(re) Week 3
(re) Week 2
(re) Week 1
You Have a Party to Plan
Friends,
As I grow older, I learn things about myself. Sometimes the lessons appear in the form of an epiphany, while others are more of a slow awakening/acceptance of an idea long held inside. In recent years, one such lesson has grown in importance and intensity.
I like a party.
I should clarify. I'm not talking about the raging bash you threw when your parents were out of town; I am talking about a celebration that honors a person or marks a milestone.
I came to this realization several years ago when I let a milestone pass without publicly/personally acknowledging it. I did it with the best intentions. I didn't want anyone to go to any trouble and wanted to be humble. What happened was I just made myself sad.
To be clear, I don't need a large gathering and I don't need a cake, although I like me some butter-cream frosting. I need and want to celebrate the people and moments in our lives that are significant. I need a moment of joy and a sense of closure.
Or I will feel sad, which is how I feel today. Because, I feel like we have missed a milestone.
You have just endured fourteen of the most challenging months of your life. You survived a program crushing pandemic, one that likely left you isolated, feeling sad, depressed, and angry. Its effects on you and your program will be felt for years to come. Many of you crossed the pandemic finish line not to a fanfare and celebration but to a whimpering sigh of relief that the year had finally ended.
This is not how I want this year to end. I want to celebrate. In fact, I want to celebrate YOU!
I want Barry Manilow's Looks Like We Made It (anybody know Barry?!) blaring from a hundred speakers as we commiserate, commemorate, and celebrate the fact that we survived. Literally and figuratively. WE SURVIVED. Yes, we're bloodied, bruised, and somewhat broken. But, we're here.
I want hugs and high fives. I want laughter and joy. And yes, I do want cake.
When the time is right, I encourage you to dispense with the humility, gather your family/friends, and honor the accomplishments and achievements of your pandemic year.
You earned this. You deserve this. You NEED this!
Call it FOMO, call it exhaustion, call it what you will. But I am sad. Sad that I am not there to celebrate you and all that you have accomplished.
As is traditional, with the onset of June comes a break in writing. After fourteen months of non-stop writing, creating, and webinaring (yes, I made that word up), it is time for a break—a break for you, from me. It's time for you to rest.
Me? I will be running around the country and available/willing/wanting, should you need anything, please feel free to reach out. But if not, enjoy the space and time away. As always, I will be back in your inbox sometime in mid-July.
In the meantime, stop reading this. You have a party to plan? Please send pictures of the cake so I can feel like I was there. #FOMO
Enjoy your time away, You have earned it.
-Scott
The Race We Never Intended to Run
Fourteen months of a global pandemic got you feeling blue? Are you stressed out, Zoomed out, and overwhelmed? If so, you're likely suffering from burnout, and you're not alone.
The term burnout originated in 1973. Not the feeling, mind you, just the term. The emotion? Well, I imagine that occurred shortly after the invention of work.
In fact, according to a recent article in the New Yorker Magazine, one Swiss psychotherapist, while studying the history of burnout, insists that he found evidence of it in the Old Testament.
Herbert J. Freudenberger is the man who coined the term burnout. By the time he was twelve, Nazis had torched the synagogue to which his family had belonged. Using his father's passport, Freudenberger fled Germany. Eventually, he made his way to New York, attended Brooklyn College, and later completed a doctorate in psychology at N.Y.U.
The New Yorker states Fredenberber coined the term after a self-diagnosis. In 1970, he started a free clinic at St. Mark's Place in New York. Freudenberger worked all day in his practice and then went to the clinic, where he worked until midnight. "You start your second job when most people go home," he wrote in 1973, "and you put a great deal of yourself into the work. You feel a total sense of commitment . . . until you finally find yourself, as I did, in a state of exhaustion."
Feel familiar?
