And the countdown begins...

It's been two weeks since I last posted. On Friday the 30th we had a half day, followed by a week-long spring break. It wasn't very restful, but it was certainly enjoyable, even though I had a lot of work to do.

The kids were absolutely nuts the week before break. This was for two reasons, both of which I believe are perfectly valid:
(1) It was the week before spring break, and
(2) There was a full moon.

I always thought people were exaggerating about the full moon affecting student behavior, but ho. ly. cow. Classroom personalities were reversing all over the place. It was almost too much for me to handle. I didn't want to relive that week at the end of it.

However, the end of my sixth grade class was quite nice. A surprising amount of them raised their hands high when Lizzy asked who was considering taking choir in the fall. It was touching. Their grades are due at the end of the week, so I'm going through and writing comments about each one. This class will always have a special place in my heart because they were the first I had from beginning to end, even if it was only four weeks.

I feel like my lesson plans are in a good place, thanks in large part to some charts Lizzy made that have been helping me visually as I plan. My coordinator is observing me with a choir for the first time since January. Since then he's watched me with the sixth graders, I think partially because it's closer to his comfort level. He's liked my lesson plans for those classes, so we'll see how he likes what elements I've incorporated into my choir lesson plans.

It's been a weird semester between Lizzy and me. Since this is public, I can't really go into the issues in depth. All I really want to say is that I've been struggling with dealing with our personality differences, and this has affected my communication with her, and how I evaluate my own teaching.

Yesterday I finally had to just stop myself and write out my thoughts in a small journal I keep for just such occasions.

"Look," I wrote, "You only have three more weeks. Just go with the flow and do what you know how to do. Kick as much ass as possible. you can be yourself with the students, but you need to build a wall. You can take a comment personally, you just can't let her or the students see that you take it personally." So I kicked it yesterday, and by the end of the day I felt a lot better about everything.

I think that this entire semester I've been so focused on "DON'T TAKE EVERYTHING PERSONALLY HOW DARE YOU DO THAT" when that is completely against how I function. Some things I can't help but take personally, regardless of how I know they were or were not meant. However, I can put up a membrane: things can come in but I won't let my personal feelings come out. That's what happened yesterday, and it worked. I don't know if it makes sense to anyone else but it does to me.

The teflon barrier where I can just not let comments get to me as much in the first place? That's something I'm working on gradually. I just can't try and use a barrier that's not ready, or it'll get destroyed. Like trying to keep away invaders with a half-built wall. I'm working on it.

Three weeks. Really scary, but I'll be happy to finally reach the finish line.

Just call me Sandra Bullock...

because speed is the word of the day.

Exhibit A: First Hour Quandary

At the end of last week, I made it clear to Lizzy and to the sixth graders that we would be introducing a new element of music this week. I made it clear to Lizzy that it would be form, and that I was thinking of introducing an improv/comp element to the class toward the end of this week, as the class ends on Thursday. She seemed to have no problem with this.

Today, I introduced the element of form to the sixth graders, after we worked on some rhythmic and melodic dictation. I pushed them a little too far in the rhythmic dictation, so that was tricky to deal with (gave them dotted quarter, eighth; we'd just learned to count and say that rhythm twenty minutes prior). I had to hurry to get even a little bit done with form today, and I think I added one too many things in the last couple of minutes of class. They probably won't remember it all tomorrow morning.

After school, once I'd had some time to look back on first hour and digest it, I had an idea for a form/composition in-class small group project. I was so excited to share it with Lizzy, but she basically shot it down, asking, "You have to think about what prior knowledge they need for that. Are they really ready for it?"

She also said I need to ask myself, "Why do they need to do this? What's the end goal?" Which was a whole other upset in and of itself. It's fun. It fits with the national standards. The kids get to work in a different setting. It's a way to wrap up what we've learned. It's an ASSESSMENT TOOL. THE END. Okay, done with that.

