I had originally intended to write separate posts: one on comparing the plight of the X-Men for social acceptance, and one about Fathers' Day. Since we're so close to Fathers' Day (it's tomorrow), I can combine my post to discuss both topics, and they actually fit together pretty well.
Frank and I went to go see X-Men: First Class the other day at the movie theater. If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend it. This is the 4th X-Men movie that has been released (X-Men, X-Men 2: X-Men United, X-Men: Origins, X-Men: First Class). I think this last one is the best one so far. It's a prequel to all the others, but in it, you learn how Professor X gets paralyzed, you learn how Magneto became so evil, and how he got his helmet, you learn how Beast turned blue, and so many other things. The story was intensely good. So suspenseful with excellent visual effects, I'd be ready to watch it again, and I don't say that about many movies.
Anyway, a common theme in these movies is how these characters struggle for acceptance, both within themselves, as well as from society. We learn through these movies that in the history of science, genetic mutation has enabled certain species to evolve in specific ways. Charles Darwin's theory of natural selection plays a role here: the idea of survival of the fittest. But one thing I love about these stories is that through no fault of their own, each character has been blessed (or cursed) with a specific genetic mutation in their DNA. This mutation gives them a special, "super human" ability. It makes them unique and sets them apart from other people. The characters' powers range from any of the following: telepathy (hearing others' thoughts), telekinesis (moving objects with your mind), flight, super fast healing, ice production, weather control, controlling metal, shape-shifting, etc.
In the first couple of movies, the X-Men are adults. They've accepted themselves and their gifts. Accepting their gifts is enough of a struggle, because it's something in them that they may wish they didn't have, as it has the potential of forcing themselves to self-ostracize from "normal" people and enjoying a "normal" life. Since normal human beings, who may either be family or friends, may not understand the gift brought by their own genetic mutation, the "mutant" ends up suffering from closed minds, closed hearts, and a loss of everything they once held dear to them. Their families shut them out because they can't handle how their child has changed, and they feel powerless to do anything about it. The families also shut out their kids for fear of what others might think about their family. We see this in the Harry Potter stories as well. Harry didn't ask to be a wizard. He was passed down the ability from his parents. After they died, he lived with his uncle and aunt, who treated him as if he was sub-human. But he went to Hogwarts where he met new friends and enemies who were just like him, and learned to control his powers.
In the X-Men movies, Professor X learns of where the new mutants are, finds them, and helps them to love themselves exactly as they are. He shows them how their ability benefits everyone, fostering the idea of community and team work in everything they do together. Their gift isn't something to be ashamed of, but rather something to be celebrated. They're a diverse group of people. They celebrate diversity. They learn to love themselves and love each other even when their own families might turn away in horror. They go as far as to lobby for mutant rights in the legislature, and are inevitably met with plenty of opposition attempting to demonize them.
The parallelism between the X-Men and the gay community is almost tangible. We're who we are through no choice of our own. It's cheesy, but to quote Lady Gaga, we were "born this way". Those who oppressed wizards, mutants, and gays insist it's a choice. Really, the only choices we make are either to deny or accept it, and to hide it or share it with others.
A HUGE part of this journey for self-love and acceptance is the role parents play in our lives. Their thoughts and actions help dictate our destinies in deciding how we see ourselves. I have gay friends who've been shut out from their families. For others, their families are involved in PFLAG (Parents, Friends, and Families of Lesbians and Gays). For those gays who were unfortunate enough to have a family cut them off, they may entertain the thought of suicide, because if their own parents won't love them, who will?
My coming out story is extremely positive. I'm saturated in blessings. And a lot of how I view myself and others is based on a few words my father once told me. I love this man dearly, and he loves me just as I am. He probably knew I was gay (or was turning out gay) when I told him how much I loved Celine Dion when I was 14. I remember he and I had developed a strong relationship during my teen years and early 20s. Before I came out officially 10 years ago, I remember labeling myself in high school as "bicurious". I was attracted to both boys and girls during high school, but I didn't think of myself as bisexual because my feelings seemed to constantly be evolving. I remember when I told him I was confused, he said, and I'm quoting verbatim, "Enjoy your confusion." Wow. I was floored. Most parents would probably not be as calm and collected as he was. Some parents don't want to talk about it. Others go as far as to insist it's a phase, and even recommend therapy to "cure" their child. He didn't tell me any of that. He essentially told me to let it out and have fun with it. He encouraged me to explore my feelings and to learn from them.
Four years later, in 2000, after graduating from high school, my graduation gift was to join him on a pilgrimage to Rome to see the Pope. I was so excited to do this because I had already been to Italy twice with my family, once in 1994, and again in 1995. So this chance to go again and see the POPE was a HUGE gift. I told him that one of the reasons I wanted to go was because I wanted God to tell me who I was (I was still bicurious...and hated it by now). Without missing a beat, he responded, and I quote verbatim again, "Don't ask God to tell you who you are; ask God to help you accept whoever he wants you to be." Again, I was floored. Why couldn't more coming-of-age kids have this man as their father? How was I so blessed as to have this man?
