How Do We Begin?

It’s the first day of school at The San Francisco School. And I’m not there. For the fourth year in a row.  I’m sitting at the breakfast table looking out at Lake Michigan, the day spread out before me to do as I like. Truth be told, I’m not wishing I could trade this for a staff meeting. (The kids don’t come until next week, this the usual staff preparation.)

And yet when the time came each of my 45 years, it mostly was something to look forward to. Reuniting with fellow staff members, many of whom I felt as friends, catching up on our summer adventures. Returning to that sacred space of the music room and starting to organize, clean, re-organize. Leading or co-leading some musical staff gathering to re-connect and learn the song for the Opening Ceremony’s tunnel of singing teachers. 

 

Yes, I didn’t always love having to do the CPR training again and when we took out the calendars to negotiate the year’s schedule, I often felt exhausted as if I had already lived out the year ahead. And as the ever-expanding admin took over the meeting agendas and there was this creeping fear of the next announced change without staff consultation, I could feel my spirit slump. 

 

But then the kids would come and we remembered why we actually were there. Off we went into our elaborate and spirit-rousing opening ceremony, a few classes, a re-gathering for tea at the end of the day with teachers sharing their funny stories and my ritual toast, “One down, 174 to go!” With tongue very much in cheek, as I was in no hurry to “get through” the year, each day with the kids (mostly) a delight. 

In my “retired” life, the children still await me. Two school residency jobs in Taipei and Toronto for two and three weeks respectively, another one for college students in Tennessee. (Taipei, Toronto, Tennessee— this is my “T’ year. Maybe I should contact a school in Timbuktoo?) I’ll do some guest singing in a few SF Schools and perhaps some more mentoring with an Orff teacher I trained. I’m by no means done teaching kids and loving getting to do it on my terms, no staff meetings or report cards attached.

 

But still I care how the year begins for my daughter and two music colleagues at The San Francisco School, my mentees at Children’s Day School, the various teachers I’ve trained this summer in all of those schools. May the Powerpoints be few, the bureaucracies shut down, the 55 page staff handbooks lie unopened. May teachers gather in games, songs, dances, be left alone in their rooms to sort, clean and prepare, the meetings filled with exciting new ideas for collaborative projects. May discussions include the children and what they’ve always deeply needed—worthy work, the feeling of welcome, the sense of being seen, known and valued, the permission to play their way into understanding, the deep sense of connection— all of which they need more than ever in a world in short supply of all of the above. May teachers reaffirm their vows to nurture, nourish, protect and tell the children the truth, Republicans be damned, about how the world has been broken over and over again when we refuse to see what has happened and why and how every act of kindness, love, understanding can help heal it. Amidst all the details of how to get a school year up and running again, may they all keep their eyes on the prize.

 

Me, I’ll be swimming today, but my heart is still with you all. Happy New Year!