In my explanation of my idea, I'd said clearly that it was an idea that had just come to me, that I could toy with it and try to make it work with what we have. I feel like she didn't hear that part of the explanation. Literally, sometimes I tell her a story and she won't have heard the beginning of it. Granted, in those instances she'll ask me to repeat it, so at least I know she didn't hear it but wants to. There are also times when we just misunderstand each other, and this may have been one of those times (from either end).

This was one of those rare occasions when I really just wanted her to come out and say what was being implied: that I hadn't moved quickly enough with them this term to prepare them for this task. I'm not sure if she meant to make that point, but that's what I interpreted.

Of course, I also really didn't want to hear it. Because I already knew it was true. I did a rhythm composition group project with the December/January class, and they enjoyed it and were quite successful. However, they'd been learning from Lizzy for four weeks. She'd gotten a lot accomplished, and they were ready for it. We didn't do that project with the Jan/Feb class, partially because of the dynamics in the group, but also because they were in a different place with the class than the previous group.

I felt like the message was, "You prepared them on your own, so they're not ready because of you."

Fine. I made mistakes. But if you knew that before, you could have told me last week that you didn't think they were ready for the small group in-class project, instead of letting me hang out to dry until two nights before I want to do it.

I fumed the entire drive home, then took a walk to clear my head. That was incredibly helpful. I decided to just adjust. Scrap the comp project, finish discussing/discovering form, and get into 3/4 time a bit.

This sixth grade class has been a lesson in many things, one of them being speed.

EXHIBIT B: Beep Beep Beep

Yesterday after sixth hour, Lizzy told me she'd be setting an actual timer for 15 minutes for each piece I'd be rehearsing. An extra nudge for speed and efficient rehearsing.

Today I completely forgot she'd set it during third hour, so I only went for ten minutes. I then had to run off and observe the band director, and came back to rehearse for the last 15 minutes of fourth hour.

The timer would beep every five minutes, throwing me off a little and sometimes making me lose my train of thought. Sometimes, however, it made me realize how much I'd been talking, and how much I really needed to push on through.

I got more used to the timer as the day progressed, to the point where it was merely a friendly reminder during sixth hour. And whaddaya know: we got the most done in sixth hour!

Correlation? Oh, perhaps.

Exhibit C: Lesson Tweaks

After every class today I revised my lesson a little bit. I didn't have much time to shift gears between third and fourth hour because I was observing the bands the entire time. Fourth hour went okay, though. Between fourth and fifth hour, my "You'll Never Walk Alone" lesson improved, and it did so again between fifth and sixth hours. Then, after tripping up a bit in "My Heart Will Go On" during fifth hour, I was able to rework it, take it apart further, and make it work for sixth hour. As the day progressed, my lessons grew more effective because I was planning out exactly how to best use my allotted time.

Goal: Make that happen right off the bat!

Honey Badger

Today was one of those weird days. Just...one of those. I felt okay about how first hour went, but it wasn't great. I would have changed a lot of things, and I veered off into territories I didn't even want to get into and that had nothing to do with my objective. When Lizzy and I talked about my lesson, I got this vibe like she was disappointed in me, or thought that because I'm not afraid to make mistakes that I've stopped preparing and thinking through my lessons. I work my butt off.

I told her as such during second hour, and she replied, "No, it's obvious that you put thought and effort into these lessons. We just need to hone the focus a bit more." She gave me some thoughts on objectives and anticipatory sets that really helped this evening when I was prepping for tomorrow. I've been putting energy and thought into my lessons, just not in the right places. I feel much better prepared for tomorrow than I did for today, probably because I know exactly what I want the students to take away, and exactly why they need to know it. That "why" has danced around me thus far, but I believe I finally nabbed it.

What are we working on in sixth grade right now? Singing healthily in different registers! Why? To improve accuracy when singing in different parts of your voice, and also so you don't have to have throat surgery like Adele. Already have a girl in eighth grade who has beginnings of nodes, and it's largely due to where she talks. I talked to her mom (who had nodes removed in her 20's for similar reasons) and I agreed to help her find the right speaking register. Whereas most girls speak far too low, I think this girl may speak too high. We shall find out!

