In the history of music, there've been a lot of artists who team up with other artists, and when you hear their names together, you think "Huh?"
Bing Crosby and David Bowie, Allison Krauss and Robert Plant, M. Ward and Zooey Deschanel, Placido Domingo and John Denver...some were good and some were just weird.
But I was perusing YouTube today, and guess who I found? World-renowned violinist Hilary Hahn performing with the wonderful indie-alternative-folk singer Josh Ritter!
Maybe you know who Hahn is, but not Ritter. He is an independent musician that I first heard of a few years ago on Minnesota Public Radio. He writes great tunes to go with deep, poetic lyrics. His gravelly voice reminds me of Bob Dylan, but unlike Dylan, he looks like he's having fun while performing.
Hahn started out as a violin prodigy, studying from the age of 3, going to the Curtis Institute at 10, and signing onto her first recording contract when she was 16.
She's probably one of the greatest American violinists today.
I wondered how the two ever met, and found out that Hahn and Ritter's families were old friends. The two musicians decided to tour together in 2008.
I listen to music spanning over many genres, and honestly, I don't think I've ever heard such a great collaboration between two totally different musicians. They just bumped Allison Krauss and Robert Plant to #2 on my list.
If you watch the video of Hahn and Ritter playing his tune "Bone of Song" in Switzerland, there was something in the beginning that I found interesting. The duo came out for their encore, and Hahn basically told the audience, "This isn't classical music, but I'm going to play it, and if you don't like it you can leave." Then in another video from later in the evening, Ritter thanks the audience for sticking around to hear his brand of folk music, when they usually expect Mozart or Bach. And I'm sure he liked the change of venues from a rowdy bar in New York to a concert hall in Europe.
If you look and listen closely, there are lots of ways classical music has shaken its reputation of being an institution of snobby, stuffy old birds who want to hear their classical greatest hits: Conductors are actually talking to/with the audience about repetoire, more contemporary and avant-garde works are being performed, and there's a seemingly endless stream of young talent who draw inspiration and technique from many different wells. But there's still not a lot of sanctioned mixing between the classical and the popular worlds. I say, why not? The last chamber music concert I was at, the young conducter and violin soloist not only was a captivating performer well-schooled in Bach and Sebelius, but also toured with bands as a jazz violinist. I didn't even know jazz violin existed!
I think that through the collaboration with musicians of different styles, it gives the artists and listeners a chance to learn. Ritter himself has said he gained a new appreciation for Schubert after working with Hahn, and he loved strumming along to Paganini with her, even though he wasn't a classically trained guitarist. Hahn loved that she was challenged to improvise her solos, and just do something totally different for her regular audience.
I think it'd be cool to see more collaborations like these in the music world. It would make up for the Crosby/Bowie, Domingo/Denver pairings, at least.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
On the journey
Photo: a present to yourself. Sift through all the photos of you from the past year. Choose one that best captures you; either who you are, or who you strive to be. Find the shot of you that is worth a thousand words. Share.
This photo was taken in August by Pastor Randy. Our group was walking back from the village of Mahove to our bus for a return trip to Tungamalenga. We were walking because Mahove is very remote, up a mountain, several kilometers off the dirt road. Every other time I've been there, I'd taken a Land Rover and had to replace a tire that was punctured along the way.
We had been to Mahove to talk about bringing water to this sprawling village. The women and children walk about 3 miles one way to get water for their village. Men don't fetch water. There is a wonderful, inspiring Bibi (grandmother) in the village who has persevered in her quest to bring water to this village. She visits the parish office (miles away) and continues to ask for help in bringing water to the village. We have heard this request for several years, and finally the parish placed this need as the number one priority on their list of partnership projects.
So in the village, we had met this time with local government officials. It's important to talk through the details with all the stakeholders in a project like this. Sometimes we'd like to just go in and make the project happen, but we've learned to listen first and follow the pace of our African partners.
I like a couple things about this photo. I have a newly framed enlargement of it on my wall at home, and every time I look at it I'm compelled to walk toward it. Is it because of the path? or to get a closer look? It draws me in, every time.
