Learning to Breathe Again

I was in Jeanette’s kindergarten class singing Christmas songs today. There is no better way to understand the influence of music than to watch kindergarteners sing. Let’s just say it engages them. I also noticed how much they watch their teacher. They try very hard to meet her expectations, especially in the way they treat others. But they also watch her interact with her colleagues and today, even me. It is so easy to forget as a teacher – and as a parent - they are always watching. I used to spend a great deal of time trying to plan lessons with specific outcomes in mind, only to discover the most important learning had little to do with what I planned. It took me a long time to accept that reality, especially as a father. We are sometimes so focused on the what, we lose sight of the who and why. My youngest daughter recently made this truth clearer in a powerful way.

Over a decade ago, Jeanette and I were involved in a terrible car wreck. It disrupted our lives and made that July very difficult. Like many families dealing with a crisis, Jeanette and I – especially Jeanette – worked hard to try to keep life normal. As things slowly improved, we left that time behind and moved on with our lives. Occasionally, we might laugh about some embarrassing moments or the kindness of friends, but we never really talked about that July. I thought it was history. Then Cassie wrote a poem for my birthday last month entitled July. She used poetry to reveal her truth about those days. While her Mom and I thought we had kept our worries away from our eleven-year-old daughter, she was busy making sense of things on her own. The timing here seems especially appropriate. While Christmas can sometimes become commercial and frivolous, at its core it reveals the grace that keeps this world. I hope your Christmas is filled with love and gratitude. Here’s Cassie’s poem.

July

 by Cassie Danielson

 Hit at an intersection by a drunk driver,

Their dark green Trail Blazer rolled, then rolled twice more into a farmer’s field on a warm July night.

That summer our refrigerator filled with lasagna,

A man, a stranger, came to my front door with a box of soda in glass bottles. I thought

It must be special.

The late afternoon sun on his face,

The way he fumbled for words.

A nurse prepared me for the blood on the floor.

Hi Sweet Pea, with the grin he had given me all my life.

Hi Dad.

The helicopter whisked him away.

I was going into the 6^th grade.

Mom came home first. When her friends planned a night at our house, I remember

The nail polish Laura painted on my fingers,

Blue polish with a white design on top,

The kind that use those little pieces of tape.

The silver moon shone through the crescent window in our living room,

I heard him say,

If I knew it was going to hurt this bad, I would rather be dead.

He did not know I was awake.

My dad would not say that if he knew I was listening.

In court the driver’s family cried next to mine.

His sister – or mother – handed me a Kleenex.

I wondered what she thought,

What he felt.

My mom’s skin healed over shards of glass that gradually lifted to the surface years later.

I learned a body could do that.

I found comfort in the sound of my dad learning to breathe again.

There is No Darkness But Ignorance

Like many of you, we just hosted a house full of friends and relatives to give thanks and eat too much. Among the guests was a collection of children of various ages. After dinner the older kids went outside to shoot hoops or talk. Inside the younger kids played.  Of course, having a kindergarten teacher in the group made the playing easier. The crayons and paper and games and forts – made with sheets and clothespins, thank you very much! – captivated the little ones.  I couldn’t help but smile as I watched them lose track of time and themselves as they entered the imaginary places they created. (I can also see two lovely drawings taped to the refrigerator that Jeanette and I received from our visiting artists.) Jeanette has often talked about the vital importance of letting children have “free play” time. The time when children use their own imagination to solve problems and explore at their own pace. This got me thinking about recent discussions with friends and colleagues about the nature of learning and school. What do we want our children to know and be able to do? What does it mean to be “well educated?” How do we determine the value of an education? Of course, these conversations have been going on forever, but here in Wisconsin we have always recognized that our communities are richer if our citizens are well educated and well informed. At a time when so much misinformation is so widely spread, we need citizens to be critical thinkers. Yet, I have recently heard people say that we should stop encouraging some kids to attend college. We need to steer kids toward a trade, so they can earn a living. Why should these kids waste their time and money in school if they can earn $50,000 a year without it?  I worry we are limiting the potential of some citizens and hurting our democracy.