Yesterday was a seminar day. We were split up into trios for interviews. Two people would interview one person, and then we switched around a couple of times. Each time we got a new set of questions from the lead coordinator. I was the first person in my group to be interviewed. It went...not awful! I only used a few "ums" toward the beginning, and then caught myself every time I wanted to use them. One thing I could have done better is use my hands more. It wasn't the most accurate idea of how an interview would go, but it certainly was helpful!

I was told by my interviewers and by the coordinator that I gave good answers. When asked about materials in the classroom, I gave specific examples of useful materials and how/why I use them. When asked about how I would handle any one of the numerous hot topics in teaching now, I gave specific examples of how music relates to subjects across the board. Surprise! The topic I chose to discuss was standardized testing. I figured I'd advocate as much as possible within the six questions they asked me.

[Hey Kirsten reading this sometime down the road: remember, specificity is key.]

There was one question that was aggravating and disorienting, and one question that...challenged my creativity. The aggravating one was the last one, and went as such: "Today you are going to leave this interview and think of one thing you wish you'd told us. What is that one thing?"

As my interviewers and I had already broken character a few times, I felt no qualms with saying, "Doesn't the first part of that imply [infer? whatever] that regardless of what I tell you, I will still find something I'll wish I'd told you? Ugh." And sure enough, after that interview I wish I'd said something about oh, I dunno, cello.

The other less aggravating and more challenging question went as follows: "Choose three animals that you feel best represent three of your strengths in the classroom. Explain why you chose them."

I felt like I was in middle school.

I wanted to just immediately blurt out "HORSE!" but I had no real reason to that I could think of. The next animal that popped into my head was the honey badger. I planned my words very carefully.

"I would have to say that the first animal that represents a strength of mine is the honey badger," I began, as my interviewers gave a couple of good-humored snorts. "The honey badger has zero fear. I have zero fear of getting up in front of a class and making mistakes, because at the end of the day I'm a better teacher and a better person because of it."

Animal cliches were popping into my head left and right. "The second animal," I slowly phrased, "would be a mule. There's that old cliche, 'stubborn as a mule.' I am stubborn in the sense that I will keep at a lesson until the students understand it. I will never give up on them." I couldn't think of any other descriptors in the moment, but a few hours later, the word "determined" popped into my head and I wished I'd used it.

"My final attribute I want to address is my energy in the classroom. I try to be as positive and excited to learn as possible, and students feed off of that. So I guess in that sense I'm like the dog or puppy that greets you when you come home at the end of the day. You could have the worst day ever and feel awful, but that dog will always be excited to see you. No matter how horrible you feel, that excited puppy will lift your spirits and change your attitude. You could walk into my classroom and be having the worst day of your week, but instantly start smiling because of the positive energy I get rolling in the rehearsal."

Honey badger, mule, puppy.

As strange as those answers were, and for how randomly they popped into my head, I think I made them work for me.

So what animals reflect your strengths?

Just call me the Swan Queen

Today was the first day of the new sixth grade. I was incredibly nervous, even though I had everything planned out.

It went pretty darn well.

There were no major points of disorder, I didn't really have to whip out the Queen Victoria stare except to give an example of "things you don't want to have to see in this class." There's one student with a behavior plan, but he was perfectly fine today. Apparently he does okay in his electives because they're first thing in the morning. There are a couple other boys who could easily cause some issues, but I never had to really reel anything back in like with the last class on their first day. We'll see how it goes!

There's also a tiny, sweet girl who's an English Language Learner (Latina). I was impressed that she was able to follow along with the "class expectations quiz" they filled out as we went along in class.

