

God of Light and Wisdom,
thank you for giving us
minds that can know
and hearts that can love.

Help us to keep learning every day of our lives--
no matter what the subject may be.
Let us be convinced that all knowledge leads to you
and let us know how to find you and love you
in all the things you have made.

Encourage us when life is difficult
and when we are tempted to give up.
Enlighten us when our brains are slow
and help us grasp the truth held out each day.

Grant us the grace to put our knowledge to use
in building the kingdom of God on earth
so that we may enter the kingdom of God in heaven.
Amen.

Dresses, Continents, and Students--Oh My!

5th grade music today:
I’m trying to explain the concept of culture so that my students understand more of the differences that they will hear and see during the lesson.
I explain what “culture” I know best, setting up the explanation by telling my students that my dad is a preacher and that I have, therefore, been to a lot of different churches in my life.
“There are some churches that I’ve been to where, if I, as a female, would have worn pants, then I would have been out of place. The culture of those churches is one where people are expected to wear their very best and women are expected to wear dresses. There are other churches that I’ve been to, though, where I could wear jeans and it be perfectly acceptable. Neither of those things is wrong. It’s just a different belief system—a different way of doing things—a different culture.”
The kids seemed to understand what I saying, so we moved on.
Then a kid raised his hand.
“Do you remember when you were talking about the church that didn’t want women wearing pants? That’s because it’s in the Bible that women shouldn’t have anything between their legs.”
Umm…I’ve heard a lot of things that the Bible says that the Bible really doesn’t say, but I’ve never heard that one!
Trying to keep a straight face and not show my surprise and possible dismay, I very calmly responded, “That’s actually not in the Bible—at least not the Christian bible—but…” and then I quickly moved the conversation to how clothing has changed over the years and reminded the boys that boys used to wear gowns to bed. We’d learned this fact while learning about Beethoven.

Fast forward to 3rd grade music:
I’ve been trying to help my 3rd graders learn their continents, only they get really confused about the difference between city, state, country, and continent. I’m also trying to help them learn their planets—but we haven’t focused on the latter as much.
We’ve been working with information about the continents for a couple of weeks now, though. We’ve sung and danced and rapped and watched videos and played games.
So toward the end of the lesson today, as I was transitioning to the planets, I suppose I shouldn’t have been shocked at what happened next.
I said, “So. We know that there are seven continents on our planet. But remind me what planet we live on?”
In response, I had a whole bunch of students yell, “North America!”
In that moment, I gently hit my forehead and asked again, “What planet do we live on?”
“The United States of America!” “No,” I pitifully shook my head and asked one more time, “ What planet do we live on?”
Then someone said, “Earth! We live on planet earth!”
Thank God!

Friends:
My school is in the city of Cameron in the state of North Carolina in the country of The United States of America on the continent of North America on planet Earth.
And the Bible says nothing about women wearing dresses because women are not supposed to have anything between their legs.
Please pass along this information as you see fit.
Especially to the children in your life!
:-)

Bells and Cups and Singing, Oh My

Harnett Off-Broadway.
Four nights. March. Every year.
Harnett County’s Annual Celebration of the Arts.
Every school performs.
One act. 10 minutes.
Up to 45 students.
Nothing is judged. Officially.
But everything is judged. Unofficially.
“I want this year’s performance to be so good that it knocks my socks off.”
A lot of pressure.

Friends: I’m not a flashy person. I know. You’re shocked. I don’t do fancy costumes that can only be worn once. I don’t do catchy show-tunes that have little meaning. I’m too practical for the costumes and I’m too focused with teaching about life to do something that either doesn’t have a theme or doesn’t convey a message.

And so…Harnett Off-Broadway, more affectionately known as HOB, is not my favorite event of the year. I’m always afraid that my school’s performance will disappoint parents and administration. And that’s a lot of pressure for this recovering people pleaser.

The process of selecting HOB music each year is not a fun one for me. I first catch an idea or two from a song or theme and then wait for everything to fall into place. This year in particular, I had three completely different trains of thought but had decided on one of them based on its message and ease of preparation. I had discussed costuming and staging with Barb the Art Teacher and shared my thinking with some of my coworkers…and yet it didn’t feel right. One of the other ideas didn’t feel right either, but the third idea made no sense. I had bits and pieces of a production but nothing to hold it together…until the final piece fell into place.

Ever since we started practicing, I’ve told the kids that if we get this performance right then it’s going to look and sound very simple. Yet it’s not. It’s actually really hard. We’re providing our own accompaniment and singing a solid two columned page full of original lyrics. When everyone is together, I must attempt to conduct three different small groups of children. If one group gets off, then it throws off the others. The song is a recipe for disaster…or a chance to present a great world-premiere. I’m really hoping for the latter.

If it had been up to me and my performance during practice this afternoon, then I would have helped create a disaster. I kept forgetting or singing the wrong words. I kept forgetting when to play what and I kept throwing my cup on the floor. [One group is doing the cup game.] The girls I was standing near kept looking at me and laughing. I deserved it. They have become the pros. I am now the novice. They make it look easy. I made it look like the difficult task that it is.