When my children were very young, I was frequently amazed – and often exasperated – by their curiosity. They wanted to investigate everything. As every parent knows, there is a good reason to put safety locks on every cupboard. (Even those got investigated!) Children are hungry to learn about the world that surrounds them. At first, education was just a family thing.  But eventually we realized that we were all better off if the community helped educate our children. We know that parents and family have a huge influence on their kids, but we parents also know we can’t give what we don’t have. I did my best to help my children learn to write, but I needed help teaching them math. I know a lot about living in rural Wisconsin, but I want my kids to know about Athens and Paris, too. In short, I’m grateful that the founders of America recognized the critical role education and enlightenment needed to play in America. It was so important they made it available to every child and insisted that everyone share the cost of our public schools.  The wisdom of giving every citizen the chance to keep learning is part of America’s greatness. We know that knowledge and information are not only critical for our democracy, they are invaluable to individuals. How have we gotten to the point where education has been devalued for so many of our people?

Perhaps it is the constant suggestion by certain groups that our schools are failing. For decades people have heard this cry. Certainly, some schools are not working.  But, for most people, the public school model has served us well for two centuries. Perhaps it is because some people say schools cost too much. In Wisconsin we cut millions and millions from our schools because Walker said we were broke. Also, the cost of going to college is enormous.  Perhaps it’s because some view advanced education as elitist. It doesn’t help that some well-educated people are arrogant elitists. Maybe it’s because our standards-based, one size fits all curriculum and the endless standardized testing makes school dull and uninteresting. Perhaps it’s because businesses need workers for jobs few people want.  Maybe it’s all of these. Whatever the case, we should be using all our ingenuity to create lifelong learning programs that are convenient, affordable, and interesting. We know how to make good schools, especially here in Wisconsin.  We understand the critical necessity for highly trained professional teachers, appropriate facilities and resources, and best practice techniques to help kids. We have some of the best K-12 schools and colleges in the world. We just need to be willing to pay for it so everyone has the chance to benefit. What we can’t do is stand by while certain kids are told education is not really all that important.

The American Dream has always included the idea that every citizen should have the chance to reach their highest potential. As it stands, far too many are being told that their highest potential is limited by their background and income. Everyone deserves the chance to do productive work and to study to their highest level. We know the consequences of ignorance, but let’s never forget the benefits of enlightenment.

You Will Be Found

Dear Teachers,

I like the sound of rain on the roof. The steady patter is comforting and timely. (I reseeded a bit of lawn and it needs the rain.) There is also a hint of fall in the cool air this late August morning. The light is changing and so are the seasons. It’s like a signal to Jeanette and all the other teachers I know. She has been working on and off in her classroom for a couple weeks, but now she gets that look in her eye when she thinks about her new kindergarten students. Already she is out looking for monarch caterpillars to bring to school, and this year she decided an old cast iron bathtub filled with pillows and blankets will provide a perfect spot for reading in her classroom. Jeanette knows that one of her major goals – maybe the most important – is to help these little people learn to love what happens at school. To learn the skills necessary to engage in the life of the intellect, but also to learn the social skills necessary to build supportive communities. To find a place that feels safe and caring. I have come to marvel at the unique challenges of her work. Just yesterday she was discussing with a fellow teacher the strategies she had to employ to get one of her students to overcome her fear of the noisy self- flushing toilet at school so she could use the bathroom! I know you are busy preparing, but permit me to make a few observations about the start of this new school year.