Two more boys are in the class who have a parapro with them in the room at all times. One left class fairly early. I think the parapro said he has some mild autism. I hope I can connect with him on some level. The other is outspoken, but generally pretty pleasant. He's sometimes rude, but doesn't really understand when he's being so. I called on him frequently to face forward, or put my hand over my mouth to show him that he needed to stop talking, and he smiled and acquiesced. I wasn't sure how effective I was, but Lizzy said she noticed he responded well to me and that with someone else it could have easily gone awry. I did a little fist-pump inside my head.

Overall, it went quite well. I was confident and took charge. And Lizzy said I was relaxed. Which was great, because I was going a mile a minute inside. It was like a swan on the water: serene and natural on top, but under the water the legs are churning like crazy. It's a bit of a worn analogy, but it really fits.

Until festival is over, all I'm doing with the rest of the choirs is just running warm-ups. By the time festival is over, I'll be halfway through the sixth grade unit and will be able to handle doing that and a choir lesson or two (or four) in the same day (hopefully). And also Lizzy won't be going nuts every day, agonizing over festival.

Today when I was in the practice room (where I go if I need to get some work done) I worked out my lesson plan for sixth grade for tomorrow. Thankfully I was able to finish it during the day, so I was able to hang out with some friends tonight. It was a good night: I was able to relax and not worry about teaching. Even at lunch, I made myself go to one of the teacher lounges for lunch so I could do some socializing and take a break that I so desperately needed.

Yes, I would say that overall today was a success. I'm nervous about tomorrow, but I'm sure it will go well!

EDIT: I forgot to mention this tidbit of hilarity from third hour.

Lizzy was talking with the girls about how she wanted a more womanly sound. She got to talking about how there's so many wonderful things about being a woman. "Don't ever believe that it's always better to be a man. Trust me, I've been one." She stopped and thought about that statement. "Wait, no...."

But the damage was done.

"WHAT?!"

"NO THAT CAME OUT WRONG FORGET I SAID IT"

Meanwhile I was sitting in the practice room, lesson planning, and I wanted to pop my head out for comedic emphasis, but I resisted that urge. She was embarrassed enough to have let that sentence pass her lips, and she needed to continue with rehearsal. I'm sure she meant to say something about living with her husband, but it got lost in translation.

"Mrs. Bennett," I heard one girl proclaim, "You just made my year."

"Jaws was never my scene and I don't like Star Wars."**

Today was better than yesterday. Much better. It's funny, yesterday I went in excited to get going, and it was a terrible day. Today I went in almost dreading it, yet grimly determined to get through, and it turned out fine.

There were a few hours I wanted to carve out my ovaries with a spoon (to which I'm sure many of you can relate), but by the time lunch was halfway done, I was perfectly fine. Maybe it's because fourth hour was super awesome today in sight-reading while third hour fell on their faces. Those seventh grade boys are insanely squirrelly, but when they go for it, they sound fantastic. Lizzy asked them at one point to sing like they were twenty, and their sound became so much rounder and fuller that I turned around from the reading I was doing in my little corner.

My lesson with first hour on form went okay. My main objective was allowing them to experience different forms in music, and I guided them through the form of some songs. Before they left this class at the end of the day (because it was unclear if I would be teaching again tomorrow), I wanted them to at least hear different forms from what they hear every day. By the end of my half of class tomorrow, one goal is for them to be able to identify all the sections in Queen's "Bicycle Race," by performing specific actions for each section. If I had another day, we would compose contrasting phrases and put them together into different forms to perform. For now, however, we're arranging and rearranging melody cards we've been using in class.

In case you're wondering, "Bicycle Race" is in rondo form: ABACADBA.

And maybe a tertiary goal of mine is to get "Bicycle Race" stuck in all the sixth graders heads for the rest of the day. [insert evil cackle here]

**I in fact adore Jaws and really enjoy Star Wars...at least the film that was out when this song was released

Rocky V-Day

It's been an up and down sort of day. I don't really want to relive it.

Up: Woke up and watched this video before leaving for the middle school.

Down: Took 45 minutes to get to school because of snow.