I like it because it puts me in perspective. Yes, it's a picture of me walking alongside Pastor Naftal, on the path from Mahove toward Makifu. I like that we are holding hands and are deep in conversation. But we are so small on this path in the vast landscape. What we're doing is important, but it's just part of something so much larger than we ourselves.
As I go from 2010 into 2011, I want to remember to enjoy the journey and all that it brings--the sweat, the effort, the long walks, the conversation, the purpose, the holding hands, the vast landscape, and being a small piece of something much larger than myself.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
The Drum and the Spider
In October 2010, I brought a drum back from Tanzania. On our last day in Tungamalenga, Mama Neema, an evangelist who leads worship with exuberant singing and a powerful faith, handed me a plastic bag of groundnuts, and this drum. It was beautifully and simply carved, and the goat skin was nailed in by acacia tree needles. I love the patterns burnt in around the drum, and how it stands crooked, tilting its head.
Mama Neema doesn't speak English, and even through interpreters we hadn't said anything to each other besides hello, because we didn't have time to see her as often as other trips. I was very surprised and touched that she gave me a gift like that--and since I'm a musician it was very fitting.
Airport security doesn't like stories like these. We had to eat as many groundnuts as we could and then give them away to another friend while in Iringa, the city on the way to the airport. Riding on the bus I was very protective of my drum; it sat in a bag on the overhead shelf, and I glanced at it every few minutes.
When we got to the airport in Dar es Salaam, I looked inside it and found a spider.
Not an icky-furry-foreign spider--I don't think. It looked just like a daddy-long-legs. But my mom and I got a little nervous, wondering if this would slow us down getting past customs. We tried shaking the spider out, but it didn't work.
So, we get on the plane with no problem--the flight attendant actually wanted to play the drum--and I'm sitting there for 8 hours wondering if the altitude changes will split the skin of the drum, whether that spider is dangerous...and when can I get a shower? Things like that. Then we got to Amsterdam.
Waiting for our plane I thought about playing the drum and setting out a hat, but this crowd didn't look like they wanted to hear music, let alone throw money in a hat for it. We were all tired. Then when we started walking to get on the plane, an African woman asked, "Where did you get that drum?" We started chatting. Then an old man gave the drum a beat as we walked, smiling.
Leaving Amsterdam, I put my backpack and the drum through the security scanner, this young Dutch security officer says quite cheerfully, "Is this your drum?" "Yes." "Play something," he said. Airport security just scares me in general. Rapidly I thought, "If I don't play will they still let me on the plane? Is this a test?" I gave it a couple nervous beats. "Very nice," the officer said, still smiling. "You will drive everyone on the plane crazy!"
And I was free to go.
I never thought this gift from Mama Neema would lead me to have so many little interactions with people, literally from all over the globe, people who usually are just going through the grind of travel, trying to get to the next plane, screening the next passenger. It was a welcome sign of friendliness in this stressful place.
We landed in Detroit, and did security again, lugging all our baggage in this big cart. This security guy looked like we shouldn't mess with him, and he ordered us to go see another officer on the opposite end of the room, so that's what we did. "Oh this is cool!" He said, then he saw the spider. We asked what we could do about it. He shrugged. "Take it outside, shake it, when it comes out stomp on it."
And we were free to go.
We took the drum home and sprayed some deet in it. I played it, displayed it, and my drummer friends were jealous. Months later we assumed since nothing was crawling out of it that the spiders had died from the deet ambush. Then just this fall--a whole year later!--I see this funny stuff around the drum that looks like saw dust, about two inches of it. And little black larvae underneath it. Yuck yuck yuck. Out comes the vacuum, and out goes the drum, into the garage in a garbage bag. It's been sitting there all this winter, and we hope that the bugs have frozen to death. Has anybody else had something like this happen? You bring back the coolest conch shell and it's filled with sea urchins? Or a hat from Russia that gave you head lice?
I'm lucky that I have a biologist friend who loves this type of stuff and will take a look at it for me--I just want my drum back without having to worry about termites!
Mama Neema doesn't speak English, and even through interpreters we hadn't said anything to each other besides hello, because we didn't have time to see her as often as other trips. I was very surprised and touched that she gave me a gift like that--and since I'm a musician it was very fitting.
