Yesterday, I had taken the entire day off. The first half was to take my school choir along with the 5th graders to rehearse their graduation that's coming up in a couple of weeks. We were at our district's Performing Arts Center (PAC) for a little over 2 hours. We just went, rehearsed the graduation procedures and logistics, and returned to school.
That was the 1st half of the day. (When you're a teacher, you take a full day or half a day off.)
The 2nd half of the day I had elected to use for professional development purposes. I wanted to observe another elementary music teacher in my district teach. I chose to observe my friend S who watched my Kodály teaching videos prior to submitting them for certification. By the time I arrived at her school, I had walked in about half way through a 1st grade lesson that was doing kinesthetic activities to teach the quarter note rest. Anyway, once the class was over, I looked at the time and realized I had more time to observe other teachers. I thought, Where can I go to observe another teacher who's really close by? And then it hit me. I went to the new elementary school that opened up this year, the one to which I lost a good chunk of students. My former principal is also there.
So, I went to the new school, and of course, the music teacher, M, was finished with her day. She had a meeting at the end with the principal and assistant principal to discuss what the "specials" team (PE, Art, and Music teachers) were teaching in class. Since they had a meeting, I figured I'd just pop in a few classrooms of former colleagues that were at my school the previous year. This new school is a 2-story school with Kinder, 1st, and 2nd on the bottom floor, and 3rd, 4th, and 5th on the top.
As I walked around the school, there were a few kids, former students, who saw me and called my name attempting to confirm that it was indeed me. I acknowledged them in passing, gave them some hugs, asked how they were doing, explained my presence on campus, and let them get back to their class.
But in the 5th grade hallway, while looking through 1 classroom door window, through my peripheral vision, I saw a kid come out of a classroom down the hall. When I looked over, reacting to what my eye picked up, the next thing I heard was this student yelling in sheer excitement, "It's Mr. Hickey! It's Mr. Hickey!" After that, a line of students, about 5-6 kids, ran to me.
They...ran...to me.
I hugged who I could. They told me how much they missed me, how much fun they remember they had in my music class, that I made it so much fun for them. It was a truly special moment in my heart. I felt so incredibly humbled and undeserving. It made me realize...
I made a difference in these kids' lives. I was...am...important to them.
They ran to me.
"You were the best music teacher ever!" they continued.
"We miss you so much!" others told me.
"I've missed y'all too!" I replied.
A particularly fun(ny) moment was when a few of the 5th graders were explaining to other students who I was since I hadn't taught them, and how I was the "best music teacher". To my former students, I was this long-lost friend. To others, I was a total stranger that evoked a strong emotional reaction from their peers.
Of course, seeing these former students an entire year later, they had gotten taller, boys' voices had gotten deeper, some really skinny kids had filled out more, they were growing.
But that moment is burned into my mind now. They ran to me. You can't buy moments like that, unless it's written in a script, made into a movie, and purchased upon its release on DVD.
This is among the many reasons teachers do what we do. We may be underpaid for everything we do, but the rewards we reap are priceless.
And I will forever remember this moment. I'll miss those kids so much. I only wish them the best.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Thursday, May 5, 2011
If it was easy, everybody would do it!
I come from a highly-educated family. On my mother's side, she's 1 of 6 kids, and each has at least a college diploma. On her side, I have 4 uncles (a pediatrician, chemical engineer, architect, insurance agent) and 1 aunt (a lawyer). My parents both earned Master's degrees, and now Mom's working on completing a Ph.D.
My older brother and sister, and their respective spouses, all have college degrees. So, going to college, in our family, was always a given. It was expected. Once I finished college, I was immediately encouraged to earn my Master's. My parents advised me: "Don't get a job now. Get your Master's over with, because if you go back to school after working for a few years, it'll be much harder to make that adjustment." They were absolutely right.
I'm so glad I followed their advice...so much so that I started grad school the very next month after I finished college. So, I literally went straight through.
But over time, I've realized something. I'm starting to feel as though all my certifications and diplomas reflect a certain level of self-worth. Not only getting the certificate or diploma, but even more so, from the institution conferring it upon me. I earned my Bachelor's at Texas A&M International University. I earned my Master's at Texas State University-San Marcos. I've earned my Kodály Certificate through the OAKE-endorsed Texas State University Kodály Certification Program.
