[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Most of my music lessons I plan – and also can pretty much tell you the outcome of what will happen (unless there’s something really odd happening, and the kids are really hard work). I’ll be able to tell you which kids will struggle, which of them will be able to do most of the lesson etc. I make it my business to watch things very carefully, although it might look like I’m just horsing around up the front (someone once said to me after a day teaching Early Childhood Lessons ‘Rachel, I don’t know why you are so tired. You’re really just rolling around on the floor with children….’. I’m not sure whether to take this as a total insult (you are doing nothing with these kids), or a compliment (you make this look so easy) – who knows.).

But every so often, I’ll plan something for a class that is actually really hard. I’m not sure how most of the kids will cope. And these lessons start like this….

“So….. year four. I’m going to teach you something I don’t think you’ll be able to do.” Children start grinning.

“I think I’ve chosen the wrong thing. I think this is too hard for you. If you are sitting next to someone you are going to be distracted by, could you move now.” Children continue to grin. A few kids will get up and move, and nearly always make good choices about where they will sit.

“OK. Here we go….. this will probably be too difficult, but let’s give it a try.”

And do you know what? These lessons have always worked. Kids try their damnedest. They all concentrate. They all achieve. And they all go out of the music lesson feeling really good about what they’ve done.

Would adults do that, I wonder? If you were told that something was too hard for you, would you throw yourself into it? I think most of us would say no. We’d walk away. So when does this change? When do we stop grinning at a challenge, and when do we start only staying in our comfort zone?[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]On the weekend, I read an excellent article in the ‘Good Weekend’ (It’s here, if you are interested.) It came at a timely point for me, as I’m reading B.K.S. Iyengar’s ‘Light on Life’ for a yoga course I’m taking. Last week I read a paragraph where he was talking about not letting your own truth be anyone else’s.

This is hard for me. I feel like there are so many things that everyone should agree with me on (like being allowed to end a sentence with a preposition, for one.). Like music education should be taught well, by people who know what they are doing, and compulsory in every school. That creative artists should be paid properly. That there shouldn’t be a big divide between people who can pay for education and who can’t. That teachers and nurses should be better paid. That more money in my tax dollar should be spent on education, rather than defence. That politicians should behave like responsible adults in parliament and be responsible for their own actions (and actually represent the people who voted them in… but don’t get me started.)

But I have to learn to actually let people have other viewpoints. Don’t think I’ve just rolled over and played dead here. The backbone has not left this ranga yet. I will not agree with you. I will judge you for what you say. (Yes – I judge. We all judge, although we’re not meant to admit it. But I will judge you and see if I need to change my actions. You can do what you want, as long as you don’t hurt me.) But I will not get angry with you. Or at least, I will try not to. Because that makes me no better than the people I judge and find lacking.

I think this will be easier to do when I’ve not had any wine.

I’ll let you know how I go with this.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Here’s an interesting thought….. It’s been shown, time and time again that creativity is affected by how much ‘space’ we give our brains. You must have experienced this – you’ve come back from a holiday, and come up with a really good idea, or gone for a big walk and had a solution to a problem that you’d puzzled over. If we stop doing stuff, our creativity can bubble up to the surface.

I’m not just talking about playing music, or creating art – but creative solutions to problems, or great lesson plans, or even a really good present for someone.

And yet we don’t stop. We don’t let our kids stop. We just keep going, keep stimulating. We play games on our phones instead of watching the world go by. We don’t gaze out the window. Instead of just sitting and drinking a cup of tea, we read, or check email as well.

I am bad at this…. in fact, I am terrible. I find it really hard to stop. But lately I have been experimenting on myself. I have been having a cup of tea and sitting and doing nothing. I have been gazing out the window at times. I have lay in bed, not reading or listening to music, but just been there, in the moment.

And you know what? I think my cello playing is improving. (Well, it’s getting a bit wackier. And more spacious. I like it, actually.) These two things could be unrelated, but I don’t think they are.

So here’s a challenge for you. Try it. Don’t worship your phone all the time. Look at the sky. Don’t read and drink tea (or coffee, or wine, or cider, or whatever) – just drink. I think you’ll feel better for it, you know. And probably more creative.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]I would like to start this post by saying that I really hate sport. I don’t play it. I don’t watch it. I don’t really understand why people do. I see the benefits that it gives you, and the way it encourages working with others – but its not really my cup of tea. I have never been great at playing with others, as most of my school reports will attest, and I just can’t really see the point of running after a ball with others in some kind of short covering on my bottom half.

