The other day, I wrote about contributing to my school community. Another great thing happened in that little piece of the day.
I’ve been struggling with many of my classes.
Without getting into too many details, my classes are not your typical elementary band classes, because that approach hasn’t worked with the populations I teach.
“Your classroom is like a petri dish for beginning band innovation,” The Tall Daddy summarized.
But we’ve been in a long stretch of it not working. Or sometimes just not working the way I want it to.
I’ve felt frustrated, demoralized, cranky, ineffective, drained. There have been bits and pieces that I’ve been excited about, and I’m grateful to be in a place where I am free to experiment, but mostly, work is not the highlight of my day. (There was a time when it was.)
So the other day, an outside observer came in, silently hung out for a while, and left.
But before she left, she wrote me a card. Photo of the text is above.
“I could feel a sense of love and excitement for music.”
It’s there. Someone saw it.
I have wondered more and more lately: if my teaching situation was different, would I get my mojo back? Or am I just burned out?
It’s still there.
Thank you, random outside observer, for taking the time to write that note to me before you took off. It gave me more than you know.
(That’s part of why writing cards to people is a great habit.)
On the receiving end, when someone pays you a compliment, believe them. Take a moment and see yourself the way they see you, no asterisks.
I could have read the card and said to myself, “Well, she doesn’t really know me and didn’t even see me teaching band today. If she was here more often, she would know that that’s not true.”
Instead, I accepted the compliment, took it as validation, and on I went. (But the card is still on my desk.)
Don’t compare your insides to other people’s outsides.
And, of course, take a moment to pay a compliment. You never know how much it might mean to someone.