Airport security doesn't like stories like these. We had to eat as many groundnuts as we could and then give them away to another friend while in Iringa, the city on the way to the airport. Riding on the bus I was very protective of my drum; it sat in a bag on the overhead shelf, and I glanced at it every few minutes.
When we got to the airport in Dar es Salaam, I looked inside it and found a spider.
Not an icky-furry-foreign spider--I don't think. It looked just like a daddy-long-legs. But my mom and I got a little nervous, wondering if this would slow us down getting past customs. We tried shaking the spider out, but it didn't work.
So, we get on the plane with no problem--the flight attendant actually wanted to play the drum--and I'm sitting there for 8 hours wondering if the altitude changes will split the skin of the drum, whether that spider is dangerous...and when can I get a shower? Things like that. Then we got to Amsterdam.
Waiting for our plane I thought about playing the drum and setting out a hat, but this crowd didn't look like they wanted to hear music, let alone throw money in a hat for it. We were all tired. Then when we started walking to get on the plane, an African woman asked, "Where did you get that drum?" We started chatting. Then an old man gave the drum a beat as we walked, smiling.
Leaving Amsterdam, I put my backpack and the drum through the security scanner, this young Dutch security officer says quite cheerfully, "Is this your drum?" "Yes." "Play something," he said. Airport security just scares me in general. Rapidly I thought, "If I don't play will they still let me on the plane? Is this a test?" I gave it a couple nervous beats. "Very nice," the officer said, still smiling. "You will drive everyone on the plane crazy!"
And I was free to go.
I never thought this gift from Mama Neema would lead me to have so many little interactions with people, literally from all over the globe, people who usually are just going through the grind of travel, trying to get to the next plane, screening the next passenger. It was a welcome sign of friendliness in this stressful place.
We landed in Detroit, and did security again, lugging all our baggage in this big cart. This security guy looked like we shouldn't mess with him, and he ordered us to go see another officer on the opposite end of the room, so that's what we did. "Oh this is cool!" He said, then he saw the spider. We asked what we could do about it. He shrugged. "Take it outside, shake it, when it comes out stomp on it."
And we were free to go.
We took the drum home and sprayed some deet in it. I played it, displayed it, and my drummer friends were jealous. Months later we assumed since nothing was crawling out of it that the spiders had died from the deet ambush. Then just this fall--a whole year later!--I see this funny stuff around the drum that looks like saw dust, about two inches of it. And little black larvae underneath it. Yuck yuck yuck. Out comes the vacuum, and out goes the drum, into the garage in a garbage bag. It's been sitting there all this winter, and we hope that the bugs have frozen to death. Has anybody else had something like this happen? You bring back the coolest conch shell and it's filled with sea urchins? Or a hat from Russia that gave you head lice?
I'm lucky that I have a biologist friend who loves this type of stuff and will take a look at it for me--I just want my drum back without having to worry about termites!
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Away
Travel: How did you travel in 2010? How and/or where would you like to travel next year?
Last March I spent some fun days in Albuquerque at a conference but hardly saw the city beyond the conference center. Opportunity missed.
In August I spent three weeks in Tanzania, two of them with a group and the last week more on my own. Opportunity treasured.
In September, Bruce and I spent a few days driving down one side of the Mississippi River and up the other, exploring little towns, shops and wineries in Wisconsin and Minnesota. Opportunity for which we scrimped and saved.
Throughout the year there were short trips to visit family in New Ulm, Iowa, several parts of Wisconsin. Opportunities for which we are grateful.
Coming up next? 2011 looks to be a little more mundane on the travel front, sticking to car trips to visit family and to take kids to and from college. Even the annual music conference I attend is closer to home, in what feels like a ho-hum city, Milwaukee. I like Milwaukee fine, and I go for the conference and not the sightseeing, but it doesn't have quite the "ooh and ahh" factor of 2012's destination: New. York. City!!
But we're making one trip a priority for 2011: an anniversary trip for somewhere. Today Bruce and I are celebrating our 25th wedding anniversary and we had been planning to take a big trip somewhere together. But he's in a new job and has no vacation time to take until May. So we're planning to take a week or a little less at the end of May or early June, depending on my schedule.
Where? We're considering Charleston, unless it's too hot in June; Redwood National Forest; Vienna. Talk about diverse options!?! Time to do some research and thinking!