In our world, on planet Earth, it's my understanding that a Doctorate (Ph.D., D.M.A., Psy.D., Pharm.D., Ed.D., J.D., M.D., etc.) is the highest level of academic achievement one can earn, with a Master's being the 2nd highest. Of course, these are documentations implemented by humans to measure someone's commitment to ongoing professional development and excellence. The more you earn, the more reputable you are as an expert in your field...to the point where you are a sought-after to train and present new research on an international level.
That makes me remember something: During one of my semesters in grad school, I called my mom on the phone, worried I couldn't finish because of the level of difficulty of my assignments. She gave me a valuable reality check. "Of course getting a Master's is hard," she said. "If it was easy, everybody would do it!"
So now, I live in a beautiful home, living the American Dream in a city I absolutely love with the man I love, the house I wanted, car I wanted, career I love, and so many more blessings.
I have a Master's, and the only thing harder I can earn is a Ph.D., and if I pursue one, I choose to pursue it in music education.
But the only university around here that offers a Ph.D. in music education is the University of Texas at Austin (UT). Other universities in Texas and other states offer this degree, but I'd have to relocate, and that is NOT an option. UT is a school I've applied to twice before, and got rejected from twice: once for the Master's (before I landed at Texas State), and again for the Ph.D. Both times, I had applied for the music theory program. Now, because my husband happens to be a UT alum, and also because our home is consequently adorned with some UT décor, I feel even more pressed to get a degree from UT...but not just any degree: the highest and hardest degree in my favorite concentration, from one of the most competitive higher learning institutions in the country (if not the world).
Can I do this? Why should I do this? What do I have to prove? If I have to prove anything, to whom do I have to prove it? Is it just because I'd love for people to address me with "Doctor" before my name? Well, that's a little vain, isn't it? Is it because I'd love to see the letters "Ph.D." appear after my name on a business card? That's probably vanity all over again, and those are probably the worst reasons to take on something like this.
How do we as a society measure worth? I've heard this saying before, "The more you know, the more you're worth." That holds great truth when it comes to job hunting and retention. If someone came up to me and said, "Give me every reason why I shouldn't fire you right now," I could only respond: "I hold 2 degrees in music, I've completed my Kodály certification from an OAKE-endorsed program where I studied with 5 internationally renowned master teachers for 3 years, I can read, write, speak, and understand 3 languages fluently (English, Spanish, ASL), I excel in my written and verbal communication skills, I'm certified to teach both GT and all levels of music from PK - 12th grade, I'm proficiently skillful when using technology, the administration has evaluated my teaching several times and has determined that I exceed expectations overall, and I'm the only one on this campus who can do my job the way it's supposed to be done."
So, if all that (and possibly more) is enough justification for me keeping my job, why should a Ph.D. matter? Why does it matter so much to me that I get one? The only people in my school district who hold Doctorates are usually administrators at the district level, not elementary music teachers. Besides, I know for a fact that my school district wouldn't pay me extra for having a Ph.D.
So why do I want one?. I sure don't need it. I just want it...very badly. I want to feel a certain way about myself that I feel only UT accepting me and conferring on me the highest possible degree would make me feel. But I'm a very lazy person, and that type of person shouldn't pursue such a difficult workload. It would be a massive time commitment, not to mention a costly one. And yet, those 3 little letters, Ph.D., mean the world to me.
Before I even apply, I have to face and conquer many inner demons, including (but not limited to), my utter hatred for the GRE (which stems from my hatred of standardized tests in general).
I don't know if this will ever happen. I obsess and obsess over it. But every time I walk the UT campus and see students with their backpacks, I think to myself, "What do they have that I don't, and how can I get it?" I view UT students like an elite intellectual club that I yearn to join.
If I go through with it and push myself, I just have to remember what Mom told me: "If it was easy, everybody would do it."
My older brother and sister, and their respective spouses, all have college degrees. So, going to college, in our family, was always a given. It was expected. Once I finished college, I was immediately encouraged to earn my Master's. My parents advised me: "Don't get a job now. Get your Master's over with, because if you go back to school after working for a few years, it'll be much harder to make that adjustment." They were absolutely right.
I'm so glad I followed their advice...so much so that I started grad school the very next month after I finished college. So, I literally went straight through.