I hope you will forgive me if I state what seems to be obvious to you. As I’ve grown older, I’m sometimes surprised by what I didn’t see before. As some of you know, I am a believer in the power of storytelling. As a narrative species we spend much of our time sharing our experiences through stories. In the hands of a good playwright, a story can be used to help us better understand our lives and the world around us. The Theatre can be a place of powerful learning. Recently I had the good fortune – thanks to Jeanette – to attend a performance of a Broadway musical called Dear Evan Hansen. In a nutshell it is the story of a socially awkward teenager and his single mother trying to find some sense of purpose and satisfaction in these complicated times. I have known students like Evan Hansen – thoughtful, generous, shy, awkward – who can’t seem to find a place to fit in. He also loves his mom and doesn’t want her to worry.  I could identify with Heidi, Evan’s mother, trying to encourage her son to see beyond his limits. When she sings, “Does anybody really know how the hell to do this?” I could only smile and shake my head recalling my own confusion about parenting.  And if the reaction of the audience was any guide, many others felt the same way. Here’s the thing.  At the heart of this beautiful piece of theatre is the old, old truth we often talk about but have so much trouble applying – empathy and compassion are the most important emotions in our society. How do we see the world through another’s eyes and how do we help one another? How do we help our children develop these essential skills? Of course we want our children to read, write, and calculate, but we need them to know how much we need each other.  And this is where your job gets complicated and essential, especially in a world that is struggling to understand the impact of the “gadgets” that surround us. So while we continue to debate about subject matter, I will leave it to you to look into our kids eyes and help them find their place in our world. Help them learn to read and write, but never forget the power you have to comfort and inspire. And by all means, see Dear Evan Hansen.

Have a good year.

A poem:

The New Criticism

My stepdaughter
says I’m boring.
“Everything you say
is boring and like
so seventies.” Her mother
says I’m wonderful, though.
“She’s being fresh. Don’t
listen to her,” she says.
But I can’t help listening
because I want to be
fresh and not boring,
and I want to say ‘like’
like my stepdaughter
because everything
is like something, not
exactly but sort of.
And she’s so contemporary
and provocative and like
alive. She knows all the new
neologisms and would
never use neologism
in a poem. Like ever.

………..Paul Hostovsky

The fault, Dear Brutus...

I recently watched the Charlie Rose interview with Senator Ben Sasse from Nebraska. I have always enjoyed Charlie Rose because he is a well-informed, professional journalist. I have been aware of Senator Sasse for a while now because he recognized how totally incompetent Trump was as a leader and the danger he presented for America and the Republican Party. I have not had the chance to read his book yet, save for a few extended excerpts. But after listening to him discuss the book, I suspect I have read others like it. (Bowling Alone comes to mind.)  And although he rightfully criticizes the current leader of his Party, he seems to argue the same old ideas.

Ben Sasse appears to be a very nice man. He grew up in a small town in Nebraska and studied his way into Harvard. His Christian faith influences his life, he has a traditional family and seems to love his children.  He appears to understand that our communities work better when everyone works together. He does not appear to be a liar, a braggart, a misogynist, a con man, or any of the other things some might see as flaws. He recognizes that education is vital for our success. He reminds me of Barack Obama in that way. Articulate, self-effacing, intelligent and decent.  He is genuinely curious about our society and recognizes that thoughtful discussion by well-informed citizens is necessary for that society to work. For many, it is a relief to hear a “far right conservative” – his words - that sounds reasonable and well informed.  Unfortunately, sounding reasonable in defense of lousy policies is still a problem. While Mr. Sasse has criticized Trump for his incompetence and poor character, he has voted to support 95% of Trump’s agenda. So while I’m glad that Mr. Sasse is not a narcissistic fool like Trump, I worry that he supports an agenda that the majority of American voters – by 3 million votes – do not support. Still, he does discuss some important issues related to the current turmoil in America.

It is clear that Mr. Sasse worries that America is losing its sense of community. He recognizes that society works better when people are bound together by a belief in basic values.  The challenge for America – and everyone else for that matter - has always been how we decide what those values are and how we behave as a result. Of course, none of this is new. The issues that the Senator raises have been discussed for decades, centuries in some cases. Who hasn’t heard complaints about young people going to hell in a hand basket? That does not mean the discussion isn’t important. It just means we need to put this in perspective. As a kid who grew up on a small farm in rural Wisconsin, who went on to college to become a high school English teacher, and who raised his family in a small, rural community, I think I can identify with the concerns Mr. Sasse discusses.