Upon returning from the pilgrimage to Rome, I had started college, still very confused, but coming closer to the realization that I was probably gay. It wasn't until the spring semester of my freshman year in college that I finally knew for sure I was. I knew, and I had accepted it. I told Dad, and he responded "Love and respect yourself and others, and be the best person you can be of whoever God made you to be." (This answer I don't remember verbatim, unfortunately.) I'm extremely lucky. I know this. I've known this for years. My father is a learned, compassionate, humane person. He's touched the lives of many.
Dad has been my teacher, friend, confidant, supporter, fan, and so many other things. He's my dad. A lot of who I am today is because of how he's loved me. He helped me get over my fear of thunder. He gave me an appreciation for toilet humor. He made me fall in love with Chopin's piano pieces. He's challenged me to make my lyrics in my songs better every time. He's calmed my fears and applauded my achievements. He scolded me when I made BIG mistakes, and praised me when I had done the right thing. He reminds me of the importance of enjoying life rather than worrying about its challenges.
I'm beyond confident that if any of the X-Men mutants had my parents in their lives, they wouldn't be afraid of who they are. My parents loving me and accepting me as I am has been fundamental in helping me to live the life I have today: I own a nice, comfortable home with a partner who also loves me as I am. I've found a career that fits me perfectly, both professionally and personally. I can speak 3 languages, and as a result have a very diverse circle of friends. The blessings of my life are founded on my parents' love and acceptance of me. It doesn't matter that I'll never have a wife, and may never give them grandchildren. I'm successful, I'm safe, I'm healthy, and happy...and I owe it all to them.
To anyone whose parents don't match the description of mine, find someone who'll love you unconditionally, especially if there are things about you that others fear or don't understand. Take a lesson from these fictional mutants, the X-Men.
Don't ask God to tell you who you are; ask God to help you accept whoever he wants you to be.
-My dad
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Monday, June 6, 2011
The importance of coming out
We live in America where enshrined in our 2 founding documents (Declaration of Independence and Constitution) are the affirmations that all men are created equal and endowed with inalienable rights, among them being life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. The 14th amendment to the US Constitution guarantees equal protection under the law. Our Pledge of Allegiance mentions that we live in a country, united, under God, with liberty and justice for all.
All that being said, why do so many people immigrate to the US? Because here, the people, NOT the government, rule. We're the Land of the Free, the Home of the Brave, as stated in our National Anthem, and yet not everyone is treated as equals. We have an upper, middle, and lower class that is distinguished primarily by income. Even individual cities differ in appearance depending on where you live in that city.
Since we live in a democratic country, we vote on what laws we want passed and enforced. Many of the past votes have been votes for civil rights. Women and African-Americans were only allowed to vote relatively recently. At one point, interracial marriages were banned. So many minorities have fought for their rights in this country. If we truly live up to the statements in our Anthem, our Constitution, and the Declaration, America would indeed be the best country in the world. But if you want to make it the best country, you need to vote for the laws to make that happen. We live in the 21st century now, and we still manage to maintain our petty differences between each other. It's these stupid differences and our prejudices against them that hold our country back from fully embracing itself as the country our founding documents declare it to be. So how do we move our country forward?
Most of the time, in the case of the gay community, we're faced with such tremendous adversity because of the irrational fears prejudiced straight people have about our community. Those citizens who've never met any gay person will likely adopt the notion that we're out to "recruit" others to be gay, that we're taking over the world, that we're corrupting the innocent, and other such nonsense. Because they have these pre-disposed fears (which the media can sometimes foster, as well as evangelical preachers who may not personally know any gay people), those ignorant to the real plight of gay people want to "protect" themselves by supporting laws that enforce discrimination against us. They also justify their hatred and prejudice with Biblical texts, anything to make them feel like they're in the right, and we're in the wrong. And it's easy to do all that, especially when the gays are far away from you. You don't know any personally, so you can judge and hate all you want guilt-free...
...unless...
...you meet one of us. All these fears, prejudices, and anti-gay sentiments that can ultimately manifest themselves in gross acts of hate could eventually dissipate once a homophobic person meets a homosexual person. Then 3 things can happen:
1. Gay people are no longer far away from you on a trashy daytime TV talk show, they're someone you know personally.
2. You get to know them and realize they're not so bad, in fact, they're same person they always have been.
3. This revelation can change your thinking because you learn they're not scary, but they're normal, everyday people who want and need all the same things you do.
Once you've met one, ask yourself, "Do I really want this person to be bashed, called names, and treated unfairly?" The answer is probably "No". And yet, we're bashed, called names, and treated unfairly every. single. day.
Coming out (revealing to yourself and/or others that you're gay) is a process that varies with each person who needs to do so. For some, it's incredibly easy. For others, it can be a lifelong challenge. For me, once I knew for sure, I came out and liberated myself from what could've been a lifetime of lies. I even remember the exact date I came out: March 12, 2001. This one action on any gay person's part can change their lives and those of others for the better. It's an extremely powerful moment. It liberates you, it unburdens you, and it follows through with what we teach our children everywhere: Be yourself.
