Mr. Mac: the Anacrusis

It has been over a year since I graduated from Mansfield, and a year since I was hired as a first year teacher on the tenure track. For confidentiality's sake I will not name the school (this is the era of internet scandal and liability) but will refer to it as Oldforest. It was an eventful year, full of surprise, music, frustration, joy, and wonder. I am going to stay away from education speak and hit some of what I believe are some of the best moments of my first year of teaching.

[Bonus points for defining anacrusis and explaining its significance in the title of this blog.]

Fighting Unemployment

It would be completely remiss of me to ignore the dreaded job search, so I will start with it.  I applied at six schools- two in Pennsylvania and four in New York. Of those,  I had three rejections, one with no response. I had first round interviews at two upstate NY schools, each within a half hour of my home.  I loved one of these schools much more than the other; the interview was enjoyable, with carefully thought-out questions intermixed with the occasional laugh. I was granted final round interviews at both districts, within a week of each other. Fortunately for me, my top pick  was scheduled first.  I prepared an audition and had a lovely conversation with the Superintendent of Schools, a former music educator.  This was the job I wanted. I got a phone call two hours later.
"Hello, this is [the principal of the school]."
I swallowed, hard, and answered in my cheeriest voice.
"Hello!"
"Well," said the principal, "how do you think your interview went this morning?"
Dear God, open ended questions like this just terrify me.
"I think it went well. I enjoyed it."
"There you go. I think you're right."
She then proceeded to offer me the 6-12 Vocal Music Instructor position- the job I had been dreaming about since I was in eighth grade.

Professional Stunt Driver. Do not try at home.

Look Mom, no wheels (on the road)!

My first adventure barely involves Oldforest. I was driving home from work my second week of school. Out, into the road leaped a deer. I avoided the deer and in the process skidded and rolled my car over... one and a half times with enough force to tear my engine block off of its mounts. 

Moral of the story: drive a Subaru and wear your seat belt. I walked away and was in school the next day (with a plate of cookies-  many thanks to the MS counselor and HS art teacher). 74 people (yes I counted) told me I should have "just hit the deer." I preferred the cookies.

No-Shave January-March

I finally broke down and stopped shaving for three months. Oldforest put on a production of Oklahoma! I was vocal music director and rehearsal accompanist. As part of the fun and spirit of the production I started growing a beard, with the promise that I wouldn't shave until the show was over. Teachers take note:  growing a beard provides endless wonder and amusement to students. In the days leading up to the show, a countdown to "beard-ageddon" appeared on my board. I shaved it off as part of the cast party festivities (along with other men in the cast).  Next year we're doing Shrek... maybe I'll grow ogre ears and shave them off.

The Week of Doom

The first week of November had the following events.

Monday- My classroom flooded.
Tuesday- Throw up in my classroom; go home early (the only time I missed all year).
Wednesday- First Pre-observation meeting.
Thursday- Ear infection (ringing/deafness in the left ear).
Friday - First Observation.

New Teacher Syndrome

Call the CDC, there is a disease circulating. New Teacher Syndrome, or NTS, is a highly contagious, dangerous, and uncomfortable ailment that seems to strike when a teacher moves to a new area. This tends to result in colds, the flu, and other random "bugs" that come from the respiratory systems of students. Voice teachers who suffer from NTS will very quickly learn how to sing through a cold safely and to expedite the healing process through water, vitamin C, and sleep... minus the sleep. But really, build up that immune system new teachers!

Statistics

To those of you who have read this far:  congratulations! To those of you who are involved in the teaching world:  fear not, for this has nothing to do with "data-driven [insert academic words]."  I have kept track of random numbers this year--

Number of:

It's raining. Inside.

Colds:  11

Concerts:  3

Oklahoma! performances:  4

Keys on a piano:  88

Musicals performed in:  1

Miles put on my new car: 2,200

Car accidents: 1

Deer hit: 0. (please see above)

Festivals:  3

Birds in a shoe box:  1
Choral pieces learned: 20
Ties I own:  35
Last minute accompaniments for talent shows: 10
Exploded boilers above my room:  1.
Letters in the alphabet:  26
Letters in the musical alphabet: 7, unless you are German.


Although it was tough, my first year at Oldforest was extremely fulfilling. I will say that I could not have made it without my colleagues at school and my family at home. They were a source of knowledge, advice, enthusiasm, and support. Naturally, my wonderful professors in college and student teaching co-ops were instrumental in achieving this goal (I sound like I'm receiving an Oscar...).  Most of all I must mention Mr. Kinney, my music teacher, mentor, and, now, colleague. He is the reason I found my passion in life. He inspired me to be a music educator. His words to me in ninth grade say it all:

[Music Education] is a real challenge, but also rewarding in many ways. It is both mentally and physically taxing because you pour your heart into your work everyday.  You become extremely comfortable with who you are because you share your inner soul with fellow musicians every day as you teach them to express through music.

Farm Fireworks: Grinder Sparks.

