IN THIS TIME OF MIRACLES

Perhaps it’s because they’re ‘Religious’.  Steeped in the word of the Lord, daily prayer and commitment to God’s work, it must come naturally to them that ‘what needs to be done will be done’, even if it takes a miracle to see things through. Times without number I’ve exclaimed, ‘Sister, you’re asking for a miracle!’ and Sister will calmly reply, ‘Yes.’

 

I’ve also lost count of the innumerable times that I have emphatically stated, ‘It simply cannot be done,’ and Sister has replied, ‘Just do it!’

We have an annual day coming up and, against the odds, we have a program to execute. Limited time, limited resources, limited talent, myriad things to do and it must all come right on the day. Perfection is demanded. Teachers are harried, children are hustled, helpers scurry, suppliers are summoned – there is an air of frantic anticipation and the tension can be cut with a knife.  Schedules overlap, tempers snap, rehearsals are called and cancelled or rearranged, props are lost and found, children are temporarily mislaid (they are on a quick trip to the loo and get ambushed by friends on the return trip), voices are raised in cross-chatter as instructions are called and countermanded, and everywhere there is bustle.  Harness that energy and you could light up a city!

Two days to go before dress rehearsal.  We go through the instructions, the sequence, the words, the actions, the song, one more time.  Will they get it right?  One child is out of sync.  One child stops to ask, ‘Miss, I haven’t got my costume.’ Another, ‘Miss, one girl is absent.  Should we keep her place?’ Another, ‘Miss, I need the bathroom.’ I take a deep breath and let it out. The costume problem is sorted out.  The absent girl is relegated to the back row if at all she turns up for dress rehearsal and the children are given a collective bathroom break. And we start again.  Now, there are two children out of sync.  We stop and practice the actions once again.  Everybody is together.  So, we sing.  They lose their note and do not notice!  (It’s good to remember that ‘sing’ is used more figuratively than literally – our children’s voices are not music to the ears).  I make them revise the tonic sol fa and we start again.  One, two, three, go! We get through the song with more enthusiasm than finesse.  Isn’t that what children are all about? I hope so.  Because, by now I’m limp, wrung out, brain dead.  Never mind.  There’s always tomorrow.  And then the event will be over before you know it.  If I survive till then.

Will everything go right on the day? 

I couldn’t say for sure.  What I do know is that it will take a miracle!

My childhood was a song!

And it’s a recurring melody.  I have just hummed my way through Que Sera Sera, Little Sir Echo, Mockingbird Hill, Look to the Rainbow, Somewhere and Wooden Heart. (Once again, thank you YouTube - I am young again).   It’s amazing how the lyrics come back almost word perfect.  And it’s also amazing how new lyrics suggest themselves too.  Here’s a sample (I’ve called it A Teacher’s Song!):

Sit down, be quiet;

Oh, please don’t be so rude!

Sit down, be quiet;

Be nice as li’l girls should!

Sit down, be quiet;

You must obey the rule.
Though life is no party

School could be so cool!

Children are lovely,

That’s what I was told.

Children are playful,

So happy to behold.

Little girls are sugar

And everything that’s nice.

Ribbons and pretty frocks

And life that’s full of spice.

On the day I came to school

This is what I found:

Lots and lots of little girls

Running all around.

“Miss, she took my bottle”

“Miss, she pulled my hair”

Little voices shouting loud

Here and there, and there!

Little girls as good as gold

Is truly quite a myth.

They can throw real tantrums

And make me have a fit.

And though I sometimes roll my eyes,

And shout as loud can be

I wouldn’t really change a thing -

School’s pretty fine to me!

Repeat: Sit down, be quiet....

Do you think they might listen?

A Tangled Thread…

TANGLED!

My blogs these days seem much of a piece – all about school.  But that is where my head is and where I am urging my heart to follow.

Each day brings something new, a high, a low and an in-between.  A child who will smile, a child who will frown, a child who will be more stubborn than a mule.  The mule I would ignore. The child stays with me even after the school day is done.  What could I / should I have done differently? Why was that one child so determined to challenge authority?  And why do I have to keep laying down the law?  A neat, tidy, orderly and silent classroom seems so at odds with lively, squirming children!!  But how lovely is the noiseless room, with minds engaged and thoughts abloom (even if they are all about getting even with the teacher!).