If every gay person who was still closeted came out, more bigoted, ignorant, intolerant, and closed-minded people would be less afraid of what really is not the threat they believe it to be. They'd realize that the sky won't fall down, the world won't end, no marriages will be jeopardized (unless that marriage consists of a closeted gay person). And speaking of that, the danger of staying in the closet is that those who enter into heterosexual marriages in hopes of changing their orientation will ultimately do more harm than good to all parties involved in the long run. But they enter into these marriage masquerades because they fear what their family or friends may do if they come out. If the closeted homosexual was to come out BEFORE getting married, then the marriage wouldn't have to end in divorce, simultaneously adding to the current divorce rate. Especially in the marriage that has children between the couple, what kind of message does the parent send to the child when they reveal the truth about themselves after spending years living a lie? The child watches their parent suffer from a marriage that doesn't bring out the best in everyone, but instead weighs down heavily on the personal misery the closeted person carries.
It's simple hatred, ignorance, intolerance, bigotry, prejudice, and active anti-gay discrimination that scares gay people away from coming out and truly being and loving themselves as God made them. Instead, you get a mass-communicated message from people in power attempting to demonize us into subhuman beings...people who have no feelings, no emotions, no heart, no morals, no talents, no thoughts, no voice, NOTHING that affirms our God-given humanity! When we're depicted this way, it's no wonder that ignorant homophobes have no problem bashing or killing gay people; they've become desensitized from acknowledging our common humanity!
I remember once being in graduate school and seeing an event invitation about blue caps. The idea was that if you were or knew someone who was gay, wear a blue cap all day. The purpose of this action was to provide visual proof of how close we all are to gay people. And if we know that many, why are we denying them their rights and privileges? Why are we mistreating them?
I've been asked a few times about why gay people have gay pride parades. "What's the point?" people ask me. "Straight people don't have straight pride parades, so why do you have gay pride parades?" Good question with a simple answer. Gay people are underdogs. We face injustice, prejudice, discrimination, hate-based violence, ignorance, and so many other evils, and none of it by choice. We're beaten down, bashed, even killed for being who we are. These parades are statements on behalf of our community confirming pride in our individuality in the face of our daily adversities. I can compare it to the characters on the hit TV show GLEE. In just about every episode, the characters are attacked with slushies to the face. What do these victimized characters do to deserve this treatment? They love to sing, dance, and perform; they're being who they are. Each performance they give is like another gay pride parade. Gay pride parades exist because homophobia exists. Gay pride parades are events of solidarity among the gay community in an effort to combat and end homophobia. The more straight people who support and attend gay events, the less homophobia will have a chance of surviving.
To any fellow family members reading this, I hope you come out sooner than later. Granted, it's your choice when to do it, or to do it at all. The more of us who show themselves to the world, the sooner we can all make this place a better, happier, safer, more loving world.
As long as one person is oppressed, no one is free.
All that being said, why do so many people immigrate to the US? Because here, the people, NOT the government, rule. We're the Land of the Free, the Home of the Brave, as stated in our National Anthem, and yet not everyone is treated as equals. We have an upper, middle, and lower class that is distinguished primarily by income. Even individual cities differ in appearance depending on where you live in that city.
Since we live in a democratic country, we vote on what laws we want passed and enforced. Many of the past votes have been votes for civil rights. Women and African-Americans were only allowed to vote relatively recently. At one point, interracial marriages were banned. So many minorities have fought for their rights in this country. If we truly live up to the statements in our Anthem, our Constitution, and the Declaration, America would indeed be the best country in the world. But if you want to make it the best country, you need to vote for the laws to make that happen. We live in the 21st century now, and we still manage to maintain our petty differences between each other. It's these stupid differences and our prejudices against them that hold our country back from fully embracing itself as the country our founding documents declare it to be. So how do we move our country forward?
Most of the time, in the case of the gay community, we're faced with such tremendous adversity because of the irrational fears prejudiced straight people have about our community. Those citizens who've never met any gay person will likely adopt the notion that we're out to "recruit" others to be gay, that we're taking over the world, that we're corrupting the innocent, and other such nonsense. Because they have these pre-disposed fears (which the media can sometimes foster, as well as evangelical preachers who may not personally know any gay people), those ignorant to the real plight of gay people want to "protect" themselves by supporting laws that enforce discrimination against us. They also justify their hatred and prejudice with Biblical texts, anything to make them feel like they're in the right, and we're in the wrong. And it's easy to do all that, especially when the gays are far away from you. You don't know any personally, so you can judge and hate all you want guilt-free...
...unless...
...you meet one of us. All these fears, prejudices, and anti-gay sentiments that can ultimately manifest themselves in gross acts of hate could eventually dissipate once a homophobic person meets a homosexual person. Then 3 things can happen:
1. Gay people are no longer far away from you on a trashy daytime TV talk show, they're someone you know personally.
2. You get to know them and realize they're not so bad, in fact, they're same person they always have been.
3. This revelation can change your thinking because you learn they're not scary, but they're normal, everyday people who want and need all the same things you do.
