Wisdom from Fledgelings

I'm really struggling with one of my 7th grade choirs this semester. In a class of about 25, I can't get anyone to open their mouth and sing. And I've tried EVERY tactic, every angle of attack possible--being gentle and kind, being silly and jumping on chairs, laughing, being serious, scaring it out of them, bringing the 8th graders in to sing with them and convince them choir is "cool", talking about why they are in this class...and dozens more. Seriously.

Anyway, a few weeks ago it was a hopeless class period where they were not putting forth any effort. So instead of getting angry and lecturing them, I just had them get out a piece of paper and answer the following questions:

1. Tell me about something in you life that was hard to do, but you did it anyway. Was it worth it? Why or why not? What did it take to accomplish it?
2. Why do you think you can do hard things? What does it take to do hard things? Why is it worth it?

I was impressed with several responses, but this one just spoke with wisdom beyond her years, and I wanted to share it with ya'll:

"Life wasn't made to be easy, God didn't intend us to get through things without a struggle. Physically and mentally our bodies were made to do hard things and to get them. Yet, in the end it's all worth it. To start off, I can do hard things because very rarely I don't strive to succeed. Most people have that quality like me, when they don't take no for an answer and they always need to overcome the hard tasks. Which is exactly what it takes to aquire those hard tasks. If your mind is always to it and your head is held high anyone can achieve anything. In the end it's always worth it because we feel accomplished and it motivates us to do even more hard things."

Wow. How does a 7th grader KNOW that kind of stuff?!

This is why, in spite of the punks my kids can be, I love my job.

Breaking things...

So...this one time, I came home to see my adorable...err, "manly"...little brother perform in a student-directed version of the Disney musical Newsies (a personal favorite of mine).

I got home right as he was getting into his costume and leaving to go help finish the set before their opening performance. I looked up at him, smiled real big, and said, "Break a..... PAH HAH HAH!" and dissolved into a fit of hysterical laughter.

For any thespians out there, you understand the importance of uttering that phrase and none other before a performance. This is serious business, folks.

But it just sounds WRONG when the role your brother is playing is none other than the token gimp of the show, Crutchy.

Break a leg, lil' bro!

Proud to be a Canadian-made American

(So I wrote the above-showing title before writing this actual post, and I realized the double-entendre contained therein. I am a real-live "Canadian-made American." Cute!)

But that's not what this post is about.

One of my kids brought in a CD today for a project we are presenting in my 6th grade Intro to Music class. They are supposed to write a paragraph about their favorite song--where they first heard it, why they like it, when they listen to it, and talk about 3 "elements of music" (application of vocab) in relation to the song. They then share it and the song with the class.

One cute little boy played for us "Battle Hymn of the Republic". He talked about how it made him feel patriotic. It was sweet.

But in the middle of his presentation, I was putting in his CD and laughed outloud--really loud, in the middle of him talking--as I read the CD face. It was called "Spirit of America" and had an American flag waving proudly against a light blue sky.

In small print, it clearly said, "Made in Canada".

A Characterically-Colorado Run

I walked out into the fresh Colorado air yesterday and was pleasantly surprised to be met with a warm 45 degree temperature and a strange sensation I felt through my sleeves…what was that…warmth? From the sun??

I raced back into my apartment and quickly found my lime green running shorts. I threw them on, eager to take advantage of those Vitamin D enriching rays from the sun gods, and almost giddy with excitement as I envisioned coming home my run without having to wait 20 minutes for my face to thaw out before I tried to use my facial muscles to speak again coherently.

I hopped down the stairs and began running. I felt that warming sun absorbed by my black shirt, warming my whole body, and just smiled. What a simple sensation I so often take for granted. Having lived in below-freezing temperatures for the past month or so, it felt like heaven. I rolled up my long sleeves and skipped happily along, basking in the simple glory of nature’s miracles.

For about 20 minutes. I then happened to look up right as these thick, dark grey clouds suddenly overshadowed my sun. Ugh! Well, at least I’d gotten in 20 minutes of sunshine.

I kept on running in the cooling air, very aware of the rapid change of temperature—I’m used to running in cold weather, no big deal.

But 20 minutes later, I couldn’t do anything but begrudgingly laugh as I saw these tiny bits of styrofoam being tossed down all around me from those ugly, grey clouds. Yep, it was snowing.

So I ran my last 20 minutes home in the steadily falling snow. In my shorts. And waited 10 minutes to talk until my face had successfully thawed. Thank you, Colorado.