As I mentioned in last week's e-zine, the global pandemic and America's do more, get more culture, add to the burnout phenomenon. Still, it is not by any means isolated to our country or our profession. The World Health Organization recognized burnout syndrome in 2019 after it declared that it had killed 745,000 people in just one year. In Sweden and other Nordic countries, you can even go on sick leave for burnout. Yet another reason I want to move to Denmark.
If that were the case in the U.S., I suspect we would have to cancel music education entirely during the month of May.
Burnout is not unique to music education or education in general, but I believe it to be more common than other professions. The unique nature of the activity, the ever-increasing performance demands, and the visibility associated with performing ensembles add fuel to our souls, but also to the fire. And increased fuel means a bigger and more dangerous fire.
I guess you could say that for music educators, burnout is an occupational hazard, and we should never find themselves too far from overhead sprinklers or a fire extinguisher.
But for me, the emotional baggage associated with burnout is worse than the physical exhaustion.
In my experience, music educators often feel ashamed when we experience burnout. We are embarrassed to admit that we have lost our way, our fire, and need some help. We need to be reminded that we have done nothing wrong, nor have we brought this upon ourselves, and that this is a natural response to an unnatural situation.
Keep in mind, being burnt out means you were at one time ON FIRE! And that is something to be admired.
Think about it. What kind of teacher do you want to be? What kind of teacher do you want teaching your children or your loved ones? One who is ON FIRE, or one who played it safe, kept it cool, and never took risks?
To my way of thinking, experiencing burnout is an indicator of success. A sign that you ran as fast as possible, helped as many people as you could, and made every effort to make an impact. Burnout is a badge of honor and proof-positive that you went all in, gave everything you had in service of your students, and have nothing more left to give.
You should scream from the rooftops, "I burned out because I was ON FIRE, BABY!!!
I am not a psychologist. Nor am I a trained counselor. And, If you need help, please seek it.
All I am saying is that in some small and perverse way, feeling bad should make you feel good. You just completed a sixty-week pandemic marathon that you did not choose to run, having had no time to prepare for it.
After this year, I would be more concerned about your mental health if you WEREN'T burnt out. But as bad as you feel now, it will soon feel better. The schools will reopen, the masks will be removed, the hugs will happen and music will once again ring through the concert halls.
Herbert Freudenberger died in 1999 at the age of seventy-three. His obituary in the Times noted, "He worked 14 or 15 hours a day, six days a week, until three weeks before his death." He had run himself ragged.
But when he stopped running, he stopped living. Perhaps the lesson is not to stop running. but pause for recovery.
The race begins anew in August. Now is your time for recovery.
Have a great week!
- Scott
South of France and Hygge
Several years ago, after a family dinner conversation filled with ribbing dad (me), I screamed, "SOUTH OF FRANCE, PEOPLE... SOUTH OF FRANCE! When my then nine-year-old asked what that meant, I retorted, "That's where I wish I was right now!" Fast forward to the next Father's Day. I now own, not one, but two, coffee mugs that say, "South of France, people."
My family loves nothing more than to mock me.
I have long wondered what it would be like to live in a foreign country, and on multiple occasions, we as a family have had discussions over dinner about where we would like to move and why.
My wife has her ideal destination as somewhere warm and close to a beach. She has specifically mentioned the Mediterranean or Central America. Having lived in Arizona most of my life, I dream of a cooler climate and four seasons. Canada or any of the Nordic countries would do just fine by me. My kids? They don't care as long as there is good wi-fi!
Seeing as Canada would not be THAT much of a leap, let's stick with Northern Europe. Switzerland is stunning, and the music and culture of Austria are second to none. Germany has a killer economy, and I have heard that Prague is the prettiest city in all of Europe. But my ultimate destination is Denmark.
The Danish people and their Nordic counterparts have long been known as home to the world's happiest people. For the past 60 years, the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development(OECD) has been tracking ten characteristics that lead to happiness, including income, work-life balance, education, community, and general life satisfaction. Denmark scored 9.7 out of 10.
The United States score? A distant 7.4.