Once you've met one, ask yourself, "Do I really want this person to be bashed, called names, and treated unfairly?" The answer is probably "No". And yet, we're bashed, called names, and treated unfairly every. single. day.
Coming out (revealing to yourself and/or others that you're gay) is a process that varies with each person who needs to do so. For some, it's incredibly easy. For others, it can be a lifelong challenge. For me, once I knew for sure, I came out and liberated myself from what could've been a lifetime of lies. I even remember the exact date I came out: March 12, 2001. This one action on any gay person's part can change their lives and those of others for the better. It's an extremely powerful moment. It liberates you, it unburdens you, and it follows through with what we teach our children everywhere: Be yourself.
If every gay person who was still closeted came out, more bigoted, ignorant, intolerant, and closed-minded people would be less afraid of what really is not the threat they believe it to be. They'd realize that the sky won't fall down, the world won't end, no marriages will be jeopardized (unless that marriage consists of a closeted gay person). And speaking of that, the danger of staying in the closet is that those who enter into heterosexual marriages in hopes of changing their orientation will ultimately do more harm than good to all parties involved in the long run. But they enter into these marriage masquerades because they fear what their family or friends may do if they come out. If the closeted homosexual was to come out BEFORE getting married, then the marriage wouldn't have to end in divorce, simultaneously adding to the current divorce rate. Especially in the marriage that has children between the couple, what kind of message does the parent send to the child when they reveal the truth about themselves after spending years living a lie? The child watches their parent suffer from a marriage that doesn't bring out the best in everyone, but instead weighs down heavily on the personal misery the closeted person carries.
It's simple hatred, ignorance, intolerance, bigotry, prejudice, and active anti-gay discrimination that scares gay people away from coming out and truly being and loving themselves as God made them. Instead, you get a mass-communicated message from people in power attempting to demonize us into subhuman beings...people who have no feelings, no emotions, no heart, no morals, no talents, no thoughts, no voice, NOTHING that affirms our God-given humanity! When we're depicted this way, it's no wonder that ignorant homophobes have no problem bashing or killing gay people; they've become desensitized from acknowledging our common humanity!
I remember once being in graduate school and seeing an event invitation about blue caps. The idea was that if you were or knew someone who was gay, wear a blue cap all day. The purpose of this action was to provide visual proof of how close we all are to gay people. And if we know that many, why are we denying them their rights and privileges? Why are we mistreating them?
I've been asked a few times about why gay people have gay pride parades. "What's the point?" people ask me. "Straight people don't have straight pride parades, so why do you have gay pride parades?" Good question with a simple answer. Gay people are underdogs. We face injustice, prejudice, discrimination, hate-based violence, ignorance, and so many other evils, and none of it by choice. We're beaten down, bashed, even killed for being who we are. These parades are statements on behalf of our community confirming pride in our individuality in the face of our daily adversities. I can compare it to the characters on the hit TV show GLEE. In just about every episode, the characters are attacked with slushies to the face. What do these victimized characters do to deserve this treatment? They love to sing, dance, and perform; they're being who they are. Each performance they give is like another gay pride parade. Gay pride parades exist because homophobia exists. Gay pride parades are events of solidarity among the gay community in an effort to combat and end homophobia. The more straight people who support and attend gay events, the less homophobia will have a chance of surviving.
To any fellow family members reading this, I hope you come out sooner than later. Granted, it's your choice when to do it, or to do it at all. The more of us who show themselves to the world, the sooner we can all make this place a better, happier, safer, more loving world.
As long as one person is oppressed, no one is free.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
A letter to former students
Dear former students:
First of all, congratulations on your accomplishment! You've graduated from elementary school, and are now entering the world of middle school. You've reached the end of the beginning; you're moving forward.
Here, many things will be different. You'll actually have a say in the classes you take. You'll be beyond all the structures and little rules elementary school imposed on you. You'll make new friends, you'll be able to explore your God-given talents, and so much more. Your whole life is ahead of you. You've only gotten through 6 years of elementary education. You'll be in middle school for 3 years (ideally), then you're off to high school for 4 years (ideally), and then you can learn what you want to learn in college. After college, the real world awaits.
At your age, entering into middle school, typically your #1 concern is "What will people think or say about me if I do or say this?" Here's a little secret, though: All students think the exact. same. thing. They're all concerned about how others will perceive them. If you can be 100% happy, secure, and comfortable with who you are, what you like to do, and everything that makes you YOU, then you have NOTHING to worry about. After all the times that your former teachers have talked to you about peer pressure, drugs, alcohol, smoking, and so many other things you'll face inevitably earlier than you should, I just wonder how you'll respond when finally faced with these challenges? What kind of person will you be in middle school?
Will you be the one judging others based on how they dress or make friends with as many different people as possible no matter how they look or where they come from?
Will you be among those starting rumors to ruin someone's image, or will you risk your image to save someone else's?
Will you abandon everything you like about yourself just to fit in with a clique, or be friends with those who love you as you are?
Will you watch and cheer as students beat each other senseless, or will you find the help to try to break up the fight?
Will you join in on the bullying of another student so you don't fall victim to the same bullying, or will you have the courage to defend the defenseless?