Up: Dressed really cute and got compliments on my outfit. Felt like such a teacher with my flowy cardigan and white blouse.

Up: Got a valentine and a candy from one girl in third hour, and another from a girl in sixth.

Down, down, WAY down: Fourth hour was abysmal. Discipline problems galore, and I was teaching the whole class all hour and couldn't figure out how to handle it without letting them see me think through it. Cried during lunch because I was so torn up about it.

Up: Figured out with Lizzy that tomorrow I am going to lay down the law during fourth hour. That is the primary objective tomorrow, and any musical learning will be almost secondary. I need to establish that I mean business.

Up: Had an assembly halfway through fifth hour.

Up: Sixth hour was really great for Lizzy today; it was wonderful to watch.

Up: Worked on lesson planning strategies with Lizzy after school today and got some ideas for first hour tomorrow.

Down: Had to go home, and couldn't work on lesson plan right away. Couldn't get my mind off of it until we sat down to dinner.

Up: Got to talk to Monica on my way home from school! :)

Up: Went to Richter's Chalet in Dearborn for dinner with my parents, grandmother, sister, and her husband and baby!

Down: Realized that, oh crap, there are university student observers coming in tomorrow to the school, and that if they are there during fourth hour, I absolutely WOULD NOT feel comfortable establishing my authoritah in front of them. Also I'm not who they came to see. Freaked out and called/texted/emailed Lizzy about it.

Up: While alone at the house, worked on my first hour lesson plan for an hour and a half, just working and reworking sections of it. It was really awesome and productive. I felt much better about tomorrow once I started it.

Up: Lizzy called me and confirmed that we will go lesson plan for fourth hour during planning period tomorrow, and that the observers are coming in for just third hour. She said she would never put me up for the full hour in front of them, especially during fourth hour. We chatted for a few minutes and all was well.

Up: Listened to most of the Red Wings game, which was awesome!!! 21 home wins! Huzzah!

Overall, the ups outweigh the downs, but some of those downs were pretty rough for a while there.

Tomorrow will be so much better. I'm so ruddy prepared for first hour, it's ridiculous.

Bring it on.

Teacher Voice

Yesterday's talk with sixth hour seemed to be exactly what they needed. Even though they were super chatty, they sang quite well and worked their butts off. So here's hoping the chattiness diminishes next week and they keep it up.

I taught third hour for the whole time today, and it was EXHAUSTING. Though that was mostly because the entire time I was talking, I was talking loudly and right on my cords. By the end of class I could hardly sing any of the phrases, and the girls noticed. They sort of gave a look like, "Whoa, something's wrong." I couldn't speak very audibly at all by the time fourth hour rolled around. I kicked myself for not properly projecting. Next week I need to figure out my teacher voice, which doesn't involve yammering loudly in my usual register, but actually supporting.

Overall it's been an okay week. The good outweighed the bad, I got up in front of the students a lot, and found that I'm actually having an effect on students' lives.

It might be a bit soon to say, but I think this is what I want to do. Guess we'll see how the rest of the semester pans out. And if I still have the courage to teach once I've sat through parent teacher conferences. There's a great quote I read from a principal who decided to leave the profession: "If I could be a principal at an orphanage, I would stay. But the parents are killing me."

Chatted with a grad student friend today about working with middle school boys' voices. I'm trying to tap as many resources as possible and mull over all the information. Hopefully I'll be talking with some other teacher friends soon...including my sister! I'm planning on talking with her about the same issues when I see her early next week.

Next week starts week 6, which is almost halfway through student teaching. Mildly terrifying. For now, it's good enough for me that it's Friday, I've made it through the week, and everything went fairly well. Time to have some frozen yogurt and watch 30 Rock.

Good day that is my name

Yesterday Lizzy wasn't feeling at all well, so she called off and had a sub. It was uneventful and involved lots of Hairspray, so I didn't really feel like updating last night. Also I forgot until this morning when I woke up. I'm over it.

