Global Citizens

 I once heard someone say that elementary music teachers either teach music or they teach through music. I imagine that most elementary music teachers choose music, but I am not most. I teach life through music, and I try to create little people who grow up to be intelligent, respectful, and appreciative music makers and/or music consumers in this world.

 

I focus a lot on the goal of “understand[ing] global, interdisciplinary, and 21^st century connections with music.” I try to connect music to concepts of reading, math, science, and social studies. I love it when a kid asks me why we’re doing math in music. “Oh, little one,” I want to say, “you have no idea how much of music IS math!”

 

For the past three weeks, my 2^nd and 3^rd graders have been focusing the geographical concepts of city, state, country, and continent. Even though they can’t fully grasp the difference between the four, they know now—hopefully—that we go to school in the city of Sanford, in the state of NC, in the country of the United States, on the continent of North America. They also now know—hopefully—the names of the standard seven continents and the fact that there are 195 countries and many, many more cities in the world!

 

We have looked at a diagram on the white board. We have explored Google Earth. We have listened to and performed many different songs, chants, and raps. And this week, we are doing centers where students get to do one of four things: read children’s continent books/atlases, study the globe, color continent maps, or do continent puzzles…

 

Each year, teachers are required to create a Professional Development Plan. One of my goals for this year was to use centers in my classroom at least once. I knew the concept. I knew that it worked. But due to logistical issues and a bit of the fear of the unknown, I had put off achieving the goal for years. Last week, I decided that this week would be the week that I stopped talking and started doing. I’m so glad that I did.

 

I can’t tell you how thrilled my students have been with centers. They have exclaimed how fun they are. They have worked together to complete puzzles. They have cheered when completing said puzzles. They have gathered in groups to study the globes. They have been actively learning, and I have watched in awe as some of our most challenging students have completely transformed into fully engaged learners…

 

Honestly, I don’t know what musical concepts my 2^nd and 3^rd graders have gleaned from their unit on the Continents. But maybe it doesn’t matter. Because, personally, I have achieved a goal that has been a long time in coming and I have become a better teacher in the process. And maybe becoming better—maybe overcoming the fear of the unknown—maybe connecting learning to real life—maybe creating global citizens who realize that they aren’t the center of the universe—is the most important thing that I can teach…

   

Thank you, teachers, for the work that you do. Teach on. And teach well. And know that you make a difference. Amen.

The Authority of Scripture

 Yesterday, I was listening to the day’s gospel reading and I laughed: Peter was in his boat, with his friends, fishing naked. When he saw Jesus, he evidently thought, “I need clothes,” so he put on clothes and jumped into the water rather than waiting a few minutes for the boat to get to shore. Yes, this story fits with Peter’s zealous spirit and impulsive nature and it leads us to think of when Peter stepped out of boat to walk on water. But why did John need to include the fact that Peter was fishing naked? (John 21:7)

 

I was recently listening to Jesus’s gospel teachings and I thought: Jesus’s teachings are hard. They often don’t make sense. Jesus rarely, if ever, answers a question directly. He speaks in parables and questions. And He tells us to do difficult things—like hate our families (Luke 14:26).

 

I was recently sent a quote that read: It’s odd being told to take scripture literally, but when you take Christ’s first sermon literally—“bring good news to the poor, health to the sick, set prisoners free, and liberate the oppressed”—you get told to stop being political and that social justice isn’t biblical (B. Cremer).

 

I was recently asked my view on the authority of scripture. I responded: Scripture as recorded in the Bible is the Word of God, inspired by God, written down and recorded by humans under the direction of God. The Old Testament, comprised of many different types of writing, written for many different purposes, records the story of God’s interaction with God’s people, primarily the Hebrew people as they move through cycles of knowing and being close to God, moving away from God, experiencing the consequences of this movement, and returning to God.  The New Testament is the story of God’s interaction with God’s people, all people, Jew and Gentile (Galatians 3:28), through Jesus Christ and Christ’s body, the church. The Story of God as recorded in the Bible is a story that remains alive and active through the work and interpretation of the Holy Spirit. The Spirit illuminates the truths of scripture and makes them applicable to current life and culture. It is because of the Spirit’s continued work through scripture that the Bible holds authority today. 

