As I was cleaning my room tonight, I rediscovered some random CDs when I peeked under my bed to scout out a cozy spot for a wandering backpack. Spotting a plastic tub, I pulled it out and perused its contents. The first item, a dull white CD with "Mozart" written in a plain maroon font across one side, almost escaped any special notice. However, after I had flipped through an odd assortment of discs, my eyes grazed the plain CD once again and gave me pause.
The deceivingly simple facade of the CD triggered the archives of my brain and the remote though pristine strains of beloved piano concertos cried out for recognition. Jumping from the floor, I hurried to silence the blaring tunes on my laptop in order to feed my new-found treasure into my roommate's Bose stereo.
Immediately, the delicate classical music began to waft into the condo, profoundly transforming my surroundings. Suddenly, sifting through piece after piece of piled-up mail and tending to dirty dishes was enjoyable with the genius of Mozart fueling my imagination and captivating my mind. The crisp tones of the piano flitting above the flowing orchestra could not be more angelic.
There is more to this little story of mine. For me, music holds a powerful nostalgic key rivaled only by the sense of smell. When I hear a certain song, I will instantly recall the time and place where strong mental attachments to that tune were forged.
For this particular piano concerto (I unfortunately do not know the concerto number at this moment), my mind is taken to my freshmen year at John Brown University. I can envision sitting in my friend Dorothy's room, typing feverishly on her computer to craft my fifteen-page ethnography for Honors English. This was no small feat for me at that time. The ONLY thing that encouraged me to plow on was listening to the third movement of this particular Mozart piano concerto over and over and over...the same concerto I am indulging in now. Its perplexing and driving melody still transfixes my mind.
Tonight, I taste the bittersweetness of those hours long ago. My anxiety about that paper was somehow soothed by Mozart. Though weaving my ethnographic tale of a couple's life on a horse farm taxed my energy, the kisses of the beautiful piano and orchestra on my ears spurred me on. Like a strange juxtaposition, I reveled in both the challenge and joy of writing that was so deeply reflected in the angst and peace heard in the music. Can words even describe the rapturous nature of it all?
And so it is, that cleaning and rummaging have this evening afforded me a rendezvous with my past. Here's to you, ethnographies, JBU, freshmen woes, and Mozart. A rare but fabulous combination.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
And That's What Keeps a Teacher Going...
There are days when I am not sure what I am doing with my life. It's so easy to get bogged down in the details of everyday obligations and tasks that I lose sight of the bigger picture. There are days when I ask myself how I became a middle school music teacher. I question if I just haphazardly landed where I am because I was swept away by a flood of chain-reaction circumstances or if I am where I am because I intentionally sought the will of God.
This is a topic with which all people, especially all believers, struggle. It's one of those concepts in life that provides no clear-cut answers. Of course, I trust that no matter where I am, if I am seeking God with my whole heart, He will use me in the midst of my circumstances and I can rest in His sovereign orchestration of my life. However, there have been many days, especially in previous years, where I could not swallow or accept that God wanted me to be a teacher...at least for longer than short term.
I don't know why I didn't want to embrace my job fully. Regardless, I can tell you that God has been revolutionizing my heart concerning what it means to be a teacher. I am beginning to not only love my job, but to more seriously consider what a privilege it is to impact so many precious lives.
With that intro, I bring you into my life today. This semester, my 8th grade choir got off to a sluggish start (I receive almost all new choir students at semester). I had a handful of students who were simply put into choir without choosing it. I knew this in advance and knew what this fact would mean for me: an uphill battle. It is no small task to prod 8th graders into enjoying choir if they enter the room with an established notion that they will not like the class. This is especially true of the boys.
Auditions for high school choir were today. The choral director from the high school came over to hear interested 8th graders. Of course, many girls eagerly signed up. The small miracle is how many boys decided to audition. And...two or three of them were boys that were not exactly overjoyed about being in choir this semester. That was enough to make my day.
Yet, it got even better. A bright-eyed 8th grade boy who behaves well for me in class but who I was worried wasn't sure about singing at the beginning of the semester, came to me this morning and asked to try out for the high school choir. Really?! My heart was thrilled...