Because today was awesome. Not every class, but my time in third hour was magical. I'm not being facetious. It was wonderful and I felt like a real, effective teacher.

I always look forward to third hour, because it's our only all-female group and they're suuuuper sharp. They read quickly, they learn quickly, and they have a generally good tone.

Today my plan was to teach the first page of Dodi Li, and just show them how it repeated at various points throughout the piece.

We went through the first page a few times, putting parts together, and it went really well, so I had them go through and label the parts ABACADA and Coda. I then asked what element of music we just labeled. A moment of silence, and then a couple of girls quietly said, "Form?"

"YES! Say it again, louder!"

"Form!"

"YES!" And then we were off. "This is a specific form called rondo form. Say 'rondo form.'"

(everyone) "Rondo form!" I wasn't planning on delving into form, but at that point I felt they could handle it, so I rolled with it.

I then described rondo form and wrote out the form of Dodi Li on the board so they could see. I gave other examples such as ABACA, ABACDA, and finally ABACADAEAFGA. They got a kick out of that.

Then I erased all that, leaving only ABACADA Coda on the board. I noted that it looked almost like "Abacadabra," but not quite. One girl piped up with her own phonetic pronunciation of "Abbacadda." I affirmed her suggestion, adding "coda" to the end of it.

"Repeat after me: ABACADA Coda."

"ABACADA Coda!"

"ABACADA Coda is the form of this piece." Aside to Lizzy, "Sounds kind of like a Greek organization or something."

Then one student asked what a coda is. So I used my best vocab skills from EDU 450 and we learned about codas. And THEN someone asked what that symbol was above the last note:

"What a great question!" I replied. "It shows me that you're thinking!" I then drew the symbol on the board, and labeled it a fermata, having them repeat the word back to me. I explained that if a fermata is over or under a note, it means to hold that note until the conductor tells you otherwise.

"Basically, when you get to a fermata, Mrs. Bennett could have you hold that note...for days."

Lizzy gave the class a mischievous look as I said that.

"Nooooooooo!" The girls cried, "Don't give her any ideas!"

Lizzy and I laughed. "Don't worry," I assured, "I'm not giving her any ideas that she hasn't already had."

I then asked them to repeat back to me what a fermata means in music, and they correctly answered, "Hold the note until the conductor tells you otherwise!"

I think my Content Area Literacy professor would be proud of how I handled the vocabulary words today.

There were other successful things I did in that hour, like catching posture and tone problems every single time they became an issue. Normally I would be too wrapped up in the music to notice, but I tore myself away to watch the students. There was also a lot of circling of terms and dynamics, drawing arrows to show melodic contour in a measure, and drawing in the infamous "eyeglasses" to note when you should be paying particularly close attention to the director (this time it was at the ritardando leading into the fermata).

It was just a really successful rehearsal, and I was very excited about it.

And then fourth hour happened.

It's not that fourth hour is bad, they just move slower than third hour does for a multitude of reasons. One of those reasons is that there are a dozen or so boys in the group, over half of whom struggle with their parts. The second reason I'll mention is that the girls in fourth hour are not half as confident as the third hour ladies. I kept begging them to give me more sound because they could hit the notes, but it just wasn't working. We had to stop after basically learning page one.

Bottom line of fourth hour: I need to accept that fourth hour will always move a little slower than third hour, and also I need to make sure all the boys are on pitch and that the whole choir has a good tone before continuing. I think I let the boys overwhelm me, therefore I didn't pay close enough attention to the posture and energy of the rest of the class. I also wanted to move through as much as possible, when this time it would have been better to slow things up. Next time.

I feel like that's as good a place as any to stop for the day. Those were my two classes where the biggest lesson was learned:

Embrace flexibility in the lesson. Be willing to go farther, and also be willing to take a step back if it means ultimate success.

(entry's title courtesy of Good Day by Tally Hall)

Tude.

Today I got to deal with my first minor discipline issue. Not anything huge, just some tude going on. What is "tude," you ask? Don't worry, I got you covered.