As I said, I have not read the Senator’s entire book, but from his interview with Charlie Rose he suggests that we are not raising children who are resilient enough. Kids today give up too easily and parents protect them from the consequences of their behavior. Again, none of this is new. I grew up in the ‘60s when Republicans breyed about the “long haired hippie freaks” ruining the country. “Those Commie loving parents who didn’t know how to discipline their children.”  Mr. Sasse is not wrong to suggest kids need to learn responsibility and determination, he just oversimplifies it. It’s nice to know his upbringing in rural Nebraska was beneficial because he had “chores” to do on the farm, but without understanding all the other social benefits he accrued from the community he lived in, you can’t draw many conclusions. Nor can you simply blame parents for not doing the right things. After 40 years of parent-teacher conferences, I can assure you the vast majority want their children to be successful and responsible. They genuinely want to provide the best opportunities and experiences for their children. What they don’t often realize is how the dismantling of our social support systems has made life for average citizens much more difficult. And please understand, I am not suggesting that Mr. Sasse doesn’t know all this. I am suggesting that his ignoring it is telling. Mr. Sasse knows there is a careful balance that parents need to provide if they want their children to prosper. He had the enormous good fortune to live in a family and a community with the resources to give him that chance. Many, many families are not as fortunate, especially today. Without the support and guidance of the social and cultural networks that surround us, many families find themselves struggling. Unfortunately, it is the very policies and programs Senator Sasse supports that have helped dismantle our social safety net. The unfettered “free market” system Mr. Sasse supports has led us to the worst economic inequality since the Great Depression and nearly created a second depression. Families are much stronger if they have the resources to meet their needs. I’m afraid Mr. Sasse is making things harder for average parents and children.

It was also interesting to hear Mr. Sasse talk about the break down in the “belief set” that supports our society. He says we have developed “collective amnesia” concerning our group understanding of rights and responsibilities. Who can argue with that? Look at what happened in Charlottesville!  We have argued for generations about what “real” Americans value and I’m glad Mr. Sasse recognizes that Trump does not have the values of most Americans. Again, however, the devil is in the details. The founders of the American Dream recognized the need to develop a social fabric that would knit various people together. An institution where all Americans would come together to learn about the world and each other. An institution that welcomed ALL citizens regardless of religious beliefs and, later, ethnicity. This great American institution is the public school. How ironic that Mr. Sasse would lament the loss of our collective memory and experience while supporting policies that disrupt public education. More ironic is the reality that Mr. Sasse clearly got a good education at his local public high school, yet seems to suggest public schools are failing. Again, it’s not that simple and Mr. Sasse knows it. He can take real pride in his personal achievements, but he also knows he is enormously fortunate. The vast majority of average American kids are getting an excellent education in their public schools despite the constant banter about their “failure”. We just need visionary representatives who know the value of our schools and provide the resources they need. Here in Wisconsin we have moved backward, cutting more than $1 billion – that’s billion with a B – from our state schools. Every teacher I know works hard to find new and meaningful ways to reach kids. They search for ways to help our children better understand our American society. It is very difficult to listen to a guy who used the public system to get ahead, then home schooled his children, and now wants to limit the role of public schools. (For the record, if I hear another Republican tell me he is giving schools more “tools” and more “options” by cutting budgets, I will scream.) On the philosophical side, it seems Mr. Sasse is channeling Allan Bloom’s The Closing of the American Mind and E.D. Hirsch’s Cultural Literacy when he suggests our schools are not doing the right things. I’m sorry, but this is the same conservative argument that has been around forever. Grumpy white men who didn’t have fun in the ‘60s want you to read other grumpy white men from the past. Don’t get me wrong. As a former English teacher I am thrilled that Mr. Sasse and Melissa, his wife, urge kids to be voracious readers. And while I appreciate the reading list Mr. Sasse provides, I know my list would be different. I also know the value of reading is only enhanced by the thoughtful and insightful discussion provided by a diverse classroom and a skilled teacher. If Mr. Sasse really wants to promote the common beliefs that bring our communities closer, he would do all he can to support our public schools.

