Follow The Drinking Gourd

 **Throwback Thursday, 2.25.16**

 

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.

 

**A brief update: Time and circumstance have changed my teaching a bit, but I still introduce my older students to Wade in The Water, Harriet Tubman, and Follow The Drinking Gourd.**

Confession of the Purple Shirt

 

“Good morning,” she said. 

 

“Morning,” I said. 

 

“I like your shirt. It’s purple.” 

 

I should have said, “Thank you! I wore it for Lent,” and left it at that. 

 

Instead, I launched into this story. 

 

“Last Wednesday, 

I was looking through my closet for something to wear 

When I decided on this shirt. 

As I was taking it off the hanger, 

I noticed that it was a little dirty. 

So I took it off the hanger and laid it on the stool so I could wash it. 

Well, this morning, 

I went into my closet to get something to wear 

And I saw this shirt sitting on the stool. 

I got excited because it was purple 

So I put it on. 

I thought it had just fallen off its hanger. 

I didn’t realize it was dirty until I got to Lidl. 

When I saw it this morning, 

I totally forgot I had set it aside for washing. 

So. I have on a dirty shirt.”

 

To which she simply responded, “Well. I wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t said anything.”

 

🤦🏻‍♀️

 

At JazzTales on Monday morning,

We couldn’t get the visuals to work. 

We tried and tried but nothing was working 

Yet no one buy the presenters knew how it was supposed to be. 

If we would have just gone on with the show without highlighting the missing visuals 

Then no one would have ever known the difference. 

Because we confessed, though, 

The missing visuals became more missed, 

Just like my dirty shirt became more obvious. 

 

Confession is important. 

Examining ourselves for the ways our thoughts and actions have gone sideways 

Is crucial for personal and spiritual growth. 

Knowing that we have been forgiven is freeing and 

Releases us from the damning grips of shame. 

 

And yet. 

Why do we feel the need to save face with confessions like the purple shirt? 

 

God. 

Help us to know when to speak and when to remain silent. 

Help us to confess when we need to confess and not just to talk to explain or justify our thoughts and actions. 

You are the Word. 

Help us to be little examples of your word. 

 

Amen. 

Deflated

 

I don’t think that I could be a professional performer. 

I used to want to be in a Broadway show

(Les Mis to be precise—

Eponine to be exact), 

But somewhere along the way, 

I realized that I might get bored doing the same thing over and over again. 

And not only that, 

I think it would be somewhat of a thankless job. 

Yes, there would be applause,

But there wouldn’t be very many accolades after the show because 

You would be doing the same thing night after night and having to stay away from the crowd 

Rather than interacting with it.

 

Last Friday night,

My second and third grade students performed a program on the continents.

In a lot of ways,

We have been working on the program all year

Because we began talking about the continents and world music in the fall.

I decided to extend that concept into their stage performance

And selected one song from each continent except for Antarctica.

As the narration said,

The reason we didn’t sing a song from Antarctica is because only scientists, penguins, and seals live there :-). 

 

The kids worked really hard on the music and I think they learned some things in the process.

115 of them showed up for the performance

And did a fantastic job.

 

Administration was there and commended me. 

A handful of teachers were there and commended me. 

My team was there and commended me. 

But no parent said anything to me

And, honestly, it left me feeling deflated 

On top of being exhausted. 

 

But then I started thinking. 

How many times have I been to a performance and not spoken to the director? 

The answer is more times than I can count. 

I praise the person I go to see. 

Or talk about the performance with the people I’m with. 

But the director rarely gets any accolades 

Beyond the curtain call 

Or name recognition in the program. 

It’s just not what people do. 

Yet for people like me who need words of affirmation, 

It leaves a gaping hole and 

Makes us wonder if we are truly seen…

 

God, 

Forgive my insecurities and 

Help me to rest in knowing 

That I am doing my job. 

And when there is a way,

Help me to speak simple words of affirmation 

To those who need them most. 

Amen. 

 

12 Seconds

 

Have you ever been heating something in the microwave,

Waiting patiently,

Or maybe not so patiently,

When you got to the last few seconds,

And just gave up and opened the door early?