But over time, I've realized something. I'm starting to feel as though all my certifications and diplomas reflect a certain level of self-worth. Not only getting the certificate or diploma, but even more so, from the institution conferring it upon me. I earned my Bachelor's at Texas A&M International University. I earned my Master's at Texas State University-San Marcos. I've earned my Kodály Certificate through the OAKE-endorsed Texas State University Kodály Certification Program.
In our world, on planet Earth, it's my understanding that a Doctorate (Ph.D., D.M.A., Psy.D., Pharm.D., Ed.D., J.D., M.D., etc.) is the highest level of academic achievement one can earn, with a Master's being the 2nd highest. Of course, these are documentations implemented by humans to measure someone's commitment to ongoing professional development and excellence. The more you earn, the more reputable you are as an expert in your field...to the point where you are a sought-after to train and present new research on an international level.
That makes me remember something: During one of my semesters in grad school, I called my mom on the phone, worried I couldn't finish because of the level of difficulty of my assignments. She gave me a valuable reality check. "Of course getting a Master's is hard," she said. "If it was easy, everybody would do it!"
So now, I live in a beautiful home, living the American Dream in a city I absolutely love with the man I love, the house I wanted, car I wanted, career I love, and so many more blessings.
I have a Master's, and the only thing harder I can earn is a Ph.D., and if I pursue one, I choose to pursue it in music education.
But the only university around here that offers a Ph.D. in music education is the University of Texas at Austin (UT). Other universities in Texas and other states offer this degree, but I'd have to relocate, and that is NOT an option. UT is a school I've applied to twice before, and got rejected from twice: once for the Master's (before I landed at Texas State), and again for the Ph.D. Both times, I had applied for the music theory program. Now, because my husband happens to be a UT alum, and also because our home is consequently adorned with some UT décor, I feel even more pressed to get a degree from UT...but not just any degree: the highest and hardest degree in my favorite concentration, from one of the most competitive higher learning institutions in the country (if not the world).
Can I do this? Why should I do this? What do I have to prove? If I have to prove anything, to whom do I have to prove it? Is it just because I'd love for people to address me with "Doctor" before my name? Well, that's a little vain, isn't it? Is it because I'd love to see the letters "Ph.D." appear after my name on a business card? That's probably vanity all over again, and those are probably the worst reasons to take on something like this.
How do we as a society measure worth? I've heard this saying before, "The more you know, the more you're worth." That holds great truth when it comes to job hunting and retention. If someone came up to me and said, "Give me every reason why I shouldn't fire you right now," I could only respond: "I hold 2 degrees in music, I've completed my Kodály certification from an OAKE-endorsed program where I studied with 5 internationally renowned master teachers for 3 years, I can read, write, speak, and understand 3 languages fluently (English, Spanish, ASL), I excel in my written and verbal communication skills, I'm certified to teach both GT and all levels of music from PK - 12th grade, I'm proficiently skillful when using technology, the administration has evaluated my teaching several times and has determined that I exceed expectations overall, and I'm the only one on this campus who can do my job the way it's supposed to be done."
So, if all that (and possibly more) is enough justification for me keeping my job, why should a Ph.D. matter? Why does it matter so much to me that I get one? The only people in my school district who hold Doctorates are usually administrators at the district level, not elementary music teachers. Besides, I know for a fact that my school district wouldn't pay me extra for having a Ph.D.
So why do I want one?. I sure don't need it. I just want it...very badly. I want to feel a certain way about myself that I feel only UT accepting me and conferring on me the highest possible degree would make me feel. But I'm a very lazy person, and that type of person shouldn't pursue such a difficult workload. It would be a massive time commitment, not to mention a costly one. And yet, those 3 little letters, Ph.D., mean the world to me.
Before I even apply, I have to face and conquer many inner demons, including (but not limited to), my utter hatred for the GRE (which stems from my hatred of standardized tests in general).
I don't know if this will ever happen. I obsess and obsess over it. But every time I walk the UT campus and see students with their backpacks, I think to myself, "What do they have that I don't, and how can I get it?" I view UT students like an elite intellectual club that I yearn to join.
If I go through with it and push myself, I just have to remember what Mom told me: "If it was easy, everybody would do it."
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