When all your friends are encouraging you to try a harmful substance (like marijuana, cigarettes, beer, etc.), will you give in to peer pressure to be "cool", or will you remember what we told you and "just say 'no'" and walk away?
Will you refrain from joining an extra curricular activity you like because your friends say it's uncool, or will you do it anyway because YOU like it?
Will you find a scapegoat to take the blame for your mistakes, or will you be a responsible young adult and accept the consequences of your mistakes?
Will you forget about doing well in your classes so you can maintain the image of a partygirl/boy, or are you okay and proud of being both smart and fun?
As you were told in school every morning, "the choice is always yours." As I told you when you were in my class: Love yourself and be the best you that you can be, because no one else can be a better you than you.
When it comes to choosing friends, especially new ones, remember the words of Dr. Seuss: "Do what you like and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind."
If you're ever bullied, remember the words of former First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt: "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."
And if you're ever lost inside and don't know who you are, and pray to God asking him to tell you, then think of these words: "Don't ask God to tell you who you are; ask God to help you accept whoever he wants you to be."
I wish you only the best on your journey. As many cliché quotes that I can give you as advice for your long road ahead, the most important one to remember is what Jesus himself said: "Do unto others as you'd have them do unto you." It's the Golden Rule. If you treat people the way you want to be treated, and they treat you worse, then that's the first indication that you don't need to invest any more time in building a friendship with them.
Be brave, be good, and most of all, be yourself.
I'll miss you.
First of all, congratulations on your accomplishment! You've graduated from elementary school, and are now entering the world of middle school. You've reached the end of the beginning; you're moving forward.
Here, many things will be different. You'll actually have a say in the classes you take. You'll be beyond all the structures and little rules elementary school imposed on you. You'll make new friends, you'll be able to explore your God-given talents, and so much more. Your whole life is ahead of you. You've only gotten through 6 years of elementary education. You'll be in middle school for 3 years (ideally), then you're off to high school for 4 years (ideally), and then you can learn what you want to learn in college. After college, the real world awaits.
At your age, entering into middle school, typically your #1 concern is "What will people think or say about me if I do or say this?" Here's a little secret, though: All students think the exact. same. thing. They're all concerned about how others will perceive them. If you can be 100% happy, secure, and comfortable with who you are, what you like to do, and everything that makes you YOU, then you have NOTHING to worry about. After all the times that your former teachers have talked to you about peer pressure, drugs, alcohol, smoking, and so many other things you'll face inevitably earlier than you should, I just wonder how you'll respond when finally faced with these challenges? What kind of person will you be in middle school?
Will you be the one judging others based on how they dress or make friends with as many different people as possible no matter how they look or where they come from?
Will you be among those starting rumors to ruin someone's image, or will you risk your image to save someone else's?
Will you abandon everything you like about yourself just to fit in with a clique, or be friends with those who love you as you are?
Will you watch and cheer as students beat each other senseless, or will you find the help to try to break up the fight?
Will you join in on the bullying of another student so you don't fall victim to the same bullying, or will you have the courage to defend the defenseless?
When all your friends are encouraging you to try a harmful substance (like marijuana, cigarettes, beer, etc.), will you give in to peer pressure to be "cool", or will you remember what we told you and "just say 'no'" and walk away?
Will you refrain from joining an extra curricular activity you like because your friends say it's uncool, or will you do it anyway because YOU like it?
Will you find a scapegoat to take the blame for your mistakes, or will you be a responsible young adult and accept the consequences of your mistakes?
Will you forget about doing well in your classes so you can maintain the image of a partygirl/boy, or are you okay and proud of being both smart and fun?
As you were told in school every morning, "the choice is always yours." As I told you when you were in my class: Love yourself and be the best you that you can be, because no one else can be a better you than you.
When it comes to choosing friends, especially new ones, remember the words of Dr. Seuss: "Do what you like and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind."
If you're ever bullied, remember the words of former First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt: "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."
And if you're ever lost inside and don't know who you are, and pray to God asking him to tell you, then think of these words: "Don't ask God to tell you who you are; ask God to help you accept whoever he wants you to be."
I wish you only the best on your journey. As many cliché quotes that I can give you as advice for your long road ahead, the most important one to remember is what Jesus himself said: "Do unto others as you'd have them do unto you." It's the Golden Rule. If you treat people the way you want to be treated, and they treat you worse, then that's the first indication that you don't need to invest any more time in building a friendship with them.
Be brave, be good, and most of all, be yourself.
I'll miss you.
Friday, May 13, 2011
They ran to me
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.
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.
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."
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Lazy longhorn envy
Frank is a longhorn. Several of my cousins are longhorns. My brother is a longhorn. My favorite college professor is a longhorn. I live in Austin.
I hear about high school kids getting into UT for college, and every time I see a friend's UT diploma displayed, a part of me becomes very jealous. I associate UT as Texas' version of Harvard. I've never been a UT student, but Frank and I are season ticket holders for many UT performing arts events.
