Friday, Friday, Gotta Sightread on Friday

Today was actually a thoroughly enjoyable experience. Everyone was working their tails off on sight-reading for district festival. Well, except for first hour Vocal Music Exploratory, which was pretty relaxed.

Earlier in the week, Lizzy had the sixth graders make playing cards with rhythmic notes and rests on them. Yesterday and today, she had them get into groups and play "Measure!" which is similar to "Uno!" in that you go around in a circle and the object is to get rid of all your cards. However, the main learning goal is to create a measure in a particular meter using your cards.

Person 1 puts down a quarter note, person two could put down a half note, person three would then either have to put down a card with 2 eighth notes, a quarter note, or a quarter rest to complete a measure in 4/4 time. Otherwise, he picks up a card and continues. If he puts down an incorrect card OR doesn't call "Measure!" when he's completed the measure, another player may call him on his mistake or call "Measure!" and player 3 must then pick up not only the entire discard pile, but take a random card from the hand of the person who called him out.

It's a lot more fun than it sounds, particularly when played by eleven-year-olds at 8 AM.

During planning hour, I worked with Lizzy on an improvisation/composition lesson plan for the sixth graders for Tuesday. We had some really great discussion, and while I know it will be good experience no matter what, I think it could turn out really beneficial for everyone!

Spoiler: Part of it involves moving to the beat like they do in class with pop songs, and I think I'm going to use "You & Me" by Tally Hall. As discovered by Monica and myself, any time you can use a Tally Hall song in a lesson is a win-win situation.

Third and fourth hour seventh grade choirs worked on sight-reading with Lizzy. I circulated, pointing out ways to figure out the answer to errors, answering questions, and of course reporting back to Lizzy if there were a few students who were woefully unprepared for their final exam, or if there were some who were surprisingly adept at solfege and note names. Overall, I think these two classes came to trust me a bit more because I started showing them that I do actually know my stuff.

Approaching fifth hour, I got a little intimidated because I would be leading the eighth graders in sight-reading. However, Lizzy was incredibly encouraging (as usual) and I stepped up my energy. They breezed through the Primary level SAB right away, so I whipped out the intermediate.

Of course I am always a fan of students learning multiple clefs, so I made the girls sight-read in bass clef! The sopranos were a bit concerned, but they sort of got it. The altos, expectedly, had little problem with it, and if the guys were a bit smug, they kept it to themselves.

When they sang through it as a group, I caught myself watching the music up on the board more than the choir. What do beginning teachers do? They look at the music, not the choir. I had to force myself to assume that most of the notes were right (they really were, and I could tell by ear when they weren't, either because of the chord or because of a section slightly falling apart). Tearing my eyes away from the front projection board, I saw that at least 90% students were using Curwen hand signals, were singing confidently, and fixing their own mistakes or helping their neighbors with their mistakes. Of course, the goal is to get that to 100%, but I thought, "Not bad for a Friday."

I ran through some music with a small group of girls singing some two-part music at Solo & Ensemble on Saturday, and Lizzy went on to Advanced SAB sight-reading with the fifth hour. At the end of class, the small ensemble performed their two pieces for their classmates. They clammed up a little bit out of nerves and intimidation, but were much more in tune than they were on Tuesday, and infinitely more so than on Monday. I've only known them for a week and I was proud of them.

I had a fair amount of sympathy for them, as I know all too well that ideal performing conditions do not constitute a bored peer group stretching out in a glassy-eyed ocean on the choir risers before you. However, their friends were far more supportive of them than any Voice Area Recital crowd at my university.

Sixth hour I sat back and Lizzy took over sight-reading, which was a blessing because while the level of ability is the same as fifth hour, the level of giving-a-crap in that class period is not even a registerable number. Lizzy pushed and pushed and about halfway into class, the choir started to give back to her and show her what they can do.

Turns out if eighth graders realize that they could get a lower rating than the seventh graders if they don't step it up, they'll...step it up.

The best part of my day was during sixth hour, as terrifying as that class was in the beginning. Lizzy had just worked with the men, encouraging them in their endeavors because they were getting the pitches/solfege and were singing with lovely tone. She moved over to the sopranos (Part I), and the Part II girls immediately caught my eye. As soon as Lizzy walked in front of Part II, all of the girls shifted to try and see the music on the board. I decided that this was worth watching.

There are a few chatty girls in Part II and one or two downright mean girls who can do really well if they put their minds to it. I hadn't seen this part of them until today.

By the time Lizzy went to work with the Part I ladies, every single girl on Part II was signing in rhythm and audiating their part. How could I tell they were audiating? (Singing in their heads) The looks on their faces were ones of intense study and focus, and most of them lingered on some notes, trying to hear them and figure out where they went. I could tell that one of the "problem" girls in the back was at first over-signing with large gestures to be sarcastic, but she gradually got herself wrapped in the exercise.