After the audition, I saw him in the hall and asked him how it went. He told me it went well, then went on: "I'll be honest," he started. "When I was first put in choir, I wasn't at all sure about it. But, now that we are a few weeks into it, I am really enjoying it." His expression added to the truth and enthusiasm of his words. Of course, I was elated and told him so. I also praised him for the talent he truly displays.
As I moved onto my next class, I wanted to sing (how cheesy for a music teacher to say.:)). I felt blessed. Period. Those are the moments that make a teacher want to keep going. Wow. I cannot credit myself for making these moments happen. God is the only one to be praised.
So, God, thank You. Thank you for knowing what job is right for me and for providing me with enough encouraging moments to carry on. Please help me to continually know what it means to love students as a teacher in thier lives.
This is a topic with which all people, especially all believers, struggle. It's one of those concepts in life that provides no clear-cut answers. Of course, I trust that no matter where I am, if I am seeking God with my whole heart, He will use me in the midst of my circumstances and I can rest in His sovereign orchestration of my life. However, there have been many days, especially in previous years, where I could not swallow or accept that God wanted me to be a teacher...at least for longer than short term.
I don't know why I didn't want to embrace my job fully. Regardless, I can tell you that God has been revolutionizing my heart concerning what it means to be a teacher. I am beginning to not only love my job, but to more seriously consider what a privilege it is to impact so many precious lives.
With that intro, I bring you into my life today. This semester, my 8th grade choir got off to a sluggish start (I receive almost all new choir students at semester). I had a handful of students who were simply put into choir without choosing it. I knew this in advance and knew what this fact would mean for me: an uphill battle. It is no small task to prod 8th graders into enjoying choir if they enter the room with an established notion that they will not like the class. This is especially true of the boys.
Auditions for high school choir were today. The choral director from the high school came over to hear interested 8th graders. Of course, many girls eagerly signed up. The small miracle is how many boys decided to audition. And...two or three of them were boys that were not exactly overjoyed about being in choir this semester. That was enough to make my day.
Yet, it got even better. A bright-eyed 8th grade boy who behaves well for me in class but who I was worried wasn't sure about singing at the beginning of the semester, came to me this morning and asked to try out for the high school choir. Really?! My heart was thrilled...
After the audition, I saw him in the hall and asked him how it went. He told me it went well, then went on: "I'll be honest," he started. "When I was first put in choir, I wasn't at all sure about it. But, now that we are a few weeks into it, I am really enjoying it." His expression added to the truth and enthusiasm of his words. Of course, I was elated and told him so. I also praised him for the talent he truly displays.
As I moved onto my next class, I wanted to sing (how cheesy for a music teacher to say.:)). I felt blessed. Period. Those are the moments that make a teacher want to keep going. Wow. I cannot credit myself for making these moments happen. God is the only one to be praised.
So, God, thank You. Thank you for knowing what job is right for me and for providing me with enough encouraging moments to carry on. Please help me to continually know what it means to love students as a teacher in thier lives.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Sardines
For those of you who are looking at the time of this writing, please don't worry. I realize it's a Friday night and a prime time to be out enjoying good company and/or quality entertainment of some kind. I assure you, I still have junior-high anxiety about being home alone on a Friday night because that's not the "cool" thing to do.
However, this evening I have forgone hanging out with friends so that I can get myself caught up on life and into bed at a decent hour. Tomorrow morning will greet me before I know it since I'm rising at an unearthly time to go skiing with my brother and perhaps some of his Denver posse.
While I have been successful at getting some mundane tasks done thus far tonight, I couldn't resist the lure of my blog. This week has been full, entertaining, and prime fodder for blog posting. For example...
Have you ever had sardines? They have to be the most frightfully hideous-looking food that is sold in the grocery store (pork rinds would be a close second). Thankfully, they are strategically packaged in cute little tins so that the naive shopper might take a fancy to buying the little critters. Otherwise, the sardine business would be broke. Even I would probably refuse to buy them if I were reminded of what they look like at the grocery store.