I am happy that Ben Sasse is concerned about the state of our society. I am thrilled that he recognizes the danger Trump presents to our democracy. I rejoice that he urges young people to read and be informed. Now, he must recognize that those things are not enough. He needs to use his position as a public servant to craft public policies that promote the values he espouses. It does little good to criticize the bumbling Trump when he insults minorities to then support policies which suppress voters and deny rights. It does little good to wax poetic about the American Dream and then tell LGBTQ people that they are “damaged” and don’t deserve equal rights. I believe Senator Sasse has made some thoughtful observations about our society. I hope he will continue to call out those who fail to live up to our shared American values, especially in his own party. Finally, I hope he will come to see how his role as a public servant requires him to include all American citizens. In that way we can all look to a brighter future.

Color and Light

A bluebird has taken up residence in a birdhouse Jeanette placed on an old stump in our backyard. He ignored the half dozen houses placed strategically around the property and chose a temporary spot set up by accident. Go figure. Sparrows and wrens need birdhouses too, I suppose. The fields around our house are buzzing with life. Fledgling birds are trying out their new wings, a bumper crop of bunnies scamper about, and the corn is headed for the sky. There is a sense of hope and possibility in there air. I am grateful for this July because this has been a season of letting go, especially for Jeanette. She is still figuring out how to live in a world without her mom in it. The immediate shock is wearing off, but a whole house full of memories remain. Each time she approaches the place she grew up, the past rises like a hymn. The journey through those rooms is on hold for a while. For now, the garden and her flower beds have become a place of refuge. The time she spent at her mother’s side is now filled among purple cone flowers and lilies. As I watch her, however, she often pauses and looks out across the fields. She says she still thinks of things she wants to tell her mother and then realizes with a start her mom is gone. She strolls from place to place, trying to make sense of this new state of affairs. The flowers remind her that the seasons of life are natural, that all living things begin and end in a rhythm we can’t control nor fully understand. In her book The Year of Magical Thinking, Joan Didion suggests the difference between grief and mourning is that mourning requires attention. It helps explain why we are so often surprised by moments of deep sadness long after a loved one dies. We fall victim to the myth that we need to be “strong” and move on. Thankfully, Jeanette’s mom was an artist and her paintings have left an emotional trail to help her daughter find her way.

Aren’t we all trying to understand our past? Don’t we all wonder how we got to where we are? What an enormous gift it can be to have some record of what your parents were thinking and feeling as they grew up.  My own father – who likely would have scoffed at the idea of being called an artist and never talked about his feelings – revealed the most to me when he played his guitar and sang the old songs he knew. Art communicates beyond words.  The large collection of water color paintings her mom left behind has given Jeanette the chance to “pay attention” to the legacy of her mother. To see the world through her eyes. When Jeanette was recently asked to exhibit some of her mom’s work at our local library, she thoughtfully and lovingly selected paintings that revealed her mom’s joy in color and light. After seeing those paintings, there is little surprise this morning why Jeanette pauses amid the tiger lilies and marigolds to look across the meadow. Her mom would have smiled.