Our performance is next Thursday night. We still have a lot of work to do in between now and then. But my hope is that my kids will keep learning and that they will keep making the very difficult look easy and that they will remember this experience as a wonderful and possibly formational time in their lives…even if it’s a time that completely stresses their teacher out!

End It: Shed Light On Modern Day Slavery

One of my most vivid memories is of an experience that I had on a women’s retreat in Charleston, SC. Late one night, as I walked through the large yard separating the house from the beach, I looked to the sky and located the big dipper. Almost immediately, I started singing “Follow The Drinking Gourd,” imagining myself as a slave running for freedom, walking under the cover of night, having little more to guide me than a constellation in the sky. I quickly determined that I would have been caught.

I have been teaching “Follow The Drinking Gourd” for many years. It’s one of the units that my students enjoy the most, and this year has been no different. Between an excellent Reading Rainbow video about the song, the real gourds that one of my coworkers gave me, the textbooks, and a super interactive game by National Geographic, I have been able to present information that has truly fascinated and resonated with many of my students.

Since taking some time away from the classroom and working heavily on educating about and fighting against human exploitation, I have found myself fighting back tears more than once when students have breathed a sigh of relief that slavery is no longer legal—or when they’ve asked if slavery still exists and I’ve had to lie to them—or at least highly edit the truth…

…Because the truth is that slavery is still very much alive in this world—this country not excluded.
The truth is that hundreds of thousands of men, women, and children are held against their will, used, beaten, demeaned, destroyed, bought, and sold every day.
The truth is that slaves are brought to America not just from Africa but from destinations around the world.
The truth is that slaves are held in or sent out of America from households just around the corner.
The truth is that the clothes and shoes that we wear and the coffee and chocolate we eat and drink is likely produced by slaves.
The truth is that slaves are not just working in homes and fields but in restaurants, hotels, nail salons, and massage parlors in our own cities.
The truth is that some of my students are vulnerable to becoming slaves themselves—to being lured by the promise of money and a better life but landing instead in invisible chains nearly impossible to break.
The truth is that most of the sex workers that we often condemn and the persons seen in the pornography that many Christians secretly watch and that is creating addictions in children as young as 8-years-old are modern day slaves. Held against their will. Used. Beaten. Demeaned. Destroyed. Bought. Sold. Every day.

But I can’t tell my students that. My students are far too young to hear of these atrocities from their public school music teacher. So I tell them stories of the past and teach them songs of courage and hope and pray that they will grow to learn about and fight the slavery that indeed exists under the drinking gourd and beyond.

Strange

Has anyone ever said something to you that you found so strange that it took you a few days to comprehend?

Joe The Counselor did that to me on Tuesday night.

He suggested that I intentionally do something that I think will bring up feelings of anxiety and guilt so that I can pay attention to what those feelings feel like.

He said that when I start to feel guilty, I should say, “Oh, hey, Gil. You’re here a little sooner than I thought you’d be.” And then see what happens.

I looked at him like he was a bit strange, yet what he said has stuck with me all week.

This afternoon as I was discussing vacation plans with my mom, I heard myself saying something a bit strange:

I think maybe you and dad should just go on and drive to Florida. At least that way you’ll have some control over the situation. Because there’s not really anything you can control right now. The weather. The flights. If you make it to the boat on time. Although…you could just leave everything as is and use this whole experience as an exercise in feeling out of control. Pay attention to feelings that come up. Greet them and then feel them.

My mom didn’t say anything. I could tell she was thinking that I was a bit strange.

Yet, as strange as it sounded, I understood exactly what I was saying.

Every moment.
Every opportunity.
Every experience.
Good or bad.
Planned or unplanned.
Is a chance to learn and grow.
To examine life and observe habits that can be strengthened or let go.
To learn not to harshly judge or condemn but to accept what is.

Sometimes we just have to look at life through a non-traditional lens…strange as that lens may be.

Connections

During my last class on Friday afternoon, one of my students kept giving me a thumbs up. At first, I thought that she was just giving me a thumbs up—as in—“I get it, Ms. Deaton,” or, “You’re doing a great job, Ms. Deaton.” When she kept giving me the thumbs up, though, I started to think, “What if that means something? What if she needs to go to the restroom and she’s trying not to interrupt class?” So I looked at her and asked, “R, are you just giving me a thumbs up or does that mean something?” “It means that I have a connection,” she said. “Oh, okay! Well…what’s your connection?”

“You know what you just read? ‘Cats stayed with cats. Dogs stayed with dogs. Like stayed with like. And that’s just the way that it was.’ That’s segregation,” she connected. “You are exactly right,” I responded, smiling. “And I’ve heard that you guys have been studying about that in class.”

I was proud of that connection. But I was even prouder of the original connection that let me know what she and her grade-mates were studying.