When you ask a Danish person why they are so happy, they are likely to answer with just one word, hygge. Defined by Websters, "acknowledging a feeling or moment, whether alone or with friends, at home or out, ordinary or extraordinary as cozy, charming or special, hygge (pronounced hue-guh) is a defining characteristic of Danish culture and life."
Denmark is not alone in this sentiment, and each Nordic country has its own version of the term (lagom-Switzerland, kalsarikännit-Finland). Still, all the terms boil down to the concept of setting modest expectations and being happy and content with what you have.
The concept of modesty of abundance and accepting one's station in life is decidedly un-American. In addition to being the land of the brave and home of the free, we are also home to those that want more, do more, and achieve more. I suspect that this drive is the root cause of both America's success and our unhappiness. Americans do and achieve GREAT things (think three vaccines in 10 months), but we seem incapable of stopping afterward, taking a breath, celebrating our achievement, and being content with what we have accomplished.
The chances of me moving to Denmark (or the South of France) are zero. I love where I am and the life I have created. But that does not mean we all couldn't use a little more hygge.
During last Tuesday night's webinar, I asked all of the attendees to rate how they were doing emotionally on a scale of 1-10, with 10 being the best. One respondent stated, "I am a 3, and I don't know why." I responded, "I know why! YOU'RE IN THE MIDDLE OF A GLOBAL PANDEMIC; YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO FEEL LOUSY!"
That got a pretty good chuckle out of the room. But, it's true.
Listen, I doubt if any of your spring concerts were as good as they were pre-pandemic, and many of you are seeing declines in musical skill sets and ensemble achievement. I am also guessing that lower enrollment numbers for the upcoming fall are keeping you up at night. Seeing all of this might have some of you feeling down, dejected, or despondent.
Hygge people.
Maybe, just for now, it's okay for our groups to be just okay. Perhaps, we should accept the concert for what it was, the kids for who they are, and worry about those in front of us instead of those who aren't. This is not embracing mediocrity so much as accepting reality.
Do this for your students, for the profession, and your sanity. Be content that you are healthy, have a job, and are surrounded by people who love you. You made it through the worst by being at your best.
Next year will be better—a time when you can start anew and kick some serious backside. But consider the possibility that for the next couple of weeks, we should take a moment, take a breath, and celebrate being okay. Celebrate the wrong notes, missed classes, and bad internet. Celebrate the masks, the social distancing, and air hugs. Celebrate that you are alive and able, and that for now, that is enough.
Hygge.
As for me, I might need a new mug. One that says, "South of Denmark, people... South of Denmark!
Have a great week.
- Scott
Yolo Whipash
There's a movement sweeping across America. A post-pandemic whiplash response to thirteen months of Zooming through their days staring at a screen while dreaming of sough dough bread and looking forward to your one human interaction of the day – your Pelaton coach! The movement?
YOLO (You only live once)!
An acronym popularized nearly a decade ago by the rapper Drake (I had to Google that as I am not cool enough to have already known that), YOLO has become the rallying cry of the millennials in search of happiness, fulfillment, and meaning. After fourteen months of being home, yearning for anything but the status quo, and flush with cash, workers everywhere are throwing caution into the wind and are rethinking their lives and careers.
Some are dictating return to work terms while others start side hustles and passion projects. For some, they are changing jobs or leaving corporate America altogether. Regardless of the circumstance, one thing is clear, when things go back to normal, normal will look very different.
To be clear, the Pandemic is not over, and the continued loss is as significant as it is real. But, as vaccines are administered, and mask mandates are removed, people are anxious to do something, anything... Too LIVE!
As I mentioned last week, Languishing has been the dominant emotion of the past thirteen months. According to a recent Microsoft poll, a staggering 40% of all workers are considering a change of job by year's end.
Wait! Did you think I was talking about you? NNNNOOOOO! I am talking about your students.