I've earned my Bachelor's degree, and my Master's. The only degree I have yet to earn is my Doctorate, a degree I aspire to earn. But I don't know if I ever will. If I ever go for a Doctorate, it'll more than likely be in music education, or as the UT Butler School of Music calls it, a Ph.D. in Music and Human Learning. I love how that sounds.
In my head, I have this association with UT that if I don't ever get admitted to UT, I'll never reach my highest educational potential. For me, getting a Ph.D. from UT is essentially being a genius. But UT is very competitive. Extremely competitive. They have limited spots for their Ph.D. programs, and applicants from all over the world apply to get in. What kind of chance do I have?
Now, is it possible for me to get admitted? Yes, of course it is. Is it probable, probably not. It can happen, but it probably won't. I've done my research of what's required to get admitted, and admission requires several things I'm not prepared or motivated enough to do:
-Take the GRE test (I loathe that exam; well, I'm bad at standardized tests in general).
-Take music diagnostic exams (All together, they're about 3 hours long). To take these exams, I'd have to majorly brush up on my familiarity with music history, scores identification skills, and so many other things, because Ph.D. candidates should be able to teach just about any course a university has them teach. I know I'm not at that level of qualification.
-Have at least 3 years of teaching experience.
I'll be 100% honest: I'm obsessed with the idea of being a longhorn more than I care to roll up my sleeves to do the work necessary to become one. I just want to apply, get in, take my classes, and write my dissertation. I want a prestigious UT diploma that declares me to be a Doctor of Philosophy in Music and Human Learning. But I can't do that. If I want to get in, I need to study for and take the GRE, review several music history books, familiarize myself with as many scores as I can from every major era of music history, and be able to take 4-part melodic dictation. And the only thing stopping me from doing all this is my own laziness.
Because of this inner demon, I don't know if I'll ever be motivated enough to do all the work required to get the highest degree possible from one of the best universities in the country.
Playing devil's advocate, let's say I do get in. I'm already paying off student loans I took out for my Master's degree. I still have a good 17 years before those are paid off. If I pursue the Ph.D., I'll have to defer loan payments, and add to the debt as well. That's the only way I could afford to go.
Also, one can only apply to UT Doctoral programs in the fall semester. And that deadline is for admission starting the FOLLOWING fall. So if I get everything done this year to get in, I wouldn't start until fall 2013. Yep. That's how it works.
Frank has suggested that I simpy apply to get in and take classes refresher courses, but not apply to the School of Music. Getting admitted to the university is one thing; getting admitted into a specialized program is entirely another.
UT has been on my mind a lot lately since the end of this school year quickly approaches. I don't know how many high school students are getting admitted to UT. But I know plenty will be there. And when I go to campus for any event, I see longhorns with backpacks on, and I desperately want to be one of them.
*sigh* A dream that is realistically accessible, yet internally and mentally out of reach. We are our own worst enemies when it comes to achieving our goals and dreams.
Either way, GO LONGHORNS!
I hear about high school kids getting into UT for college, and every time I see a friend's UT diploma displayed, a part of me becomes very jealous. I associate UT as Texas' version of Harvard. I've never been a UT student, but Frank and I are season ticket holders for many UT performing arts events.
I've earned my Bachelor's degree, and my Master's. The only degree I have yet to earn is my Doctorate, a degree I aspire to earn. But I don't know if I ever will. If I ever go for a Doctorate, it'll more than likely be in music education, or as the UT Butler School of Music calls it, a Ph.D. in Music and Human Learning. I love how that sounds.
In my head, I have this association with UT that if I don't ever get admitted to UT, I'll never reach my highest educational potential. For me, getting a Ph.D. from UT is essentially being a genius. But UT is very competitive. Extremely competitive. They have limited spots for their Ph.D. programs, and applicants from all over the world apply to get in. What kind of chance do I have?
Now, is it possible for me to get admitted? Yes, of course it is. Is it probable, probably not. It can happen, but it probably won't. I've done my research of what's required to get admitted, and admission requires several things I'm not prepared or motivated enough to do:
-Take the GRE test (I loathe that exam; well, I'm bad at standardized tests in general).
-Take music diagnostic exams (All together, they're about 3 hours long). To take these exams, I'd have to majorly brush up on my familiarity with music history, scores identification skills, and so many other things, because Ph.D. candidates should be able to teach just about any course a university has them teach. I know I'm not at that level of qualification.
-Have at least 3 years of teaching experience.
I'll be 100% honest: I'm obsessed with the idea of being a longhorn more than I care to roll up my sleeves to do the work necessary to become one. I just want to apply, get in, take my classes, and write my dissertation. I want a prestigious UT diploma that declares me to be a Doctor of Philosophy in Music and Human Learning. But I can't do that. If I want to get in, I need to study for and take the GRE, review several music history books, familiarize myself with as many scores as I can from every major era of music history, and be able to take 4-part melodic dictation. And the only thing stopping me from doing all this is my own laziness.
Because of this inner demon, I don't know if I'll ever be motivated enough to do all the work required to get the highest degree possible from one of the best universities in the country.
Playing devil's advocate, let's say I do get in. I'm already paying off student loans I took out for my Master's degree. I still have a good 17 years before those are paid off. If I pursue the Ph.D., I'll have to defer loan payments, and add to the debt as well. That's the only way I could afford to go.
