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Monday, January 07, 2008So PrivilegedThe other day, I unearthed a treasure. (What? I've got a blog sitting here on my desktop? Oh, that's right -- I did used to write fairly regularly. And here it's been sitting, waiting for me to rediscover it. But that's not the treasure I'm talking about. "Treasure" being loosely translated in this case.) Anyway, the other day, I unearthed a treasure. It's a royal blue scrapbook, lovingly compiled by four fourth-grade teachers in 1992 at the end of the school year. On its pages are scrawled, in colored pencil, the various heartfelt sentiments of my music students -- my beloved fourth graders. Some included photographs ("This is me!"), some included best wishes for my new baby, one included her home address just in case I might want to write to her. And some simply blew me away. "Thank you for giving me a part in the play. I hope your baby will grow up to be like you!" Poor girl, she didn't realize what she was wishing upon the unsuspecting baby (who is now almost sixteen). Yet what a blessing to bestow -- to wish for a human being to be similar to your music teacher. "After all the years I've been at Scales, you, I think, are the best music teacher I've had." High praise, indeed. Though I'm not sure how many music teachers I was better than. Before I arrived, there wasn't a music program at all. Still, for the benefit of the doubt, let's say there was at least one other music teacher in this boy's life. That makes me the better one. One point for Mrs. Boehme. "I wish that you could stay here. I hope that you have a nice time where you are going." Actually, I went home and stayed there. And I've had a wonderful time ever since. "You have taught us many things and brought the best out of us." Wow. To bring the best out in any child is a high calling. Did I really do that? I hope so. "Thank you for being my music teacher. I liked it most of the time but I had some bad days." Raw honesty. I liked it most of the time but I had some bad days, too. Especially when my ankles were swollen. "You are a really good pianist. You are the best I have ever heard." Methinks she hadn't heard many pianists. "Ever since I've had you as a teacher I've been practicing the guitar more often." Okay, this one's beyond description. He actually practiced more because of my influence? And when, exactly, did I happen to lose this magical touch? I've never seen it manifest itself in my offspring. "Thank you for making my voice sing better than my old voice. I am going to be a great singer now. I know that you will be a terrific mother!" I wish I could hear him sing today. And I'm not sure "terrific" is appropriate, but I know my kids adore me -- possibly even more than my fourth graders did. "I'm sure the baby will be a great singer just like you." Jonathan refuses to sing. He just plays the drums and farts a lot. I guess farting is kind of like an inverse singing, though. Or not. "Did you know Jill means 'see Julia'?" Someone needed to show her how to use a reference book. "The play was great! Thanks for doing it for us! It was a Hollywood hit!" I must've missed that. "You taught me how to enjoy music." Then, for at least one child, I have done my job well. "You will probably get another job or you may retire, I don't know." This one grew up to be a career counselor. "I can't believe you wrote those wonderful songs. They were so good I almost cried." May I use you as a reference? Songwriting isn't the same as novel writing, but still... "I used to hate music but now I love it." This one wins, hands down. She used to hate music, but now she loves it. Think of it! Nine months with Mrs. Boehme and she's changed her mind about music. Wish I could reproduce that for my own children. Then I could write things like, "He used to hate Algebra but now he loves it." "She used to hate cleaning her bedroom but now she loves it." "They used to hate massaging my feet for two hours every night, but now they love it." "I have always wanted to be an actor. Thank you for giving me the chance to be one." Breathless. It really leaves me breathless. "You are a really great music teacher! It is like you understand us kids more than anybody else." Really? That's probably because I never grew up. "I hope you remember the Beathoven [sic] fan club." I don't, but if you learned to love Beethoven (or Beathoven, as the case may be), then it was obviously a hit. "I think it is neat how you can put on a rehearsal with over two hundred kids." It's a good thing I never counted them. "When I think of you, I think of how encouraging you are to me. When I was playing the piano, you encouraged me to keep going hard at it. And when I had to quit because of my baby brother, you encouraged me to start playing again." I actually remember this boy. I was dumbfounded when he told me his mother wouldn't let him practice the piano because his baby brother had to take a nap. The boy was talented. Surely she could have worked out a practice schedule for him instead of squelching his creativity. Ah, well. Who am I to judge? "You've showed me that it's OK to mess up." Okay. That's not possible. I struggle with "messing up" on a daily basis. I give myself little to no grace. I've fought the spirit of perfectionism for as long as I can remember. Certainly I've made progress, but not to the point where this comment didn't slap me upside the head with its resounding howcanthisbe-ness. Seriously -- I showed a child that it's okay to mess up? That it's really okay? I am humbled beyond measure. And absolutely blown away. Because it really is okay to mess up. My head knows that, even if my heart doesn't quite believe it. And I guess I needed a fresh reminder, from the pen of a ten-year-old child. It's okay to mess up. It's okay to mess up! A good thought for the beginning of a new year. Grace in all things, wiggle room and margin of error and all that. I am wonderfully made but I am imperfect. And in my imperfection I am still loved. I guess I needed a dusty scrapbook to remind me of that this week. Perhaps you needed the reminder, too. Labels: life |
About Me
I am: Mother to five stunningly individualistic children... Writer of young adult fantasy... Passionate advocate for Women At Home... Madly in love with my husband... In need of Organic Gourmet Chocolate on a regular basis. I've got a Paypal account if you'd like to contribute to the cause....
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4of my readers are feeling chatty:
ROFL at "Jill means 'see Julia'"
what a fun treasure to uncover!
All through reading this entry I was thinking "Jilly!!!!!! Look back at all these self depreciating comments! (they're funny as heck, but...) You always told us (Mommies!) not to belittle ourselves our our accomplishments."
Oh my dear friend, I am sure every one of those heartfelt compliments was true (after all, how often do 4th graders try to be nice?)!
I think you have trouble remembering that it's okay to mess up because you have so little practice doing it. :-)
Its okay to mess up is my new mantra
Thank you Jill. I needed a reminder myself. :)
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