My one-and-only time I was put on a netball court shows what sort of a sportsperson I am. I was tall, so was put near the goal-thing. I was told that some other player would come up with a ball, and try and get it in the hoop. My job was to stop her. Those were my instructions. So I was left in some silly brightly-coloured top thing, and the game starts. Sure enough, someone came up with the ball, and looked like she was going to throw it in the hoop-thing. Just as she was about to, I stamped on her foot. Job done, I figured.

But no. That wasn’t the right thing to do. I wasn’t meant to touch her, apparently. This had been left out of my instructions. I was sent off. I think it was meant to be in disgrace. I was just relieved, actually. Needless to say, netball and I aren’t great friends.

So it came as a great surprise to me how much I liked yoga. I now go to this excellent studio just around the corner from me. I love it. I’ve learnt a great deal about my body, and the teaching is really fabulous. (Most teachers appreciate good teaching when they see it – and I am no exception here.) This year, I’ve embarked on an in-depth course at the centre. It started last month, and will go until the middle of next year. And I decided that if I was going to do this thing, I was going to do it as best as I could. So I’m also going to a few scary weekly classes, where I feel totally out-of-my-depth. My comfort zone and I do not meet at any point in these classes. I decided that I would try everything to the best of my physical ability, and do it with a smile on my face, if I could.

Well, yesterday I was tested. I was asked to balance on my forearms and kick up backwards onto a chair and hold myself there. This, basically. It involved me supporting all my not-inconsiderable weight on my not-very-strong-yet arms, and doing a big backbend onto something I couldn’t really see. I know I am prone to exaggeration. But this next sentence is not. I was terrified. My whole body started shaking. I do not do physical stuff like this. I play the cello and teach music. This crazy stuff is not something I do, or have ever done.

The teacher (who has totally sussed me out) came over. ‘I will help you kick up’ he said. ‘I am frightened.’ I said (Big believer in admitting to fright.). ‘I will help you’ he repeated. ‘Get ready.’

Now, I’m writing this at my desk, so you’ll surmise that I survived this crazy pose. Actually, I did it twice. And the second time I didn’t shake. And it got me realising how many times I think I can’t do something, and yet actually, I could. And here’s another interesting thing – my cello playing has gotten very free and risk-takey (ok – not a word, but you get it).

So if you’ve made it to the end of this post (does anyone?) – here’s my thought for the day. Do something that frightens you today. Don’t be crazy about it, like jump off a cliff, or something like that – but do something that you don’t normally do. And then see what else happens. Did anything else change? It’s a good experiment, I think.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Anyone who reads this regularly knows how much I admire teachers. I’m going to climb up on my soap-box again about them, because, well, I can.

As adults, we go through our lives interacting with other people. We often tread on people’s toes. I’m always reading about powerful people in business who are bastards – who tear people down, belittle people, never say sorry – I’m sure you’ve read them too. It also seems that a lot of grown-up people aren’t very good at saying sorry. Sad, but true.

Actually, I digress. Because I didn’t want to talk about saying sorry. I wanted to talk about forgiving. Well, grudge-harbouring. As adults, we do this. OK – you mightn’t (although I’m pretty sure you do), but I do. I like to pretend that it’s so I don’t get hurt again, and I’m just being protective of myself, but it’s also avoiding certain people and situations. I don’t think someone has behaved well? I’ll try not to have to interact with them again. (C’mon – I’m sure you do it too, if you were going to be really honest.) Have you wronged me in some way? I’ll remember it.

You know a group of people who don’t do that at all? Teachers. (Well, the good ones. I see a lot of these.) Teachers who constantly let children in their care turn over a new leaf. Day after day. Clean slate. They don’t harbour grudges. A parent criticises them? They’ll not allow it to affect their dealings with the child. I see this happen, and it takes superhuman strength. I’ve seen a teacher get dressed down by a parent for not treating their child the way the parent believed the child deserved. Really dressed down. Actually, the child wasn’t behaving well, but the parent wasn’t going to admit that. Hadn’t behaved well all term, in fact. (But what would I know? I’m just the music teacher…) And then the next day, this particular teacher came up with a way forward (sorry – I hate that phrase. Reminds me of a politician, but I can’t think of another way to describe what I saw…) where they addressed the child with a nickname, and gave this kid a way to start completely anew. And it worked. The whole class started to use the nickname. This kid was a new person.  And I was full of admiration for this teacher. Still am.

Where else do you get people doing that for others? Where else do you see people able to do that for others?

Don’t get me wrong – I do think there should be consequences for your actions. But the next time you see a teacher, just remember what they do. Remember how they forgive each kid they teach. Over and over and over. And over again.

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