Today the only class we had was first hour sixth grade, as it was the first day of exams and Lizzy has second hour planning period. I had the whole hour to work with them on a continuation of what we did yesterday.

After moving to the beat like we did yesterday (and nipping side conversations in the bud!), I asked the students a few questions about what we did yesterday, and informed them of a few things we would try to accomplish today.

I don't remember the exact moment it occurred, but at some point a student sitting right in the front row--let's call him George--decided that he was going to make a sarcastic response to everything I said. The first time or two I gave him a look and he stopped, but one comment was defiant, verging on downright mean.

My tone changed from "let's get down to business," to "defeating the huns," so to speak (...yup).

"No," I said sharply, "That was not appropriate."

The students hadn't really seen me get harsh before, so I heard a few ascending "ooooooh's" arise.

George didn't give me any more lip for the rest of the class, even if he was a bit sullen for a short while when he didn't get placed in a group with his usual buddies. However, he showed he understood the material when he started piping up with suggestions later on in class.

In the twenty minutes before class I split them into different groups than the ones they were in yesterday. Yes, there were some really confident groups yesterday, but there were also one or two super chatty ones wherein the group members got off task easily. I was careful to place one really strong leader in each group, as well as at least one person to balance them and make sure they checked their work. Today they were in six groups of four instead of five groups, making individual contributions that much more important.

The mission for the small group work was similar to yesterday, with the exception that all students had to memorize the four-measure phrase of rhythm they created. The purpose of memorization? Performing with other groups in a "battle of the bands" type situation where the rest of the class would vote on the winning group.

I walked around to each group, checking their progress. After the first round I challenged the groups to have their rhythms complete and memorized for the second time I came around. At that point I should have just given them a time limit and told all the groups to have it performance ready at the end of the time limit. However, I made a second round and checked groups for accuracy, involvement, and teamwork. Until typing just now, I was stumped by what to have them do after I visited their group a second time. It makes infinitely more sense just to have them jump right in to performing and critique. I was just erring on the side of having everyone fully prepared and successful.

When all the groups had shown me they were ready, everyone sat back in their seats and two groups volunteered to go first. I put on "Firework," by Katy Perry (which was a tad fast, but challenged them nicely), and after getting the whole class to feel the beat, the first group performed their rhythm. Classmates volunteered three things they liked, and then three things they could improve on, and the group performed it again. Then group 2 went through the same process.

The next step, which I had told them about before, was putting the two rhythms together. Group 1 performed, then I counted off group 2, and then I counted off both of the groups so that they performed their rhythms together. The class got a huge kick out of it, and the performers realized that it was actually easier to stay on the beat when they listened to the other group performing with them.

I then asked the audience to put up fingers signifying which group they thought "won" the "battle of the bands." The class voted for group 2, and I asked them for three reasons why. They replied that group 2 was more together, louder, and had no memory slips.

At this point I wish I had addressed that the students were critiquing each other not only on musical accuracy, but on expression and teamwork. I wish that I had pointed out how supportive and observant the students were being. I was so concerned about time, however, that I completely flew past that.

The second set of groups got up, and while waiting for group 4 and myself, group 3 took it upon themselves to practice their rhythm.

"What is this group doing?" I asked the class.

"Talking!" was the general answer, but amid that I heard one lonely "Practicing!" cry out.

"Exactly! Practicing!" I then launched into a side note about how professional musicians warm up before they perform, and often will quickly run through some difficult passages before they perform. It wasn't something that was part of my lesson, but the students seemed intrigued.

I ran out of time, so only four groups got to perform. However, all students who weren't performing were actively engaged and contributing to critique. There was a point during the lesson wherein I had to make a decision: is it more important for all students to experience it, or for students to be successful? I think that in this particular case, more students were successful because they really analyzed what was happening with each group's performance.

There were many things I would change, but I'm pretty happy with how today's lesson went. Overall it was a "take charge" kind of day.

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.