Overworked and Underpaid?

 A couple of months ago,

I received a bulk e-mail asking for participants in a research-study

That focused on teaching Native American music and culture.

I accepted the invitation.

Long story short,

Out of the hundreds of music teachers who received the e-mail,

Only four responded that we would participate.

Most didn’t respond at all.

But quite a few responded that they didn’t teach Native American music.

The researcher reported that people are afraid to teach it.

They don’t want to teach it wrong.

They don’t want to perpetuate stereotypes.

They don’t know where to begin.

They don’t know where to end.

So they just don’t do it at all.

Both me and the researcher found this sad.

Here we are, living on land stolen from thriving Native American tribes--

Here we are, surviving because of the contributions of Native American tribes--

Completely ignoring their history and culture because we don’t know where to begin.

 

I didn’t know where to begin either.

So I started where I was—

With a music textbook that included a song by the Haliwa-Saponi tribe in northern NC.

I learned everything I could about the tribe and introduced myself to members of the tribe at the NC State Fair.

From there, my research expanded to other tribes and continues to expand each year.

There are a lot of nuances between tribes.

A lot that I still don’t know—

A lot that I will never know because there is so much.

But I’m trying.

And I will continue to try.

Because it is worth it to me to dispel cultural myths and to

Shed light on a culture that holds so much beauty.

 

I find it sad that it’s not worth it to more people

To do the research that it takes to teach Native American music.

Yes. Research takes time, effort, and, in some cases, money.

Yes. Teachers are overworked and underpaid.

But is that really an excuse to overlook a people group who has been

Overlooked and marginalized for far too long?

 

…

 

I recently attended my first pow wow.

I danced in the circle dance,

Holding hands with strangers as we danced in a circle of unity and love.

 

May there be more circle dances,

More unity,

More love,

More connections to the earth and the Great Spirit that created her.

 

And may we be a people not afraid of beginning…

 

Amen. 

Of Course

 Last Friday, as I was making last minute preparations for the 4^th and 5^th grade program,

A parent wrote me to ask a question.

She wanted to know if her son was going to be involved in the program that night.

She had assumed that he wasn’t going to be

Because he is an EC (Exceptional Children) student,

But after school that day he told her that he had practiced that afternoon and had to go back that night.

Of course he is, I told her.

He is more than welcome to come.

So he did.

And he performed with his neuro-typical, able-bodied peers,

And we had a great performance.

 

After ten weeks of work,

Rehearsing with soloists,

Singing meaningful songs hundreds of time,

And sending out multiple parent messages,

What sticks with me the most about last Friday night’s performance

Is that parent’s message.

She was so excited when I told her that her son was invited to perform.

It’s as if it were an abnormal occurrence for her son to be treated like his peers.

And that made me sad.

It still makes me sad.

 

While we have come a long way in our EC services in the past few decades,

We still have a long way to go.

It’s hard, knowing how to embrace persons who are differently abled,

But it’s a necessity that we learn and that we stop shutting them and their families in the closet.

Taking care of a special needs child is exhausting.

Many EC parents and caregivers love their children unconditionally but find themselves with the life-long commitment of taking care of children who cannot take care of themselves.

In general, we do a terrible job supporting the families and parents of special needs children.

It takes time, intentionality, and effort…

And yet…

We are called to love one another.

 

May we strive to live in a world where parents don’t have to write to see if their child is included.

And may we work to make the playing field equitable for everyone involved.

 

Amen. 

Les Mis and Mozzarella Sticks

 Yesterday morning, one of my friends went to Sheetz for biscuits.

“I didn’t know they had biscuits at Sheetz,” I said.

“Have you been to a Sheetz?” she replied.

“Yes. One time after going to see Les Mis with some friends.

We got mozzarella sticks and something else.

Why I remember that event with such details is beyond me,” I answered.

“Well. It’s basically like a fast food restaurant,” she stated.

And that was the end of the conversation.

 

But as I drove to get to lunch and thought about a litany of friends

As I passed various places along the way,

I realized that I am constantly thinking of and remembering

People who have impacted my life in some way.

Sometimes I pick up my phone and write.

Most of the time, I do not.

But I can pretty much guarantee that if we made memories together,

Then at least one of those memories is stored away in my brain

And will come back into consciousness

Whenever I see or experience something that reminds me of you.

For instance, every time I drive by a particular intersection,

I think of a friend with whom I had a conversation at that intersection while waiting for traffic to dissipate one day.

I drive by almost every day.

Or when I pass a local neighborhood sign, I think of a friend who lived there in high school.

Or when I pass CrossFit, I think of a friend who trains there.