Singing class seems to be more about letting off steam than learning the tonic solfa and oh how they love their action songs. Even the ‘big’ girls!! When they’re happy, they really show it from the clapping, to the stomping and the screaming.  Next week, I’m planning on teaching them homemade percussion: if noise appeals then why not go the whole way? (A variation on ‘if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em’!)  I remember the fun we had, as children, tapping teaspoons, shaking little boxes filled with rice or hard grain and blowing through combs covered with tissue paper.  If you can think up any more impromptu ‘instruments’, do let me know.  (We also tapped teaspoons on the rims of glasses of water filled to different levels – when you got it right, you created the sweetest sound.  But we are too many, and glass and water can be so accident prone.)

And then there’s the crochet which is more ‘is not’ than ‘is’.  Teaching 60 plus students to simultaneously put hook to wool and turn out identical perfect stitches is the stuff of movies and dreams.  The variations on a stitch that I encounter are more the stuff of nightmares.  Perseverance is a virtue that both teacher and student need and I’m resolute, persistent, unrelenting, firm about reaching the goal!!

But there are the diversions.  One student managed to get a factory wound perfect ball of wool into an even more perfect tangle.  ‘Miss,’ she wailed, ‘HELP!’  I brought the yarn home and spent the best part of an hour following one end till it met the other and I had, once more, a well wound ball of yarn.  It was a happy shade of yellow and while hands were busy, my mind dwelt on the weeks gone by. Sitting and untangling the thread was somehow peaceful and yes, amusing!  And the student’s joyful whoop, ‘THANK YOU” was more than enough reward. 

Though I am still bemused by where I find myself, I have stopped wondering about the path, no matter how tangled. Like Theseus, I hold one end of the thread in my hands, but I know that the other end is firmly in God’s clasp.  And when the ends meet, I will be a perfectly wound ‘yarn’.  (Pun intended!) 

P.S. I finally managed to ‘draw’ using Paint.  My work of art? TANGLED!!

Dear Diary – I

Life has turned into such a day by day, blow by blow event that it is difficult to focus on a topic or theme.  Remember the kaleidoscope – that amazing, crazy combination of colours and shapes? You fell in love with the pattern and then with a slight turn or shake of the cylinder an even more stunning pattern fell into place, never to be repeated. What fun!

Well, my seconds, days and hours have turned just as colourful, chaotic, comical, curious and compelling. 

Three days a week, I endeavour to develop the musical skills of little girls ranging in age from 8 to 13, in batches of 65 or thereabouts.  None of them come from English speaking backgrounds; none of them have ever been exposed to western music not even to the ‘Disney’ tunes that have enthralled generations.  I was told to expect the unexpected.  Little did I realise.

At every lesson, taken in the library, with keyboard primed, eager little feet came trooping in and 65 little bodies in all shapes and sizes settled cross-legged on the floor (no sweeping and swabbing required here – uniformed derrieres did the job beautifully!) and 65 voices wished me good day. I hope the smile on my lips belied the trepidation in my heart.  Did any of them know how to sing? A unified chorus of 65 yeses greeted me.  Did any of them play a musical instrument?  Again a full throated roar of ‘yes’.  Turns out they didn’t understand the question.  They had just stopped at ‘play’ and all children know how to play, right?  Well once that was sorted out, I got them learning how to fill their lungs with air and how to stretch their little lips into the required shape for sounding words.  So far so good.  The giggles and good natured pushing and shoving augured well.

Then came calamity.  Asked to ‘la la la’ to the tonic sol-fa, they just could not hit the notes.  Flat would be an understatement.  Without this basic skill, how would they ever sing?  And how would they ever learn the difference between shouting in unison and singing in unison? 

As I teeter between amusement and frustration, I remember one of my favourite musicals ‘Anna and the King of Siam’ – now if I could only reprise Deborah Kerr’s role (without Yul Bryner, of course – pity), life would be a song – literally!