"Like I Said..."

As a middle school choir teacher, I would be independently wealthy if I had a dollar for every time I have said the following phrases in class:

"Check your posture."
"It's my turn to talk."
"Like I said..."
"Who's the teacher?"
"How many beats does a quarter note receive?"

I could list many more of these phrases and should probably have a Staples-esque button created for each of those so I can just slap something and have it speak for me instead of wasting my breath over and over again.

Yet, as I folded some neglected towels last night before bed, I pondered how many students I have encountered in my short teaching career of three and a half years. The total: hundreds and maybe thousands by now. Wow. No wonder I repeat things. Teaching is like having kids that never grow up. I get excited to see my 8th graders make progress throughout the year, only to lose them to high school. It's easy to assume the next batch of acne-ridden, braces-sporting 8th grade babies that step into my room the next fall will know what I've already told the 8th graders last year...but, wait! These aren't the same kids! I'm starting over!

Profound, I know. But remembering this little truth gives me so much more grace when I'm singing "B-A-Bay" with 6th graders for the uberanth time. I could play and sing that song while competing in a debate on the properties of aluminum. Maybe not. I don't even know one property of aluminum come to think of it. I'm just sayin', I've played that song more times than seems legal. If I continue teaching, I'll play it that much more. "Throw out the song!", you jeer. No way. "B-A-Bay" is every 6th grade student's favorite song of all time. It stays.

I just rabbit-trailed. The point is that even when I say the same phrases over and over, the ridiculousness of it all is eased by my realizing what a privilege my job is. I get paid to sing "Picking Up a Pepperoni Pizza" with students. I get paid to encourage students to stretch the confines of their comfort zones. I get paid to push students to develop outstanding character and to reach their community with the performing arts. I get paid to listen to angelic voices and to perch on a front row seat in this musical called "Middle School". Who gets paid for such joys? How blessed am I?

Do I always have this perspective? No. But, today I do. Thanks, God, for a great job!