Or when I hear “We Built This City on Rock ‘N Roll,” I think of a friend who loves the song.

Or when I go to Dollar Gentrald, I think of a friend whose grandmother named the store such, and I laugh.

Or when…

And the list could go on.

 

Sometimes, I imagine my prayer list as a post-movie credit reel.
I start from childhood and list everyone I can think of.

I continue this until I fall asleep or my brain wanders elsewhere.

 

It’s all the time,

Everywhere,

A constant reality,

I think of people,

I think of you,

And I offer the thoughts as prayers when I do.

 

May we be a connected people,

In thought and in action,

And may we hold one another in light and love,

Each time we remember going to see Les Mis and eating mozzarella sticks.

Amen.  

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. 

October Whirlwind

 It’s been a whirlwind of a month.

Not only have I taught my regular lessons and attended my four monthly meetings for work,

But I’ve also prepared my 4^th and 5^th graders for a program, taken a workshop, edited papers for a writing competition, and helped with the Fall Festival at school.

I’ve entered art into and attended two art shows,

One of which I volunteered at for ten hours.

I’ve gone to see two musical shows: “Beautiful” and “MJ The Musical.”

Both were good, but “MJ The Musical” was surprisingly so.

I’ve gone to Universal Studios, Magic Kingdom, and Epcot in Orlando,

And I’m going to a Powwow in Baden next weekend.

I’ve hung out friends and helped my mom a little in our newly remodeled kitchen,

And I’ve gone to the car dealership to get a new key for my car.

The one thing I’ve not done a lot of, though, is rest…

And when a germ meets you with lack of rest, you often get sick...

And so I hit a brick wall yesterday and had to cancel my whole day because I was sick.

Just a cold with a cough. Exhausted. No voice.  

But still…sick.

It caused me to miss church in the morning, lunch with my brother’s family and a concert with my sister’s family in the afternoon…

And that made me sad.

But overall, I’ve had an awesome whirlwind of a month.

I feel very fortunate to have had the opportunity to do all the fun things I’ve done.

And I’ve even learned a few things along the way:

 

1)     1. It’s nice to be able to mentally check out and let someone else take the lead ever so often. I knew that I could 100% trust Amy The Disney Lover to take care of the details and get me to where I needed to be on our Orlando trip, so I just blindly followed and felt no stress whatsoever. I was fully present with a smile on my face. And I was happy.

2)    2.  When at an amusement park, it’s nice not to have a schedule. Prioritizing what you really want to do and then just going and seeing what happens for the rest of the day makes for an exciting day.   

3)     3. When planning to walk around 10 miles a day, take blister bandages just in case.

4)     4. Getting a new car key is stupidly expensive.

5)      5, When entering a competition, it’s important to enter the right category. If someone suggests a category and you don’t feel right about it, then go with your gut. Your gut is usually right.

6)     6. Much of western European music was influenced by the music of Africa…yet African melodies, rhythms, and instruments often get left out of the discussion in music education. For instance, the major and minor scales came from Africa. They came to Spain via the slave trade, and the Spanish guitar then spread them throughout Europe. Neat, huh?

7)     7. North America was not some vast, untamed land that needed to be tamed by Europeans. It was a land lived upon and held sacred by Native American cultures. There were people here, living, surviving, thriving and we must not forget those people. Epcot: Do a better job with your American history!

 

The week to come is another busy week.

I’m hoping a day of rest yesterday will propel me through it all,

And that I will keep growing,

Keep learning,

Keep experiencing life…

For I know that it is a gift and

I am grateful.

 

Amen. 

Crisis Averted!

 Last Monday, on a much-needed workday,

Shauna the Art Teacher was working on spooky decorations for this year’s Fall Festival.

As I was leaving to get lunch,

I popped my head into the art room to see how things were going.

Bent over working, Shauna said, “Come and see.”

Expecting to see a dark monstrosity,

I rounded the corner and saw nothing of the sort!

Instead, I saw a huge puddle of thick, orange paint on the floor, and

Shauna feverishly trying to get it up before it dried.

“Oh no!” I said.

“Yeh. I was looking for black paint and accidentally knocked over the orange.

It’s a small disaster.”

Without thinking twice,

I picked up some paper towels and began to help.

Thankful for a plethora of paper towels and mindful of our age as our knees hurt,

Shauna and I worked together to get up as much paint as we could.

Afterward, Shauna prepared the mop water and hoped it would finish the job.

It did.

The custodial team’s kind wrath was avoided!

A crisis was averted!

And Shauna went about her day making spooky decorations.

 

I had outlined my day in my head.

I had prepared myself for things to do and places to go.