 

Dear God: Help us to stop arguing about a literal reading of scripture. Help us instead, through the Spirit, to read scripture as your living Word, ever-infused with new life and meaning. We are part of a larger Story that we cannot fully comprehend. Help us to move forward in that story, taking with us all that is You and leaving behind all that is not. Amen.  

A Broken World

 I have fourteen globes in my classroom.

As of Tuesday, one of them is broken—

Cracked right down the middle of the Pacific Ocean—

A gaping hole in the planet—

The world is broken.

 

A 2^nd grader broke it.  

She said her hands were slippery and that the globe just fell out.

Her hands weren’t slippery.

The globe didn’t just fall out.

In all actuality,

She wasn’t paying attention to what she was doing.

She was being careless.

In an instant, the world cracked.

A huge chunk fell to the floor.

All the other students stopped in their tracks.

“Ooooooh,” they said, looking at me.

I wasn’t happy.

I picked up the broken world.

I held it in my hands.

“And this is what happens when you’re not careful with the globes.”

 

We all have our excuses for why we keep breaking the world.

Most of the time,

It’s simply because we’re not paying attention to what we’re doing.

Instead, we’re paying attention to convenience.

We are careless.

We don’t necessarily see the cracks we’re making.

We don’t always see huge chunks falling to the floor.

[Although the Artic is melting, and icebergs are crumbling,

So that should be a sign.]

We don’t always stop in our tracks,

“Oooooooh,” and look to the God who created this world.

But God is there, picking up the pieces,

Holds them in God’s hands,

And saying, “This is what happens when you’re not careful with the world.”

 

Oh God: You have tasked us to be good stewards of this earth. You have given us the beauty of all Creation and asked us to take care of it. Instead, we damage it more every day. Help us to do better. Help us to stop breaking the world. Amen. And Amen. 

There Was Jesus

 A few months ago, a friend introduced me to an app called “Pray As You Go.”

I listen on my way to work each day.

The format is simple: a call to prayer, a musical selection, a scripture passage reading, and questions for contemplation.

Last week as I listened to the scripture passages,

I couldn’t help but notice that whenever Jesus appeared to his disciples after the resurrection, they didn’t immediately recognize him.

Mary thought Jesus was just a gardener until he called her name.

The disciples on the road to Emmaus thought Jesus was just another traveler until he broke bread.

The disciples on the boat thought Jesus was just some guy standing on the shore until they heard his voice.

Yet there was Jesus.

 

Dear God: Help us to recognize you when you come to us. By your voice. By your actions. By your movement through creation. By the breaking of bread. You are with us, even when we don’t know it. Even when we can’t see it, there was, and is, Jesus. Thank you. Amen.    

72

 My car thermostat is set on 72.

In the mornings, 72 feels hot.

In the afternoons, 72 feels cold.

72 is 72.

Whether it’s hot or cold is all about

Perspective.   

 

Dear God: Help us to be who we are and not to waver in our identity, just as You, Jesus, did not waver in yours. You are You. No matter how we experience you. No matter if we understand you. No matter if our faith is hot or cold. No matter the perspective. You are You. And You are Love. Thank you. Amen.   

Gripped by Fear and Anxiety

Yesterday was a high and holy day.

Easter, the day of Jesus’ resurrection.

Easter, the day when sin and death were overcome by light and life.

Easter, a day of trumpeting for me.

Easter, a day of tears.

 

I was worshipping through the liturgy of the Easter Service yesterday morning when I suddenly found myself with tears rolling down my face. Not wanting to make a big scene, I quietly wiped my face, walked to my place to sing the choral anthem, took communion, played my trumpet, spoke to my friends, and made my way to my car…where I promptly started to weep.