It was a truly empowering and moving moment. When the choir sang through the exercise, it was obvious that Part II had been working their butts off on their part. When Lizzy let the students grab their things and then head back to their seats for afternoon announcements (right before school lets out) I told her about how every single girl in Part II had been working incredibly hard. She spoke to the class about it, rewarded Part II with Jolly Ranchers, and was very uplifting and encouraging towards the class as a whole.

The guys looked at me during Lizzy's speech like I had betrayed them to be crucified. "We worked hard too!" They stage-whispered in my direction. I walked over and bent down next to them.

"I know," I said, "But there are so many more on Part II that it was compelling to watch them work. Miss Bennett knows you did really well today, I know you did, and you should too." They still looked marginally upset, so I added, "You know, you don't need candy to tell you that you did a good job."

"I do!" one protested, and the others laughed.

"No," I laughingly replied, "You want candy. You don't need it." I leaned in. "You're above needing candy to validate your performance. Now show them that you're above it every time you sing."

The high-fives I got from those four eighth-grade boys were quite possibly the highlight of my week.

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.

Alpha Dog/Staph Meeting

Every day it seems like the days before it are all blurred together.

Yesterday, I played the name game and led warm-ups for all the choirs. Lizzy commented that I could be more commanding in my gesture (conducting), body language, and inflection. Today, for the sake of time, I just played the name game with the students, and the rest of the class period Lizzy worked on sight-reading with them.

During one of the larger classes, when I asked all the students to change seats so I could truly test my name memory, there were quite a bit of students climbing over chairs. The problem was in my wording: I had said, "Please move to another seat," and by the time I was saying, "responsibly and safely," they were already on the move and chatting. Now, the chairs are velcroed together in sets of two and three, but it was still wildly unsafe, and clearly against the rules of Lizzy's classroom.

"Excuse me!" I projected, "Is it responsible or safe to be climbing over chairs?"

They either ignored me or didn't hear me. I didn't care which: I needed to show them who was the boss. I waited until they were mostly in their seats and starting to simmer down.

"No," I protested, "Is climbing over chairs responsible or safe?"

Half the class murmured a "no," but it wasn't enough.

"Is climbing over chairs responsible or safe?"

"No," was the general consensus.

"Okay, then remember that when you go back to your seats in a few minutes." I then proceeded with the game. At the end I reminded them, "Now, responsibly and safely--so not climbing over chairs-- return to your original seats." And it went smooth as honey. Lizzy was taking notes and was pleased with my progress in commanding respect and attention.

I have to say, waiting for quiet every time the students start chatting feels absurd, but establishing my authority was worth it.

What better way to end a day full of establishing authority as well as a rapport with students, than to spend 45 minutes listening to irritating disciplinary policy and inane questions. You guessed it, we had a staff meeting.

Every organized meeting has one of those people. You know the one: she either asks questions that can be answered with common sense (otherwise known as thinking about a potential answer before asking said question), or presents a ludicrous and obscure "what if" scenario. Sometimes she is lovable enough that no one hates her, but most of the time it's almost unbearable.

Of course, I knew exactly which staff member she would be, because she never raised her hand to wait to be called on, interjected whenever she felt like it, and whenever she was called on for a question, everyone around me shifted uncomfortably/rolled their eyes/sighed heavily. Let's call her Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and the principal Charlotte Lucas.

EXAMPLE

Charlotte was explaining to the faculty that at no point can they leave their classes alone with a parapro (legal reasons).

Lady Catherine: Well, what if I have to run to the bathroom--

Charlotte: Nnnno.

LC: --can I ask another teacher to come in and watch my class?

Charlotte: Absolutely. However, that teacher cannot leave their class to watch yours.

LC: What if they stand between classes?

Staff: *SIGH IN UNISON*

Charlotte: What, like...how do you mean?

LC: You know, watches both classes. (I had images in my head at this point of a teacher being drawn and quartered by two classrooms.)

Charlotte: That...that would be almost impossible.

LC: Well I guess you...I guess...(tapers off)

Later, when discussing not letting volunteers or people not working for the district see you grade in order to protect student privacy, Lady Catherine smugly asked, "Well what if I have a long-term sub? She needs to be able to grade things!"

(Lizzy and I to each other: "THEY WOULD BE EMPLOYED BY THE DISTRICT.")

Charlotte calmly replied, "Of course a long-term sub would be allowed access to grades. I'm talking about volunteers, friends, or spouses. Those kinds of people."

Overall, I do like the staff that I've met.

Do I agree with all the decisions made in the building? No.

Will I still learn a lot from this experience? Absolutely.

Pompeii

Monica was annoyed that I didn't post any First Day details so I figured I'd start there.

