You say, "Mahalo," I say, "Mahara."

Today was the first in a line of 6 student teaching seminars. Many other students complained about trying to find the building it was in. I hadn't been to the location before either, even though it's ten minutes from my house. I simply had the foresight to look at a map beforehand.

I sat with a fellow music major during the seminar, and we got lunch afterwards. It's nice having someone I know in the class; even if we don't have the same coordinator, we still sit next to each other for most of the allotted time and write notes to each other when one of the coordinators gets sassy about a student's question. Let's call my fellow music major friend Kitty.

The first hour of seminar was something I was dreading, as it would be a tutorial on the e-portfolio software, Mahara. However, once I started writing down notes on what the presenter was saying, it got easier to understand. The presenter was honest about the downfalls of parts of the system, thorough in his explanations and examples, encouraged us to tinker with it and make mistakes (all of which can be easily fixed), and answered questions patiently, understanding that it was a lot of information to take in at once.

It was a much more effective presentation than the one I was required to attend over a year ago, wherein two bored young gentlemen showed a room full of students how to submit files for twenty minutes. Thank you, kind presenter, for making me feel less terrified of the insanity of Mahara.

The teacher of the class, who is one of the coordinators, briefly mentioned that we would be learning how to write multiple lesson plans quickly.

"How long did it take you to create a lesson plan at university?" He asked, "2, 3 days? Of course! They're beautiful! But when you're teaching five days a week, and either multiple subjects or multiple classes, you will get wiped out quickly if it takes you that long to create a lesson plan. One of the topics we will discuss in here is how to quickly create effective lesson plans. All we ask for this class is that you give us what you're teaching, how you plan to teach it, and how to determine what the students learned."

"Thank God," I breathed as Kitty and I looked at each other, because it truly is a blessing. I could hear the "Hallelujah" chorus being banged out on the piano by my college voice teacher. No more conflicting lesson plan assignments from various classes, each demanding that their way is the best (nay, only) way to draft a lesson plan. No more verbose scripts to write word-for-word, or vague suggestions from professors scrawled in the margins. No more agonizing for days about how my meticulously carved lesson plan was ground to sawdust in front of the class.

In the words of e e cummings, "i thank you god for most this amazing day."

After seminar abruptly ended, Kitty and I were able to grab lunch and catch up a bit. In discussing our living situations this semester, I realized how thankful I am that I have music educator parents. They understand that at the end of a long day of teaching, I don't have the energy to clean or do chores or cook. At least not at this point, when I'm still getting used to it.

They understand that teaching requires all the energy you have, and sometimes faking more energy than you have after those sleepless nights. Because as Lizzy reminded me, "If you're on your A game, the students MIGHT get to their A- game. If you're on your B game, your students will be on their C game."

They understand that teaching is one of the hardest occupations there is, and that I have barely even dipped my toes into the water yet. I am forever grateful for their support.