Also, one can only apply to UT Doctoral programs in the fall semester. And that deadline is for admission starting the FOLLOWING fall. So if I get everything done this year to get in, I wouldn't start until fall 2013. Yep. That's how it works.
Frank has suggested that I simpy apply to get in and take classes refresher courses, but not apply to the School of Music. Getting admitted to the university is one thing; getting admitted into a specialized program is entirely another.
UT has been on my mind a lot lately since the end of this school year quickly approaches. I don't know how many high school students are getting admitted to UT. But I know plenty will be there. And when I go to campus for any event, I see longhorns with backpacks on, and I desperately want to be one of them.
*sigh* A dream that is realistically accessible, yet internally and mentally out of reach. We are our own worst enemies when it comes to achieving our goals and dreams.
Either way, GO LONGHORNS!
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Joyous relief
Before I begin, "Kodály" is pronounced "KOH-die".
That being said...
This past Wednesday, April 13, 2011, I received an e-mail in the morning from my Kodály professor. He told me he had my teaching videos, but asked me where the lesson plans and self-evaluations were. When I calmly told him they were all sent together, he later e-mailed me with the following message: "I found them on my desk. You've passed." I looked at those 2 words: "You've passed." You've passed. My breathing quickened as if I was having an anxiety attack. I've passed? I've passed?! I ran to the bedroom where Frank lay sleeping (it was about 9:30 pm by now). My hyperventilating woke him up. "Are you okay?!" he asked. Unable to respond, I kept breathing heavily while turning on the light, displaying a smile, and giving 2 thumbs up to at least let him know my heavy breathing was a good thing. Between breaths, I managed to say, "I just got an e-mail from [my professor]. My teaching videos passed. I'm DONE!" After a little more heavy breathing, I collapsed onto the bedroom floor and began to sob tears of joyous relief.
The majority of people I know don't know what this is all about. "What's 'Ko-DALL-ee'?" they ask me. Kodály is the last name of Zoltán Kodály who was a Hungarian composer and music educator. He simply believed that all people have a right to a quality musical education, especially kids. His research and educational philosophy spawned a movement in elementary music education that has spread worldwide. His work evolved into a pedagogical style and methodology that is known as both the Kodály Method and the Kodály Concept. Because of how it works, it's an international success in elementary music. My school district requires that all its elementary music teachers (myself included) must become certified in this style of pedagogy. We must become "Kodály Music Specialists". How long does it take to complete the certification? Three years for 3 levels. What's a bigger pill to swallow is that we're given 5 years to complete the certification. If we don't finish it in time, we're put on a growth plan, which could lead to potential termination, though there has yet to be any such precedent. I finished with 1 year left in my 5-year time frame. In my district, there are 13 of us, and 6 of us are finished, myself now included. Four more are almost finished, and 3 more have 1-3 years to go.
In order to earn Kodály certification (the way I did), one must do the following:
I started Level 1 in July 2008. That following school year, I recorded a 4th grade teaching video and submitted it during Level 2 in July 2009. It failed. That following school year, I recorded 2 videos: a 2nd grade video, and a 3rd grade video. I submitted them during Level 3. They both failed. I had completed everything...except the videos.
I felt defeated. I seriously considered a career change from teaching music to selling Mary Kay cosmetics full time. In reality, I knew I couldn't do that. My teaching was paying all my bills. I couldn't quit. I decided I wanted to record both of my new videos in Fall 2010 to get them over and done with by the holidays. My professor discouraged me from doing so because he felt I didn't have enough time from the start of the school year to practice and professionally develop. He told me he wanted to see evidence of months of on-going commitment and professional development in the video. February came and I attended the annual Texas Music Educators Association (TMEA) Convention in San Antonio, TX. There, 2 alumni from the same program I attended were giving a clinic on musical transitions (highly useful tools in Kodály pedagogy). Desperate for inspiration and motivation to finish something my career and life depended on, I attended their clinic. That 60-minute presentation turned on the biggest light bulb in my head! Watching them, I finally understood what I needed to do, and more importantly, I knew how to do it! I walked out of it completely re-motivated to finish my work. Later that month, I recorded 8 videos (each of 4 different 2nd and 3rd grade classes), and showed them to a colleague who finished the same year I started. She gave me some priceless feedback. I told myself, "I won't submit anything else unless I have reassurance that it'll pass." By the time I showed her the 7th and 8th videos, she said they were passable.
(Sidenote: When you submit teaching videos, 3 documents must accompany it: the detailed lesson plan [with every little thing you're doing in the video in writing], background information [which Kodály program you're in, your level, your school, district, etc.], and a self-evaluation.)
With my colleague's approval, I submitted my work in the mail to my professor who works at a university in Pennsylvania. Not wanting to annoy him (especially since he held my fate in his hands), I requested that my colleague contact him regularly to check on the status of my videos. I had waited on pins and needles for over a month...fearing I wouldn't hear from him until May, and then wouldn't be able to submit another video until the following year.