 

This happens all the time at school!

I’ll go to the microwave and see twelve seconds remaining,

Or four,

Or seven.

Some small number that represents seconds

That someone just couldn’t wait for their food.

 

I did it just the other day!

 

I suppose that in a school setting, every second counts.

We literally don’t have much time to heat our food and also eat it.

So saving a few seconds of heating time gives a few more seconds of eating time.

I know I’ve eaten my food cold more than once so I’d have more time to digest.

So I guess that makes sense.

 

But what about at home?

We open the microwave early all the time!

And there’s no rush.

There’s no reason not to wait for the final few seconds to impart heat into the food.

We just don’t do it.

We open the door and leave those seconds suspended in time.

And we create more steps for next time because we have to first clear out the wasted seconds

So that we can put in the new time and press start once again.

 

Why do we do this?

 

Why do we so often rush the process?

 

Why do we so often quit the process before it through?

 

Why do we so often wait impatiently when know that we are waiting for something good?

 

I don’t know.

 

Human nature I suppose.

 

I just think it’s interesting that we can’t wait 12 more seconds.

 

God, help us wait 12 more seconds.

 

Amen.

Show Up

 

I wrote Heidi the Librarian on Saturday and asked what she was doing.

She sent me a bunch of pictures and said, “My M.”

M is one of our students.

I said, “What is M doing?”

She sent another picture of M in a fancy dress.

I said, “I know it’s a pageant. For what?”

She said, “I’m not sure what the title would be.”

I laughed and said, “You’re at an unknown pageant?”

She said, “Yes. It’s just M’s pageant that she might not win.

She had steep competition in her division.”

I laughed again.

Heidi said, “It lasted two hours then there was a 30-minute intermission.

I saw M and hugged her and left.”

A few minutes later,

Heidi wrote me back with the name of the pageant.

“Enchanted Sweetheart Christmas,” she said.

“I asked 😊.”

 

In review:

Heidi spent two hours of her Thanksgiving break

Watching an unknown pageant

Because a student asked her to go,

And she did.

 

Friends:

There is a lot we cannot do in this world.

There is a lot we cannot afford to give.

But just as surely as the sun rises and sets each day,

We can show up for one another when someone asks,

Or show up for one another when need cannot be muttered.

In times of celebration,

In times of grief,

In times of goodness,

In times of sadness,

In times when words flow freely,

In times when words get stuck in throats,

In times when waiting is easy,

In times when waiting is hard.

We can show up.

And sit.

And endure a two-hour pageant

For a 10 second hug that was

Probably the highlight the entire day.

 

In this Advent Season,

May we be a people who show up,

Sometimes not even knowing what we’re getting into,

Simply because we can and

Because we love and

Because the Christ-child showed up for us.

 

Amen.

Prayer in School

 

Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I did. 

 

I’m practicing in the auditorium with my 4th and 5th graders this week. 

We have a program on Friday night. 

A church meets in the auditorium on the weekends.

Some of their instruments and unassuming stuff is still on stage. 

At the end of rehearsal this morning,

One of my students walked up to the prayer request station 

And quietly asked if he could write a prayer. 

I told him yes. 

So he did. 

Another kid joined him and asked me how to spell Vietnam. 

As the original student walked away, he wiped tears from his eyes.

 

Like I said, maybe I shouldn’t have let them use the church’s materials

To write a prayer during school hours. 

But I did. 

And at least for today, 

I’m not sorry. 

The Archies

 

We had our Fall Festival at school this past Friday night. 

My job for each year’s festival is to be the DJ. 

In preparation for this year’s big event, 

I curated a playlist on Amazon Music. 

It was a mix of Halloween music and upbeat music from different decades.

I even asked my colleagues for song requests so that I knew the music would be relevant. 

 

After I got the sound system set up and tried to connect my phone to the speaker via Bluetooth, 

I realized that I was standing in a dead zone.

My phone had no cell signal

Nor would it connect to the school’s Internet.

The result? 

No access to my carefully curated playlist. 

 

Thankfully, I had packed two computers just in case.

Thankfully, again, both computers would connect to the school’s Internet.