 

“Encouraging God, you do a new thing among us. We pray for those gripped by fear and anxiety or who suffer in any way. Send us as your healing presence to the places of hunger, pain, illness, or overwhelming sorrow.”

 

We pray for those gripped by fear and anxiety.

Those gripped by fear and anxiety.

Fear and anxiety.

That’s me.

 

I don’t mean for it to be me.

But it’s me.

 

Even on medicine.

Even after fifteen years of therapy/counseling/life-coaching.

Ever after experiencing all the new things that God has done and will continue to do in my life.

I struggle with Generalized Anxiety Disorder.

And I always will.

 

But here’s the thing that hit me yesterday,

Even as I worked my way through a morning of nagging and irrational anxiety:

I am not the only one.

 

If the liturgy writers for the Evangelical Lutheran Church of America thought it important enough to pray for those gripped by fear and anxiety, then I am clearly not the only one.

 

What’s more? The writers thought that those of us gripped by fear and anxiety were important enough to be called out and prayed for by congregants across America.

 

Not only was my little church praying for me, but thousands of people whom I will never know and who will never know me were praying for me:

 

Our voices lifted as one, praying for healing, and praying that we, ourselves, could be part of that healing.

 

In that passing moment during worship, I didn’t have the words to understand my tears. I just knew that they were quietly falling. But on my way home, as the tears turned to weeping, I found the words and realized that I was humbled…as well as a little sad—I won’t lie—living with fear and anxiety is hard and I don’t know how people do it without help and a belief in the Light and Life that we celebrated yesterday…but, mostly, I was humbled…and grateful.

 

“Encouraging God, you do a new thing among us. We pray for those gripped by fear and anxiety or who suffer in any way. Send us as your healing presence to the places of hunger, pain, illness, or overwhelming sorrow. Lord, in your mercy, receive our prayer.” Amen. 

Alone

 Alone

was a feeling

so vast

it echoed

in the darkness.

 

“One of you will betray me.”

 

“Friend, do what you must.”

 

“If it be possible, let this cup pass from me.”

 

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

 

“It is finished.”

 

Alone

was a feeling

so vast

it echoed

in the darkness.

 

And it screamed.

 

And it rang.

 

And it reverberated.

 

And it overcame

 

Alone.

Keyboard Observation

 I got observed last week.

 

The Assistant Principal, Mr. Caywood, came to see me during a 4^th grade class when I was rewarding students for their behavior at the NC Symphony Education Concert.

 

The plan was simple: After the welcome and roll call, have a thorough discussion about the concert. Type out student answers. Afterwards, listen to one or two concert pieces via YouTube…and then pass out the keyboards for students to free play (or practice the song-sheet songs) for the remainder of the class period.

 

The plan didn’t allow for Mr. Caywood to see much teaching—but he didn’t care. In fact, instead of sitting and watching me watch the students play their keyboards, he got a keyboard and played for himself.

 

Mr. Caywood positioned himself in a chair to the side of the room. Students were scattered around the room, playing on the floor. Everyone was having a wonderful time, including Mr. Caywood, and I was having a wonderful time observing something very neat:

 

One-by-one, all of the students left their individual spaces and gravitated toward Mr. Caywood until he had an audience.

 

They all wanted to play for him. Or they wanted him to play for them. They all wanted to talk to him. Or they wanted him to talk to them. At one point, Mr. Caywood started a friendly rhythm competition. He was smiling. The students were smiling. I was smiling. It was a lovely 45 minutes.

 

And it was the embodiment of a deep truth: Children need adults who see them. Children need adults who believe in them. Children need adults to spend time with them. Children need adults to look up to and respect. (And children need opportunities just to play, too, but that’s not what this note is about).

 

Mr. Caywood and Mr. Chaney (the principal) are celebrities at the school. They do the announcements every day. They walk around to classrooms every day. They let students pie them in the face on pie day. They conduct special celebration days throughout the year. They are visible. And students love them.  