I hadn’t allotted any time to help avert crises,

But as soon as I knew that a friend needed help,

I dropped everything and went to work.

 

Sometimes something more important than the original plan pops up.

Sometimes we must drop everything to help those in need.

Sometimes giving our time and energy to others is the most important thing we can do.

And sometimes the work will be messy.

But let’s do the work.

The messy work.

Of helping others amid disaster.

Both great and small.

Amen.

Trauma Response

 Last week during one of my classes,

I witnessed a kid have a trauma response.

Another kid either touched or pushed him—

I didn’t see which—

And it really upset him.

He ran over to the kid,

Said, “Don’t touch me again,”

And then ran to the back of the room

Where he stayed for the rest of class,

Trying to pull himself together.

He wasn’t trying to get attention.

He wasn’t being stubborn and not going to his seat.

He was shut down,

Clearly triggered by the other kids’ touch.

 

Last Sunday, as I was scrolling through FB,

This video caught my attention.

As I watched,

Somewhat horrified,

Somewhat sad,

I kept thinking,
“Trauma response.

This guy is so enraged that he’s not thinking.

Something has triggered him and he’s gone.”

 

According to Bing’s AI generated search,

A trauma trigger is a psychological stimulus that prompts involuntary recall of a previous traumatic experience. It can be anything that reminds you of a past trauma, such as a certain smell, a particular song or sound, or a piece of clothing.  Triggers are unique to the individual and can vary widely between people.  When you encounter a trigger after trauma, a strong emotional and behavioral reaction comes over you. It’s as if you are reliving that trauma all over again.  The word “triggered” has become a popular term to describe anything that causes emotional discomfort. But for people who have experienced trauma, triggers can be terrifying, all-consuming, and can seemingly come out of nowhere. 

 

So. The next time you see someone strongly overreact,

Stop and understand that they may be acting out of a trauma response.

And even if they’re not,

The stress of their lives may just be too much for them to handle in that moment.

Does it excuse hurtful, damaging behavior?

No.

But it sheds life on its roots…

And it reminds us that there is far more going on in a person’s life than we see on the surface.

 

Oh God: Give us eyes to see and ears to hear those who are hurting around us. When it’s us who is hurting, help us to get the help that we need. And when it’s those whom we love who are hurting, help us to love them in the exact ways they need to be loved—even if it means kicking them into your arms and allowing you do what we cannot. Be with victims of systemic trauma and grant them the resources that they need to heal. Help us to not perpetuate a broken system but to learn, to educate, and to rise above the brokenness, into wholeness in you. Amen. 

Reframing

 Last week as we were sitting in class,

My friend Mrs. Howell said,
“I thought about you this morning, Ms. Deaton.”

I said, “Uh oh. I hope it wasn’t bad.”

She said, “It was something.”

She continued, “You know I drive a bus in the morning.

Well, I’ve got some characters on my bus.

I was driving along this morning when I heard,

‘Your mama’s so fat…’

And I thought, ‘Uh oh.’

I just listened for a moment and heard them coming at each other with,

‘Your mama’s so fat…’

I was thinking about saying something when all of a sudden I heard,

‘My mama’s fat because she had me!’

And then all of the voices starting saying the same thing.

‘My mama’s fat because…’

‘Well my mama’s fat because…’

‘Well my mama’s fat because…’

And I looked down at myself and thought,

‘I’ve had two kids. Maybe that’s why I’m fat!’”

We laughed.

 

I said, “Wow. What a way to reframe a conversation!”

She said, “I know. And it just made me think of you because I know you pay attention to what the kids say.”

And I do.

And I think this story is so funny…

Especially knowing the kids involved.

 

Friends: Sometimes it simply takes reframing a situation, story, or memory to turn it from

Harmful to helpful,

Negative to positive,

Serious to funny,

Anger to acceptance.

 

I remember Jenny The Counselor saying something about rewriting a story from the past.

I argued with her.

I told her that the past was the past and that it couldn’t be changed.

Then slowly, over time, as I began to see things through a different lense,

I suddenly began to understand.

No. We can’t change the facts of a situation, story, or memory,

But we can change how we respond…

And we can show both ourselves and the others involved

Forgiveness and grace.

 

I wish Your Mama jokes didn’t exist.

I wish hurling insults in any form, for whatever reason,

Wasn’t a thing.

But it’s been a thing since the beginning of time and it’s likely not going to go away.

So…let’s work on reframing.

Let’s work on changing the plotline when we can and

The focus-point when we can’t.

When appropriate, let’s turn tense situations into laughter

And difficult situations into compromise and peace.

 

It’s possible.

The boys on the bus did it that day.

We can, too.