Thankfully, for the third time, a friend let me use her YouTube music account and I was able to access the music with no commercials.

And so, I stood typing in the names of songs from the playlist and using YouTube song suggestions.

 

For an hour and a half, 

All was going well…

Until I played one song.

 

Now. 

I like the song Sugar Sugar.

It’s a cute tune from the 1960s and I have a cup game lesson that goes along with it.

So when I started playing it,

I did not expect the older gentleman who was sitting near me

To jump up and come walking toward me with a sense of urgency,

Yelling, “The Archie’s! No! No! No!  Absolutely not!

Stop that music right now!”

 

Afraid that I had accidentally played a politically incorrect group from the 60s,

Or that I had unknowingly triggered a PTSD memory, 

Or that something was majorly wrong,

I immediately stopped the music. 

My heart was racing and I felt a little sick.

I shakingly fumbled to try to find a new song to fill the sudden silence,

All the while, listening to the man say,

“No bubblegum pop.

Bubblegum pop is terrible.

You can play any other style of music, just don’t play that.”

And then he chastised me for being a music teacher who didn’t know what bubblegum pop was. 

 

After he walked away,

I became paranoid about the music I was playing.

Suddenly, not only was I mindful of trying not to play music with cuss words,

But I was also mindful of not playing music that might trigger someone,

Or in this case, 

Possibly just annoy someone who made a really big, somewhat scary deal about it. 

 

We live in precarious times. 

There is so much deep seated trauma 

That we don’t know how to deal with it. 

There is so much anger and emotion that it explodes at weird times 

And transfers to weird situations. 

An elementary school Fall Festival is definitely a weird time. 

And being yelled at and demeaned for playing a song was definitely a weird situation.  

 

But hey. 

Other than that, I had a nice time. 

And that’s something, right?

 

School Gift--Bats

I’m not exactly sure where they came from,

But Barb the Great gave me in a tin full of purple bats.  

I can’t imagine the original intent of said purple bats,

But I decided they’d be perfect for a little school-gift,

Especially around this time of year.

 

Yesterday morning, I set out to write the bat’s message.

But, boy did I struggle!

 

Educators don’t really want to read anything placed in their boxes.

Reading takes time.

And time is a hot commodity.

So, school-gifts must be short, lest they immediately go in the trash.

School-gifts must also be straightforward, uplifting, and/or challenging

Because teachers often don’t have the brain space to think of anything

Other than what they’re teaching.

 

And so…

I started writing.

It went dark quickly because bats are traumatic for me.

While it’s important to know about trauma—

Especially in children—

A school-gift isn’t the time to learn.

 

And so…

I edited.

I know that bats are good for the environment and that they’re actually kind of cute.

While it’s important for us to realize that bats are endangered and that they are needed—

Especially to combat mosquitoes—

A school-gift isn’t the time to ponder the merits of bats.

 

And so…

I edited.

I’ve worked on overcoming my fear of bats in therapy.

While it’s important to know the benefits of therapy and of

Doing the hard work of overcoming fear for yourself—

Especially for those in the helping professions—

A school-gift isn’t the time to consider therapy.

 

And so…

I edited.

I’ve let go of some of my bat fear,

But I think part of it will probably always remain.

While it’s important to recognize that fears don’t always go away—

Especially fears that are tied to trauma—

A school-gift isn’t the time to embrace that reality.

 

And so…

I edited.

And finally, I came up with this:

 

A bat flew at my head once. It was inside my house. It scared me. A lot.

Rationally, I know that bats are good. Irrationally, because of that moment, I have a deep fear of bats.

Fear is a powerful thing. It can both motivate and debilitate us. It can both push us to try new things and stop us in our tracks. We all have fears. We all have things both tangible and intangible that scare us.

But do not fret, friends. Fear is not the final word. The opposite of fear is hope, courage, determination, resilience, and strength. The opposite of fear is love. And love is the final word.

Hold to that truth today and in the days to come…especially as you face your fears.

 

May this latest school-gift be also a blessing to you.

And may you truly hold to one reality that is the final word:

Love,

For God IS love.

Even if God created bats.