It's hay season here on Wild Rose Farm. Naturally this means the sickle bar mower, which cuts the hay, is broken. We attempted to weld it, but to no end; we had to replace the entire bar. Of course, the rock guards are attached to the destroyed bar by way of heavy steel rivets, installed by machinery when the mower was manufactured. In order to assemble the sickle bar mower with its new parts required the following:

1. Remove the rock guards from the broken bar.
2. Attach aforementioned rock guards to the new bar.

Easy, right?

Well, the process is simple, but the effort is extreme.

Removing the rock guards is a two-step process: Grind the rivet down then pound it out of its sleeve.

The tools for this:

A grinder.

Grinder

Hammer and set to create a dimple in the rivet.

Standard hammer and nail set.

And a pneumatic hammer.

Connected to the air compressor.

And, of course, safety gear!

Eyes and ears!

This went surprisingly well- 50 rivets in about 3 hours.

Here are the fireworks:

It's prudent of me to mention that Scamp, my border collie, is quite enthralled with the flying shreds of metal produced by the grinding; she is afraid of the vacuum cleaner.

Once the rock guards were out, I had to rivet them onto the new bar. Again, simple. Just a ball-pine hammer and rivets. 

Pound the rivets into the sleeves... by hand... all 50 of them.

Done!

A successful Independence Day. Cutting hay tomorrow!

Happy Fourth of July!

I Can See It! Why a Classically Trained Musician Loves to Farm

I spent my Memorial Day weekend hard at work on the farm here in Owego. As I mowed, raked, shoveled dirt (and other...un-mentionable things), planted, mulched, repaired machinery, and generally battered my body, I began thinking:  why do I love physical labor so much?

Battered Hand

Those who know me well know that there is little that I love more than hard work; whether it be building and striking sets, tearing down a friend's back porch, or farm-work. In fact, by the end of the school year I crave physical labor. Why?

Visible Progress.

I am deeply involved in a career that offers little immediate satisfaction:  you can always practice more and you can always (and should) change and improve your teaching. It is the reality of an academic world, and I would have it no other way; I would be completely bored if it was. However, in the work I do over the summer, there is an end. When I fix the tractor it's fixed (until it breaks again)! Done. 

My lawn:  done.

The finality of physical work is a restful contrast from the always improving world of music and education. It's refreshing and leaves me ready to take on the world of music and education and keep practicing and improving. My grandmother says it best: "A change is as good as a rest."

Farming is a change from constant brainwork, a change from sitting all day (desk, piano bench), a change from being inside, and a change from limitless development.

So, yes I own a piano and a chainsaw. And I love to sing opera and bale hay. (Sometimes at the same time).

It's important to find something that recharges you. You can cut down a tree with a dull saw and burn yourself out in the process, or you can stop, "sharpen the saw" and cut down the tree swiftly and efficiently.

Do a craft, take a facebook break, or mow the lawn and enjoy the recharging benefits of doing something with visible progress. Happy saw-sharpening!

Scamp likes farm-work too.

The End is the Beginning

Two years have gone by since my last post. Why? Because I have been busy finishing my Bachelor's Degree.

Finishing a paper at opera rehearsal:  undergrad in a nutshell.

But now that's done, and, for the first time in my life, I'm not returning to school as a student and I won't be enrolled at a academic institution.

What am I doing to keep busy? Lots. I've picked up a job as an Organist and Choir Director, I'm substitute teaching (almost full time!), and I'm working on my family's organic farm. And I'm job searching for a teaching job.

So, in order to keep the world informed about my musings, music, and eclectic life (you're looking at a classically trained musician who received a chainsaw for graduation...) I'm re-igniting my blog.

There's a little peer pressure here too. My friends started blogs, so I'm re-starting mine. And besides, what self-respecting musician doesn't want to talk about himself/herself?!

To the summer of 2012:  go team! (Huzzah!)

Sleep is boredom.

It's 11:09. I have been awake for about 17 hours. And I'm in for another three or four. Insomnia; something everyone deals with. Trouble falling asleep, staying asleep, or waking too early are the classic types. Insomnia is usually stress related (biological issues excluded), and in today's hectic society it's a wonder anyone ever sleeps. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for the Type-A driven, career based, run until you drop lifestyle of our world. I think waiting for things, like for food grow is great. But I have a hard time with boredom; there is far too much work to be done in this world, and too many things to see, taste, hear, experience to ever claim boredom.

If I had to create a bucket list now it would be a million items. Take into account my youth and this makes sense; I want to do everything, and I feel like I could take on the world.

So, my personal insomnia? Well it's double causation. First, stress. I stress about just about everything. Especially when I'm at school; music is a high pressure degree program. The thoughts of scheduling, assignments, rehearsals to be prepared for, music to learn, proficiencies, and of course interpersonal relations and intra-personal doubts. These add up...they keep the mind highly active. Sleep won't come to a highly active mind. My dad and I can attest to this. We have a strange combination of all three types of insomnia. We never sleep, or if we do it's a few (as in two or three) hours. We deal our own ways: my dad reads, I rest.

As I rest I think about the millions of things I want to do during and with my life. It keeps me occupied. Then before I know it, it's time to get up and hit the day running.I guess maybe I don't have time for boredom, even when I sleep.