Speak the Speech

The weather was perfect for the 2017 UW-Madison graduation ceremony at Camp Randall Stadium last week. Thousands of family members flooded into the stands to see their loved ones receive recognition for completing another part of their education. I was there because Margaret (daughter #3) was receiving her masters as a school social worker. I’m not a big fan of large crowds and formal ceremonies, but I do appreciate the speeches that are given on such occasions. When I was still teaching public speaking to high school kids, I had a special fondness for the ceremonial speeches we studied. I told my students that throughout history we have always used words to “sanctify” certain experiences and that each of them would almost certainly be asked to do the same at some time in their lives. Steve Levitan, writer of Modern Family and other TV shows, gave a funny and moving speech about his journey from UW to Hollywood.   He said he would try to avoid the clichés, but still managed to hit most of the usual themes. Take chances when you are young. Don’t quit if you fail. Reach your potential by doing something you love. Those are all good pieces of advice. Still, there are a few things I would have added to my speech for Mags. I would have said:

I am very proud of you. Your thirst for knowledge and understanding is inspiring. Not just in the classroom, but also in the books, the poems, and the songs you share so often. You also have come to understand empathy in a way many others would not. You seem to understand that the only way we can make our society truly work is for all of us to try to see the world through “different” eyes. From the time you were small, you - like your mother and sisters - would be moved to tears by the suffering of others. Please never lose that trait. The world needs your heart.

We live in troubling times, but don’t despair. America has had bad times before.  There are heroic and dedicated public servants all around you who know that America can be better. Don’t let the voices of hate and division drown out your voice of hope and unity. I know I have shared this Robert Kennedy quote with you before, but it is still true. I heard it first in 1968 when I was 17 years old. “First, is the danger of futility: the belief there is nothing one man or one woman can do against the enormous array of the world's ills-against misery and ignorance, injustice and violence. Yet many of the world's greatest movements, of thought and action, have flowed from the work of a single man. A young monk began the Protestant Reformation, a young general extended an empire from Macedonia to the borders of the earth, and a young woman reclaimed the territory of France. It was a young Italian explorer who discovered the New World, and the thirty-two-year-old Thomas Jefferson who proclaimed that all men are created equal.
………..Few will have the greatness to bend history itself, but each of us can work to change a small portion of events, and in the total of all those acts will be written the history of this generation..... It is from numberless diverse acts of courage and belief that human history is shaped. Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring those ripples build a current which can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.”

The world needs your voice for hope and love.

Finally, I have one more bit of advice in my old age, especially for you. There are some things we can’t see by looking at them directly. We have to see them out of the corner of the eye or in reflection. We can only see the wind when it ruffles the grass or the sun when it reflects off the lake. Many of the most important experiences in my life happened or not by serendipity. The person who became my dear friend stopped to talk in the hall. The cherished antique dish that fell to the floor and did not break. The lovely summer drive when nobody died. I have learned that when I planned too much - if I stared at the goal I wanted - I couldn’t see the things out of the corner of my eye. Those things that make a life rich and full. Try not to worry about things you can’t control. There is much to see beyond the obvious.

            Let me end with a poem.

The Writer
by Richard Wilbur
In her room at the prow of the house Where light breaks, and the windows are tossed with linden, My daughter is writing a story. I pause in the stairwell, hearing From her shut door a commotion of typewriter-keys Like a chain hauled over a gunwale. Young as she is, the stuff Of her life is a great cargo, and some of it heavy: I wish her a lucky passage. But now it is she who pauses, As if to reject my thought and its easy figure. A stillness greatens, in which The whole house seems to be thinking, And then she is at it again with a bunched clamor Of strokes, and again is silent. I remember the dazed starling Which was trapped in that very room, two years ago; How we stole in, lifted a sash And retreated, not to affright it; And how for a helpless hour, through the crack of the door, We watched the sleek, wild, dark And iridescent creature Batter against the brilliance, drop like a glove To the hard floor, or the desk-top, And wait then, humped and bloody, For the wits to try it again; and how our spirits Rose when, suddenly sure, It lifted off from a chair-back, Beating a smooth course for the right window And clearing the sill of the world. It is always a matter, my darling, Of life or death, as I had forgotten.  I wish What I wished you before, but harder.