YOLO is not limited to those over eighteen. Students might embrace it more than adults. Ever since the 1982 landmark education study A Nation at Risk, America's public schools have been escalating expectations in an academic arms race measure by high states test scores. With each passing year, students are expected to go more, do more, and learn more. They are pressured to score higher, graduate earlier, and do it with more credits. All of this puts pressure not just on kids but on the academic system itself.
And then the Pandemic hit. YOLO!
Young people want to be happy. They want to explore, push boundaries and experience new things but are trapped in a system that doesn't say YOLO; it says LATOP (Live According To Our Plan, and yes, I just made that up.).
If 40% of workers say they want a change, is it unreasonable to think that the number might be the same for students? Few students (if any) would say, "You only live once, so take Trig 2!" They want to play, dance, sing and make music. They want to express, explore and expand. They want to find friends and make memories. They want to be challenged and to change. They want to discover who they are and how they fit into the world around them. This is the reason that now, more than ever, MUSIC MATTERS.
As students return to school, they do so with masks on and eyes wide open. What are they looking for? Their best lives...
YOLO!
Have a great week. Big announcement tomorrow, be sure to look for it.
-Scott
Shock and Blah, & Pandemic Senioritis
Senior Ditch Day has been a long-standing tradition since, well, since we've had seniors. Embraced universally by student-athletes, academics, and artists alike, this special day has become a rite of passage for teenagers everywhere.
In my early years as a teacher, I made futile and foolish attempts to try and "be the adult" and "hold seniors accountable for their attendance." That was a fool's errand of an inexperienced educator.
As the years passed and I gained some perspective and wisdom, I relented, only asking the seniors for a week's notice so I could use that day to talk about next year and announce the fall marching show. It turned out to be a win-win. Seniors got a free day and a tip of the hat (shako) for their four years of loyalty, and I got a chance to get the other students excited about the coming year.
But as all high school teachers know, Senior Ditch Day is really the denouncement of the more significant illness, "senioritis."
We've all experienced/enjoyed it ourselves. Whether it is our final year of high school, college, or the last part of a lengthy journey, we've all been there. You want it to end, and our students are no different. After twelve years of grinding it out, the final twelve weeks prove to be not when students are at their best but at their worst. Heck, Universities stop caring after the first semester of their senior year, so you can see where your students might be taking their queue.
This apathetic and abrupt bout of laziness isn't brought on by a time of year or specific calendar date. It's brought on by fatigue, frustration, and the desire to move on to something different.
Sound familiar?
Much like your teenage counterparts, after twelve grueling months, of teaching from a distance, through a screen, or in hybrid mode, it is likely many of you are experiencing your own version of senioritis.
Let's check.
Are you easily distracted (squirrel!)?
Do you have trouble focusing (another squirrel!)?
Do you have trouble finishing tasks and...
Do you struggle with small detials?
Are you going to work a few minutes later these days and leaving a few minutes early – like before the end of 7th period?
If you were an emoji, would you be "meh"?
(See what I did there? Detials... I am funny!)
Then you have a case of senioritis. Or, as medical professionals call it, Languishing. And yes, it is a medical diagnosis, and you may unknowingly suffer from it.
Just because you aren't depressed doesn't mean that you're not struggling, and just because you don't hate your job doesn't mean that you are all fired up to do it.
As Adam Grant from the New York Times puts it, "Languishing is a sense of stagnation and emptiness. It feels as if you're muddling through your days, looking at your life through a foggy windshield. And it might be the dominant emotion of 2021."
How do we break the cycle? Experts recommend three key steps;
Find and finish small tasks.
Manage your workflow.
Create uninterrupted time.
Small tasks: The pandemic took away big things that impacted us in many ways; however, for many of us, it also took away our sense of control. Try and find a small project you are passionate about and focus on that. This will give you your sense of control back and, when completed, provide you with a victory you so desperately need.
Managing workflow: The average American checks email 74 times a day and switches tasks every 10 minutes (or, as I like to call it, Tuesday morning). This jumping from task to task keeps you from getting in the zone and making real progress. The lack of forward momentum heightens our angst and makes us feel unproductive. Break down big projects into smaller tasks you can accomplish in brief periods. Once you have started, don't stop until they are finished.