 

Sometimes I get so caught up in teaching, keeping order, and staying caught up that I forget that my students want—and need—someone to see, believe in, and spend time with them…

 

God: Help me to show up and be present in my students’ lives and to be a role model that they desire to sit and talk with. Help us each to remember that children need to be seen and loved, for who they are…and who they are becoming. Amen. 

Mulch

 Mulch.

From shredded tires.

Appears on my classroom floor.

Out of shoes.

Out of pockets.

Out of hands.

Out of nowhere.

If I’m lucky.

A student will volunteer to pick up the

Mulch.

If not.

The mulch collects.

Looking like bugs scattered around the room.

Yesterday I was lucky.

Two students volunteered to pick up the

Mulch.

They were so very happy to

Help.

The work gave them a sense of

Purpose.

The job wasn’t big.

It wasn’t clean.

Its result wasn’t one that will last forever.

There will be more

Mulch.

Soon.

But, for now, my room is clean.

Thanks to the work of

Two students

Who volunteered

To do the dirty work

Of cleaning the

Mulch.

 

Dear God: Help us to be mulch cleaners. The work may be messy and seem futile, but it gives us purpose and makes life nicer for such a time as this. Thank you, God, for the opportunity to clean mulch, and thank you, too, for the mulch cleaners in our own lives. Amen. 

Oklahoma Is Not OK!

 Whenever I hear the word Oklahoma, I always burst into the theme song from the musical. It’s catchy. It’s fun. I enjoy singing it. But I’d never seen the musical until Wednesday night.

From its title song, I assumed that the musical would be catchy and fun, too—something that I’d enjoy. I was wrong. I didn’t enjoy it at all. In fact, I left at intermission.

 

Wednesday night’s production of Oklahoma! was a revision of the original show. The thing is--this revision didn't change the plot or text--it just changed the setting, costumes, instrumentation, musical arrangements, and mood of the storyline.

 

There is a scene in the show where one main character, Curly, tries to convince another main character, Jud, to commit suicide. Evidently, in the original show, the conversation and subsequent song are presented in a sort of light-hearted, funny way, so it's not obvious that the conversation is sinister. In this show, though, the conversation happens in the dark. The audience sees nothing, rather hears two voices. "That's a nice rope...that's a nice hook...you could use those to hang yourself."

 

Then the song "Poor Jud is Dead" begins. During the song, Jud's face is projected through the view of a nighttime lens--very close-up--very haunted--very pained. The audience watches as Curly sings about the possibility of Jud hanging himself.  You see Jud respond. It's all very intimate, very sad, and very disturbing. It is clear that this character has a mental illness with likely a developmental delay that is being manipulated and exploited by someone who does not.

 

When the scene ended, I looked at the friend I was with and said, "I didn't like that. At all." She said, "I didn't either."

 

To put it simply: Oklahoma! is a dark and sinister show. I could give more examples. But I will stop there.

 

And yet…people laugh.

 

I didn’t stick around to see how things unfolded in the second act. I read the story online. I knew that it was going to continue to be dark. I knew that show was going to end in murder. I knew that there wasn't going to be justice. I knew that toxic masculinity was going to continue to be a theme. And so I left, completely baffled as to why this show has been popular for so long.

 

Has anything like this ever happened to you? Have you ever been completely blindsided by a movie, book, or show? Have you ever re-visited a classic from your childhood only to realize that it was completely inappropriate for you then and probably still is now?

 

While sitting in the lobby before leaving, I heard a man say to his wife, “It’s okay. Theatre is supposed to be entertaining, and tonight just wasn’t that night.”

 

Dear God: Thank you for the ability to walk away from entertainment that is far from entertaining. Give us the eyes to see and the ears to hear what entertainment is from You, and give us the wisdom and discernment to know when things cross the line. Amen.