Ode to Joy

I’m sure almost everybody has heard some part of Beethoven’s 9^th Symphony without knowing it. The “Ode to Joy” section of the symphony is often played at Christmas time and has been used in numerous commercials. I’m not sure, however, most people know Beethoven was almost completely deaf when he composed the 9^th, his last symphony. I mention this because I heard a section of the 9^th on the radio and it reminded me of my teaching days.

Remember the old saying that you only get one chance to make a first impression? All teachers want students to feel welcome and safe in their classroom while also maintaining a sense of order. As a high school English teacher, it took me a while to figure out how to do that. At first I tried the “Don’t Smile until Christmas” model. That’s the idea that the teacher must command respect and students must do what they are told. I thought this might be required when I started teaching at age 22 and had students only a few years younger. I thought I had to prove that I knew more than they did and that if they listened carefully, I would fill them with knowledge. (Remember I started teaching in 1973.) Gradually, I recognized it didn’t matter that I could read a story and wax eloquent about it; it mattered that THEY learn to read a story and make sense of it. I discovered how clever my students were at getting their teacher to explain the “deep” meanings in a poem or a play by simply being silent. I slowly realized if I wanted my students to be deep, thoughtful readers, they would need to understand “reading” in a new, personal way and be willing to talk about it. The “Don’t Smile until Christmas” model seemed kind of lame, especially when my students so often made me smile. How could I do what Jonathon Kozol suggests is the best thing a teacher can do, “…Entrap them first in fascination. Entrap them in merriment and hopeful expectations”.

I went to the “Smile As Often As You Can” plan and tried to make my classroom as welcoming as possible. A big part of that plan included music. I played music to create mood and accompany activities. I played music to enrich stories. Eventually, I used music to help my students understand poetry. Music and poetry deal with feelings that aren’t easily captured in words. What a perfect way to help kids understand that we all have our own unique way of making sense of the world. How enlightening for me as a teacher to realize that much of my job was to help my students examine and understand their own experiences. Suddenly, the things that Piaget and Sizer wrote began to make more sense. By examining and analyzing my own experiences, I was doing what I wanted my students to do – gain insight. Enter Beethoven.

Not very many high school kids are classical music fans. (Not all that many adults are either.)  I found that I when I played classical music in class I often got groans or rolling eyes. Once, however, I decided to use a slice of Beethoven’s last movement from the 9^th Symphony on the very first day of class. I’d usually stand near the door and welcome my new students. When class began, I introduced myself and simply asked them to listen. I went to my cassette player and played the last two minutes or so of the symphony. It’s the part where Beethoven creates the most exhilarating climax of this extraordinary piece of music. I always tried to play it as loud as I dare. I wanted my class to feel immersed in the music. (Later on I could show a YouTube version and they could see the enormity of the choir and orchestra.) When it ended I would simply ask, “What do you think?” The response was often silence. It’s hard to talk about music, especially the first day of class. But when I went on to explain that Beethoven was completely deaf when he wrote the 9^th, they listened more carefully. Many smiled when I told them about the first time Beethoven conducted his 9^th Symphony. When the performance ended, the audience stood to give Beethoven an ovation. Because he was deaf, he did not hear the applause. When Caroline Unger, the mezzo soprano soloist, touched Beethoven’s arm so he could see the audience, many in the crowd had tears in their eyes. It didn’t take long for someone to ask, “How could he write music if he couldn’t hear?” “How did he know it sounded like it did?” “Why would he do it?” All excellent questions. I would explain that they could find those answers from musical historians. “For now, keep this in mind, any time you ever feel discouraged or defeated, remember this music and Beethoven’s determination.”

I used Beethoven on and off for years along with various other composers. I wish I could say it was fool proof. It wasn’t. But it did work for some. What I can say, however, is any time I have felt defeated or discouraged I have often thought of Beethoven’s perseverance. When I have seen students overcome disheartening issues and obstacles, I hear Beethoven’s finale. One of the fringe benefits of being a teacher is the ability to practice what we preach.  Anyone for Bach?