Uninterrupted time: Make time to be alone, quiet, and at peace. This allows you to clear your head, calm the spirit, and renew your energy level.
And in this way, maybe the student becomes the teacher.
Our 17-year-old counterparts have been telling us for years that when you feel this way, it's time for a ditch day! A time to manage your flow, focus on something you are passionate about, and have some uninterrupted time.
I'm not kidding either. I say next Friday, the day before Teacher Appreciation Week, you take the day off and celebrate the 12-month journey you have been on.
Make the plan, call the sub, and leave the Languish behind for at least one day.
Happy ditch day, everyone!
-Scott
A Major Champ and Tough Transitions
(Editor's note: Yes, this is the second week in a row he has written about dogs. I warned him about alienating fans of felines, but he brushed it aside, saying it was the snake lovers that scared him.)
This past week, President Biden's younger dog, Major, had another "incident." Unlike my house, where an "incident" means someone is grabbing the Spot Shot and opening the windows, Major's incident was of a different variety.
He bit someone.
Well, not so much bit, more of a nip, as I understand it. I mean, there was no growling or gnashing of teeth. Major just made a quick little jab that didn't even break the victim's skin (an unwitting Secret Service Agent).
Unfortunately, this is not the first time Major has nipped at someone. Several weeks ago, Major snapped at a White House employee and handler in a similar and more publicized incident. Afterward, they sent him to off-site training for remediation.
For nipping?
Perhaps things would be different for Major if he were a puppy or a Miniature Schnauzer. People might look upon the situation differently if he were a fluffy Golden Retriever or lumbering Bassett Hound. But he is not. Major, and Champ, are full-fledged German Shepards and look every bit the part.
After the most recent incident, President Biden publicly defended Major, stating, "He is a sweet dog who comes from a tough background."
And despite his ability to pardon, President Joe Biden is sending Major back to the minors for remediation. Really? My first thought is that we should send the agent to remediation school.
Think about the situation from a normal, non–Presidential perspective.
Major is an adult German Shepard, bred to defend and protect. He was in a new and unfamiliar environment, with someone he did not know, with a gun, standing close to his master.
Yes, I am disappointed in Major. Disappointed he didn't take the agent's right arm off!
Isn't that what you would want and expect your dog to do in similar circumstances? Would you send him to obedience school?! That makes no sense to me and would be a waste of money, in my opinion. It seems to me law enforcement pays gobs of money to train German Shepards to do EXACTLY that. Heck, the way I see it, Major already graduated at the top of his class and should have his name changed to Lassie! (Wait, was Lassie a boy?)
Given the breed, circumstances, and the fact that the Bidens rescued Major from a shelter after enduring prolonged trauma, we should not have been surprised or shocked by this; we should have expected and trained staff for this. You don't punish the dog for behaving like a dog. He was doing what he was born to do.
Not sure where I am going with this? Wait for it...
As students return to our classrooms, it's important to remember that they, too, have endured trauma and are predisposed to behave in a self-protective way. A global pandemic changed their world for an entire year. Like Major, your students are in unfamiliar places, dealing with new and different situations, and are interacting with people in very non-traditional ways.
Students will be on edge. Students will be nervous. Students will occasionally snap at you or other people. Given the circumstances, this is not something to be surprised and angered by; we should expect and train for this. The outbursts, mistakes, and poor choices are not to be excused but should not surprise us. These young people have been through trauma that changed them. The world they returned to is not the world they left. As they re-enter, we need to remember that it's not our (emotional) safety we should be concerned with; it's theirs. So try to be patient. Try to be forgiving. Try to remember that they are humans who have been through something considerable, are in a new world, and will act accordingly.
Major? The way I see it, he should take a victory lap down Pennsylvania Avenue to the halls of Congress. There are a few Senators I would like him to take a nip at!
Have a great week!
Scott