My assistant principal walked into the music hut with her clipboard and computer at the end of what has become one of my difficult classes. The phrases “bouncing off the walls” and “running in circles” could have been coined by the boys in this class. I cringed. Thankfully, the official unannounced observation was for the next class.

Friends: Even though I do nothing different during observations than I do during normal lessons, observations are still no fun. They make me second-guess my every word and action and amplify every student minor offense into major misdemeanor. So when one of my students wandered out of his seat at least 10 times, sometimes telling me things that correlated with the lesson, sometimes not, I began to wonder how my evaluation would be influenced. But then this happened:

“Ms. Deaton. This is just like black people and white people. Black people and white people used to not get along. Just like the cats and dogs didn’t get along.” “You’re exactly right, C. That’s a great connection.”

(Background: We’re working on a program called “The Unity Tree.” In the program, cats and dogs at first hate each other but then learn to get along.)

A few minutes later, I asked C to share his connection with the class. At the moment I asked him, he was distracted by a puzzle on my desk.

(Sidenote: Elementary students are fascinated by 500-1000 piece puzzles.)

But as soon as C heard his name, he stood straight up, faced the class, and clearly and confidently said: “Black people and white people used to not like each other…” (pause) “…until people like Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King, Jr. stood up to stop sl--” (pause with intense thinking face that knew that slavery wasn’t the right word but couldn’t think of the right word) “the stuff.” (pause) “That’s just like the cats and dogs in our program didn’t like each other until someone stood up to say that it was wrong.”

I was so proud of C in that moment that I almost burst. And…that momentous connection had occurred during an observation! Score!

Out of his chair ten times or not, C was paying attention and making connections far beyond anything I actually expected…yet somehow always hope.

Friends: We never know when the words that we say or the things that we do will connect with the eyes, ears, and brains upon which they fall. So may we always act in such a way that when they do, we can celebrate with joy and add the connection to our list of things for which to be grateful instead of our list for which to be ashamed. Amen.

Rhythms, Routines, and Bathroom Breaks

One of my classes was a bit out of sorts this week. As the teacher and I were talking, and she was apologizing to me, she commented that this week had thrown the class out of rhythm. I thought her phrase quite profound, and I knew her phrase to be very true.

I suppose that many occupations depend on a schedule, but I can’t imagine an occupation much more schedule driven than teaching. Our daily schedule, that becomes a routine, is so set that even our bodies start working around it.

At risk of sharing too much information, I confess that my body knows when it can use the bathroom: after morning duty, noon, and just before afternoon duty—and I’m lucky that I have those moments because many teachers do not. I’ve learned that I can have one cup of coffee in the morning but that I shouldn’t drink anything else until lunchtime—which isn’t really healthy, especially for someone who uses her voice all morning. If I stay hydrated, though, then my body betrays me by doing what it is supposed to do and then I have to pee. And if that happens, then, well, I end up doing the pee-pee dance with the kids who sometimes come to my hut and have to use the bathroom as well. Then I have to run across the parking lot during classes, bang on B’s door, walk quickly to the little bathroom in her building, and hope that I get back to my hut before my class arrives.

That being said, I have made myself laugh twice this year as my body has betrayed me.

The first time was on our first First Friday a few weeks ago. While setting up the food, I ate a few snacks and poured myself a Coke. Sure enough, my body did its job, and I found myself having to pee by the beginning of my second class. I have four before lunch. I knew that I wasn’t going to make it, so I wrote the teacher who was coming third. At first I wrote: “I drank too much this morning. Must run to restroom before your class. Just wanted to let you know where I was if you get here while I’m gone.” Then I thought: “Hmm. That sounds like I’ve been drinking as a form of self-medication and that I was drinking before school. I’d better not send that.” So I edited my message and changed it to: “Consumed too many liquids this morning—drank both coffee AND soda like a dufus. Must run to the restroom before your class. Just wanted to let you know where I was if you get here while I’m gone.” The teacher understood. All was well. I got to make an emergency bathroom stop, and I didn’t make myself sound like an alcoholic.

The second time was today. I’m not sure what happened this morning—I only had one cup of coffee—but during the middle of my second class I realized that I was going to need to use the bathroom before noon. During my third class, I called the teacher of my next class to let her know where I’d be if she and her class got to my hut and I wasn’t there. Instead of stating this simply and eloquently, however, this is how the conversation went:

“Good morning, this is Ms. Orr.”
“Hi, Orr. This is Deaton. I have to pee.”

As soon as the statement exited my mouth, I realized how ridiculous it sounded and started to laugh. Orr laughed, too, and started to say, “Okay. And what would you like for me to do about this?” but I quickly began to explain the full point of my call and she quickly understood. But that didn’t mean we didn’t still laugh really hard when she brought her class. And it doesn’t mean that I haven’t laughed at myself all day. It’s as if I were saying, “Hi. My name is Deanna. And I have a confession to make.”

Which…I guess I have just made a confession. A bathroom confession. A confession about the importance of routine and schedule. A confession about rhythm. And a confession that teachers give everything and give up everything for our jobs—time, money, effort, and normal body functions included.