The Tide is High...

Last year I  decided that at the age of 46 I was going to cross off one of the items on my bucket list that actually had been a goal since I was a teenager: I started taking guitar lessons.  While it wasn't my first time having private lessons, it was the first time that the lessons came solely from me wanting to play music.  When I was 11 or 12 my father surprised me with a piano for my birthday (I guess I told him once or twice that I would like to play the piano).  Now apart from it being a way over the top gift for any child, it also was a gift that I really enjoyed...at first.  But it soon became another thing for me to judged about (in my anxious mind) and I soon grew to seeing it as a responsibility more than a pleasure activity.  Although I took over 5 years of lessons,  I rarely played in front of people.  I would get so nervous that I would make a mistake that the whole idea of playing formed a nervous knot in my stomach.  Whenever we had company over, I dreaded the lull in the conversation when my father would inevitably say "France (Dad never quite got the second syllable of Frances in there), play something on the piano for us".  On the occasions that I was persuaded to do so all I could think was "I can't wait for this to be over!". Not exactly the makings of a dedicated musician.  When I finally was allowed to stop taking lessons, I briefly thought about the guitar but quickly discounted that idea because I was sure the same thing would happen all over again. I was done being the entertaining monkey at family gatherings.

I first began thinking about taking lessons in 2008-2009 when I was living in Rochester, NY.  They have a guitar store there that had more guitars in one place than I had ever seen before.  I went into the store and tried out a few guitars but never made the leap to purchasing one and signing up for lessons.  When I finally got back into teaching after being a literacy coach and unemployed for a while, I decided that I didn't want to put off this dream any longer.  So, I went to the local music store, chose a guitar, and started lessons.  I found that my previous training in piano did help me a bit but that's where the similarities ended.  Now when I practice my guitar the problem is to find the time rather than finding the motivation to practice.  The adult Fran knows that the more I practice, the better I will get.  I view my chord exercises as simple songs that are getting me ready to play more complex pieces.  I probably have several pieces of clothing older than my guitar teacher, Mike, but he is a patient, talented, and encouraging teacher.  I look forward to my lessons and have learned songs from CSN, Ed Sheeran , Queen, and Bob Dylan just to name a few.  I go back to songs I have learned just to be sure I can remember how to play them.  And I smile and relax as I am strumming my acoustic.

My intention in writing today wasn't just to document my journey to actually learning how to love playing an instrument.  Something small happened while I was playing the other day that turned out to be a microcosm of my life at the current moment.  I am learning how to play R.E.M.'s song "The One I Love" and there is a beginning piece that is a bit complicated for me to play (damn you, Mike Mills!).  Well, as I was practicing the other day I was intently looking at the notes when I noticed something.  My entire body was rigid.  My teeth were clenched, my fingers were tense, and my arms were stiff.  I immediately relaxed everything and tackled the notes again.  As soon as I hit the first string, however, the same tense stance came back into play.  I realized that when I was learning a new piece my body often went into this strained position which couldn't be good for any learning to take place.  I decided to purposely relax the hold on my guitar and the muscles in my arms and face.  It felt so much more comfortable playing those notes although as of today's practice session, I still don't have them down.  I allowed myself to just play the notes as well as I could and then progress to the part of the song that was much easier for me to strum.  

I think this intense focus can be used to bring about a lot of good in my life.  I'm sure this is part of the reason why I have always interviewed really well and why I'm able to analyze different standards and strategies and apply them successfully to the students in front of me.  This piercing desire to provide the best instruction I can has helped me develop into a very responsive teacher which I believe has benefited my students immensely.   However, I'm discovering that this same intensity can also blind me to possibilities and patterns that I would normally see quite easily.  For instance, long ago I had a student who refused to stand for the Pledge of Allegiance.  He was a Canadian citizen and did not feel the need to salute the flag.  Since I was a young teacher and did not have the flexibility so needed when you are dealing with pre-adolescent children, I insisted he stand and made a huge deal about it.  Now that I have a wider viewpoint and have had to deal with problems much more serious than not standing for the pledge, I can see how my stubborn stance turned something small into a huge problem.  This boy's  refusal to stand for the pledge was just the tip of the iceberg of rebellion that was streaming through his veins.  If I had been more understanding, more open to his real problem (being angry that both of his parents left him with relatives  while they went to work in NYC), I could have built a bond with him instead of the rift that I caused which never really got mended (He is still the student that I feel "got away" from me). 

This "tunnel vision" which I had when practicing the difficult part of the song and displayed when trying to change the behavior of a student has reared its head again in my life.  In my career I have taught all the elementary grades except for third grade.  By far, the most productive and pleasurable time of my professional life is when I was teaching first grade.  The reasons for this are plentiful: I love teaching kids how to read; I love helping them discover the joy of writing their own stories; I can do the math with no problem at all (fifth grade math has progressively become so difficult as any parent of a fifth grader will tell you).  But most of all the growth and development of the child from September to June is unlike any other grade level.  This is what I'm addicted to: seeing my students grow SO much in 9 short months.  I have been trying to get back to first grade ever since I (stupidly) gave up my position in 2008.  I thought I was going to get my chance both last year and this year but it isn't meant to be.  And this has been very hard to accept.  I have cried over not getting  the opportunity to teach the little ones. I have envied those of my friends who are lucky enough to get to work with their new group of first graders.  I have misdirected my anger at family members who have nothing to do with whether or not I get the chance to teach the little ones.  I have focused only on my loss and not allowed myself to feel the excitement of a new school year which, even after 25 years, I usually feel every August.  

So, I am using this blog post to officially relax into the new school year. Just as a surfer needs to relax into his stance, I am relaxing into my comforting routines of August.   I used part of today to go over my class list and create contact forms for my summer phone calls.  I know several of the students who are coming to me this year in fourth grade, and they are little loves.  The tunnel vision is off, and I'm thinking about all the changes that my most excellent team mates and I talked about installing for this year.  And speaking of my team mates, I am reminding myself how lucky I am to have grade level colleagues who help make my job so much fun in the first place.  As much as I wanted to leave fourth grade, the people (both students and adults) make me so glad I stayed.

I'm not giving up my goal of getting back to first grade. And I'm sure there will be more than a few times that I look over  wistfully at the little ones in line, their index finger on their lips and their hands on their hips, as they file past me and my gigantic fourth graders.  But I'm not going to let it distract me anymore from the fact that I have a rewarding job and a multifaceted career in education that I have proudly built one step at a time.  Eventually, the tide will turn and I will be "good enough" to make it back to first grade.