Now, go back and re-read the first paragraph again.
I am now a Kodály Music Specialist, and my career is safe.
Joyous relief.
Joyous. relief.
That being said...
This past Wednesday, April 13, 2011, I received an e-mail in the morning from my Kodály professor. He told me he had my teaching videos, but asked me where the lesson plans and self-evaluations were. When I calmly told him they were all sent together, he later e-mailed me with the following message: "I found them on my desk. You've passed." I looked at those 2 words: "You've passed." You've passed. My breathing quickened as if I was having an anxiety attack. I've passed? I've passed?! I ran to the bedroom where Frank lay sleeping (it was about 9:30 pm by now). My hyperventilating woke him up. "Are you okay?!" he asked. Unable to respond, I kept breathing heavily while turning on the light, displaying a smile, and giving 2 thumbs up to at least let him know my heavy breathing was a good thing. Between breaths, I managed to say, "I just got an e-mail from [my professor]. My teaching videos passed. I'm DONE!" After a little more heavy breathing, I collapsed onto the bedroom floor and began to sob tears of joyous relief.
The majority of people I know don't know what this is all about. "What's 'Ko-DALL-ee'?" they ask me. Kodály is the last name of Zoltán Kodály who was a Hungarian composer and music educator. He simply believed that all people have a right to a quality musical education, especially kids. His research and educational philosophy spawned a movement in elementary music education that has spread worldwide. His work evolved into a pedagogical style and methodology that is known as both the Kodály Method and the Kodály Concept. Because of how it works, it's an international success in elementary music. My school district requires that all its elementary music teachers (myself included) must become certified in this style of pedagogy. We must become "Kodály Music Specialists". How long does it take to complete the certification? Three years for 3 levels. What's a bigger pill to swallow is that we're given 5 years to complete the certification. If we don't finish it in time, we're put on a growth plan, which could lead to potential termination, though there has yet to be any such precedent. I finished with 1 year left in my 5-year time frame. In my district, there are 13 of us, and 6 of us are finished, myself now included. Four more are almost finished, and 3 more have 1-3 years to go.
In order to earn Kodály certification (the way I did), one must do the following:
- Take over 300 hours worth of course work (ideally done in 3 weeks in 3 consecutive summers)
- Analyze over 200 folk songs in the required format, including finding their ethnic origins, and locating legitimate sources to trace their heritage)
- Learn to execute a new music teaching theory model in which you learn to teach music musically; musical activities with musical transitions from one activity to the next
- Compile a digital retrieval system loaded with all the folk songs you've analyzed, so as you're writing a lesson plan, you can use the system to extract the songs you need to support whichever musical element you're teaching
- Record and submit 2 teaching videos; the 1st one (either 1st or 2nd grade) must show an emerging understanding of the Kodály concept, and the 2nd (3rd, 4th, or 5th grade) must show proficiency in the concept. These videos either pass or fail.
I started Level 1 in July 2008. That following school year, I recorded a 4th grade teaching video and submitted it during Level 2 in July 2009. It failed. That following school year, I recorded 2 videos: a 2nd grade video, and a 3rd grade video. I submitted them during Level 3. They both failed. I had completed everything...except the videos.
I felt defeated. I seriously considered a career change from teaching music to selling Mary Kay cosmetics full time. In reality, I knew I couldn't do that. My teaching was paying all my bills. I couldn't quit. I decided I wanted to record both of my new videos in Fall 2010 to get them over and done with by the holidays. My professor discouraged me from doing so because he felt I didn't have enough time from the start of the school year to practice and professionally develop. He told me he wanted to see evidence of months of on-going commitment and professional development in the video. February came and I attended the annual Texas Music Educators Association (TMEA) Convention in San Antonio, TX. There, 2 alumni from the same program I attended were giving a clinic on musical transitions (highly useful tools in Kodály pedagogy). Desperate for inspiration and motivation to finish something my career and life depended on, I attended their clinic. That 60-minute presentation turned on the biggest light bulb in my head! Watching them, I finally understood what I needed to do, and more importantly, I knew how to do it! I walked out of it completely re-motivated to finish my work. Later that month, I recorded 8 videos (each of 4 different 2nd and 3rd grade classes), and showed them to a colleague who finished the same year I started. She gave me some priceless feedback. I told myself, "I won't submit anything else unless I have reassurance that it'll pass." By the time I showed her the 7th and 8th videos, she said they were passable.
(Sidenote: When you submit teaching videos, 3 documents must accompany it: the detailed lesson plan [with every little thing you're doing in the video in writing], background information [which Kodály program you're in, your level, your school, district, etc.], and a self-evaluation.)
With my colleague's approval, I submitted my work in the mail to my professor who works at a university in Pennsylvania. Not wanting to annoy him (especially since he held my fate in his hands), I requested that my colleague contact him regularly to check on the status of my videos. I had waited on pins and needles for over a month...fearing I wouldn't hear from him until May, and then wouldn't be able to submit another video until the following year.
Now, go back and re-read the first paragraph again.
I am now a Kodály Music Specialist, and my career is safe.
Joyous relief.
Joyous. relief.
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