Well, for as medieval and mucky as they are, I am crazy about the little fish. I don't know where the disconnect is, but the disgusting look and smell of the creatures flee when I taste them. Yum. (Have I lost anyone? Are you stomaching this?). Here's to sardine-lovers out there! My grandpa is a sardine-lover and he tops the ranks of awesome men, so I have no shame in this.
Anyway, so yesterday I began to plot what delicacy I would pack for lunch while readying for the day. Being slightly low on supplies and creativity, I decided to grab a tin of sardines. Yes, I did contemplate how much they smell and that
I might offend someone at work, but I chose to brave the dangers and tote the little guys to work with me.
As the morning wore on, I grew hungry and decided to eat my lunch early (around 11:00). Disregarding the possible consequences of indulging in a fishy meal within my classroom, I pulled out the sardines and ripped open the can. Sardine odor engulfed my senses. No worries, there were no students in my room...yet. But, I had a guitar class coming in about ten minutes. Surely they won't smell this, I thought. They're middle schoolers...they're used to foul smells. That was denial if ever there was. I snarfed down the sandwich I made and then hurried to get rid of any signs that I had just eaten.
The bell rang and 7th graders poured into my room. "Ugh! What's that smell?" some kid cried. "It smells like sushi!" came a student's incredulous reply. I bit my lip and tried to ignore it all.
As I took attendance, I almost lost it when I spied two students with their noses in their shirts. "Miss Naramore, what's that smell?" Oh no, I couldn't ignore a question directed at me. As nonchalantly as possible, I shrugged my shoulders. "If it's a fishy smell, it was probably my lunch because I had fish in my lunch." The nonchalance wasn't erasing how red my face felt.
How is it that I can be embarrassed in front of 7th graders...over fish? Goodness. The comical look on one of the boy's faces as he looked at me in almost pity or amusement didn't help. Ugh!!! I hate it when they can read me so well.
Anyway, I don't care how much I like sardines or how awesome they are nutritionally (it's true...they are). I will never again pack sardines as a school lunch.
And...the next time you want to come see me, perhaps you should call in advance and make sure that I haven't opened a can of sardines in my place...unless you like sardines too. Anyone out there willing to admit your love of sardines?
However, this evening I have forgone hanging out with friends so that I can get myself caught up on life and into bed at a decent hour. Tomorrow morning will greet me before I know it since I'm rising at an unearthly time to go skiing with my brother and perhaps some of his Denver posse.
While I have been successful at getting some mundane tasks done thus far tonight, I couldn't resist the lure of my blog. This week has been full, entertaining, and prime fodder for blog posting. For example...
Have you ever had sardines? They have to be the most frightfully hideous-looking food that is sold in the grocery store (pork rinds would be a close second). Thankfully, they are strategically packaged in cute little tins so that the naive shopper might take a fancy to buying the little critters. Otherwise, the sardine business would be broke. Even I would probably refuse to buy them if I were reminded of what they look like at the grocery store.
Well, for as medieval and mucky as they are, I am crazy about the little fish. I don't know where the disconnect is, but the disgusting look and smell of the creatures flee when I taste them. Yum. (Have I lost anyone? Are you stomaching this?). Here's to sardine-lovers out there! My grandpa is a sardine-lover and he tops the ranks of awesome men, so I have no shame in this.
Anyway, so yesterday I began to plot what delicacy I would pack for lunch while readying for the day. Being slightly low on supplies and creativity, I decided to grab a tin of sardines. Yes, I did contemplate how much they smell and that
I might offend someone at work, but I chose to brave the dangers and tote the little guys to work with me.
As the morning wore on, I grew hungry and decided to eat my lunch early (around 11:00). Disregarding the possible consequences of indulging in a fishy meal within my classroom, I pulled out the sardines and ripped open the can. Sardine odor engulfed my senses. No worries, there were no students in my room...yet. But, I had a guitar class coming in about ten minutes. Surely they won't smell this, I thought. They're middle schoolers...they're used to foul smells. That was denial if ever there was. I snarfed down the sandwich I made and then hurried to get rid of any signs that I had just eaten.
The bell rang and 7th graders poured into my room. "Ugh! What's that smell?" some kid cried. "It smells like sushi!" came a student's incredulous reply. I bit my lip and tried to ignore it all.