My problem on Monday wasn't that I set my alarm too late. 6 am is plenty of time to get up, check my e-mail, get dressed, put on makeup, get my lunch and coffee, and head out the door by 6:45. My problem was that checking my e-mail turned into checking two e-mail accounts, Facebook, Twitter, (maybe Pinterest?), and three webcomics.

And of course, my other problem was scraping the frost off of my windshield when I was running no fewer than five minutes behind schedule. I ended up getting on the freeway about 7, miraculously making a 30-to-40-minute drive in 25.

It wasn't until I got out of my car in the parking lot at Longbourn Middle School that I realized, oh crap, I'd left my CMU Teacher Ed ID on my dresser. In my house. And at 7:30 on a a Monday morning, a good 45-minute drive from my house.

Oh wait, I'm getting my days mixed up. That ID business was today, the day my student teaching coordinator came for a visit. Lovely man, let's call him Col. Fitzwilliam. Of course all turned out well, but I was a bit frantic for a few minutes there. Back to Monday.

Saying that the Monday after Christmas break is "a bit rough," is like saying Pompeii got "a bit toasty." Give students 2 weeks off of school in the middle of the semester and they forget everything. The main problem I saw on Monday, however, was students falling asleep. Granted, they were doing sight-reading practice instead of rehearsing actual pieces, and it wasn't every student, but come on now. Lizzy said the repercussions of break should right themselves within a couple of weeks, but hopefully before finals.

I can't lie, Monday dragged on forever, mostly because I observed all day. I did start learning students' names, and found I remembered a few from each class from when I observed back in December. We started playing a name game, and every day I'm adding a row of students, so I don't get overwhelmed. Apart from that and the notes I took, however, Monday is largely a blur to me.

Lizzy (again, the alias I shall use for my cooperating teacher), is not someone completely unknown to me before student teaching. She knows my parents, and she and I reacquainted little over a year ago at the ACDA State Conference at CMU. We have since been in contact, had dinner and coffee together, and decided that this would be a really wonderful experience to have. Thankfully TEPD (Teacher Ed/Professional Development) at CMU was able to switch me over to another coordinator (since Hertfordshire isn't in my immediate area) and it worked out!

Watching Lizzy work with her students in December was a completely different experience from what it is now. In December, I observed her the two days before the Winter Concert, and helped her out with things on her to-do list. Meanwhile, she was sleepless and about at the end of her rope. Based on circumstances around that time, I can hardly blame her! The choristers were losing energy fast as well, but working hard. However, it left me a bit nervous for what lay ahead.

My doubts were assuaged when I saw her interacting with and teaching her students on Monday. She gives them every ounce of energy that she can, and sometimes more. They reciprocate, and the learning process begins. Questions are thrown at the students like a ball of used bubblegum that they must first extract and examine before throwing the answers back. Excuses are strictly prohibited, occasionally leading into a brief illustration of what would happen in a real-world situation (if you forgot your driver's license instead of your pencil, or if you didn't listen to all the information your boss gave you).

Here's an illustration of something I love about Lizzy's classes:

Today, not five minutes after Lizzy publicly acknowledged that Collins (again, alias) was not paying attention during the sight reading practice, he was the only student to quietly pipe up with the correct answer to a question. Lizzy earnestly thanked him for being involved and giving the right answer that she needed in order to move on.

The student next to Collins smiled and leaned in for a fist bump. Collins grinned, fist-bumped, and the two of them turned their attention back to Lizzy.

That seemingly insignificant scene played out in my mind all day. I think it's because it showed me that Lizzy shows her students she has high expectations of them, and they truly do rise to the challenge when called out in a way that invites them to contribute. Also, the encouragement from Collins' neighbor was touching: he thought it was cool that he got the right answer to a sight-reading question.

That in itself was enough to convince me that this semester will be awesome.

New Year, New School(ish), New Posts

About an hour ago, I decided to resume posting in this blog. I've decided that I suck at literary reviews, but I will probably write whenever I read something that strikes my fancy. I'm currently addicted to A Game of Thrones and its sequels (I really am not a fan of the series title, A Song of Ice and Fire. A more apt title would be A Song of Incest and Treachery), currently working my way through book three, A Storm of Swords.

But that's not what the larger portion of my posts will concern. I decided to reboot this blog because today was my first day student teaching. I will refrain from using true names of people or places, but I'm going to try posting a little bit each day. Every time I've tried to do a small long-term goal, I've failed, but I'm not going to this time, dagnabit. My hope is that in a few years' time, or even in May, I will be able to look back and see my progress in thinking and writing about music education.

Also there may be the occasional rant about seminar, but as those days require me to be up a full two hour later than regular school days, they may not be quite so bad.

So from tomorrow afternoon until the end of April this shall be where Ms. Renas divulges her innermost thoughts about student teaching in the Hertfordshire Consolidated School District, under the supervision and guidance of Elizabeth Bennett, while working with the choirs of Longbourn Middle School.

Yes.