As I took attendance, I almost lost it when I spied two students with their noses in their shirts. "Miss Naramore, what's that smell?" Oh no, I couldn't ignore a question directed at me. As nonchalantly as possible, I shrugged my shoulders. "If it's a fishy smell, it was probably my lunch because I had fish in my lunch." The nonchalance wasn't erasing how red my face felt.
How is it that I can be embarrassed in front of 7th graders...over fish? Goodness. The comical look on one of the boy's faces as he looked at me in almost pity or amusement didn't help. Ugh!!! I hate it when they can read me so well.
Anyway, I don't care how much I like sardines or how awesome they are nutritionally (it's true...they are). I will never again pack sardines as a school lunch.
And...the next time you want to come see me, perhaps you should call in advance and make sure that I haven't opened a can of sardines in my place...unless you like sardines too. Anyone out there willing to admit your love of sardines?
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Because My Laundry's Not Done...
Here's how my evening went: I threw a load of laundry in around 6:45 pm. The load included sheets for my bed. I started watching LOST. I got lost in the show (no pun intended). The show ended at 10:00 pm. I realized I had forgotten about my laundry. I put my damp laundry in the dryer. It is now 10:17 and the dryer will be going for quite some time...until past my bedtime for a school night.
So, do I wait for the sheets in the dryer or dig up another set of sheets that won't be as great and go to bed now? A tough decision. Instead of making that decision, I have decided to jot down some random thoughts on my blog. Random they shall be.
First of all, LOST is crazy. As I was watching the first episode of the final season tonight, multiple thoughts flickered across my brain such as, "Do I really like this show?", "What in the world?", "I don't get it.", and the like. You tell me. Does that sound like a show worth watching? It makes one wonder.
Well, I think it is. You see, LOST hits a deep nerve with me. In watching the chaos and intense emotions that swell from each episode, I am reminded of how messy life is. The mind-bending plot mirrors the unreal twists and turns that real life take. Why is it that we expect a television show to make perfect sense when life itself rarely does?
Furthermore, LOST is continuing to cultivate the good vs. evil theme that always makes drama appealing. It is becoming more and more apparent that there will arise a clear force of good and an equally though frightening clear force of evil on the island. The conflict will be daunting. The battle will only be in a matter of time. This is my prediction. This is why LOST is compelling.
So, while I have no clue what is going on after watching a confusing sequence (if it can even be called a sequence) of events, I will definitely be watching the show next week.
While I wish to write something even more profound at this moment, I am afraid that my green gum is growing stale, my eyelids are drooping, and my unmade bed is calling my name. Teaching is never as smooth when I run on little sleep. I must pull myself away...
So, do I wait for the sheets in the dryer or dig up another set of sheets that won't be as great and go to bed now? A tough decision. Instead of making that decision, I have decided to jot down some random thoughts on my blog. Random they shall be.
First of all, LOST is crazy. As I was watching the first episode of the final season tonight, multiple thoughts flickered across my brain such as, "Do I really like this show?", "What in the world?", "I don't get it.", and the like. You tell me. Does that sound like a show worth watching? It makes one wonder.
Well, I think it is. You see, LOST hits a deep nerve with me. In watching the chaos and intense emotions that swell from each episode, I am reminded of how messy life is. The mind-bending plot mirrors the unreal twists and turns that real life take. Why is it that we expect a television show to make perfect sense when life itself rarely does?
Furthermore, LOST is continuing to cultivate the good vs. evil theme that always makes drama appealing. It is becoming more and more apparent that there will arise a clear force of good and an equally though frightening clear force of evil on the island. The conflict will be daunting. The battle will only be in a matter of time. This is my prediction. This is why LOST is compelling.
So, while I have no clue what is going on after watching a confusing sequence (if it can even be called a sequence) of events, I will definitely be watching the show next week.
While I wish to write something even more profound at this moment, I am afraid that my green gum is growing stale, my eyelids are drooping, and my unmade bed is calling my name. Teaching is never as smooth when I run on little sleep. I must pull myself away...
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