Monday, December 20, 2010
Beyond Avoidance: What should you have done this year but didn’t because you were too scared, worried, unsure, busy or otherwise deterred from doing? (Bonus: Will you do it?)
I've been struggling with these reverb10 writing prompts. Seemed like a fun idea when I started, but either I'm overwhelmed by my schedule, or too tired to write, or the prompts feel too personal to put on a blog, of all places.
But this one's easy.
What I should have done this year was practice organ.
For a couple years, my church has been working toward the goal of building a pipe organ for our sanctuary, to replace the old electronic organ that is held together by twine and spit, has all kinds of surprises each week for the organist and congregation. In this last year, the forces in the benevolent universe that govern such things began to align, and I knew we were going to get our organ someday soon.
And as choir accompanist, I know that when we have a decent instrument, our choir director will be selecting more anthems accompanied by organ. I better get prepared to play.
I've had some little training on the organ, and I can do it if I have to, given plenty of preparation time and some help deciding on which stops to use.
But I feel so gangly and uncoordinated at the organ. There's the feet to get moving, there's no damper pedal to help connect big reaches from chord to chord, there's the difference in touch at the keyboard, there's the issue of reading three staves or rearranging the voicing between the hands. All stuff that makes me feel awkward.
And then there's the big, big sound that comes out.
I don't have the experience yet to judge how the sound I hear at the console sounds to the rest of the room. Sometimes I'm too loud and don't know it, often too soft.
So all of this makes organ playing tops on my avoidance list. I suppose you could call it living in denial, knowing that the organ was coming and knowing I would occasionally be called on to play it and still not preparing. I had chances. I thought about taking lessons again a few years ago. And last spring, after playing organ for some choir anthem, the director encouraged me to play any little thing over the summer--some Bach for a random Sunday prelude, or some quiet stuff for offertory--just to increase my comfort level. But I didn't do it.
I have a couple pieces I always come back to when I do play organ. Bach, Franck. I like them well enough and can get them up to competent if not great.
So will I practice organ in 2011?
Probably. Maybe. If I have to. We'll see.
I've been struggling with these reverb10 writing prompts. Seemed like a fun idea when I started, but either I'm overwhelmed by my schedule, or too tired to write, or the prompts feel too personal to put on a blog, of all places.
But this one's easy.
What I should have done this year was practice organ.
For a couple years, my church has been working toward the goal of building a pipe organ for our sanctuary, to replace the old electronic organ that is held together by twine and spit, has all kinds of surprises each week for the organist and congregation. In this last year, the forces in the benevolent universe that govern such things began to align, and I knew we were going to get our organ someday soon.
And as choir accompanist, I know that when we have a decent instrument, our choir director will be selecting more anthems accompanied by organ. I better get prepared to play.
I've had some little training on the organ, and I can do it if I have to, given plenty of preparation time and some help deciding on which stops to use.
But I feel so gangly and uncoordinated at the organ. There's the feet to get moving, there's no damper pedal to help connect big reaches from chord to chord, there's the difference in touch at the keyboard, there's the issue of reading three staves or rearranging the voicing between the hands. All stuff that makes me feel awkward.
And then there's the big, big sound that comes out.
I don't have the experience yet to judge how the sound I hear at the console sounds to the rest of the room. Sometimes I'm too loud and don't know it, often too soft.
So all of this makes organ playing tops on my avoidance list. I suppose you could call it living in denial, knowing that the organ was coming and knowing I would occasionally be called on to play it and still not preparing. I had chances. I thought about taking lessons again a few years ago. And last spring, after playing organ for some choir anthem, the director encouraged me to play any little thing over the summer--some Bach for a random Sunday prelude, or some quiet stuff for offertory--just to increase my comfort level. But I didn't do it.
I have a couple pieces I always come back to when I do play organ. Bach, Franck. I like them well enough and can get them up to competent if not great.
So will I practice organ in 2011?
Probably. Maybe. If I have to. We'll see.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Unsubscribe & Delete
11 Things: What are 11 things your life doesn’t need in 2011? How will you go about eliminating them? How will getting rid of these 11 things change your life?
I spend a lot of time on the computer, for work, for volunteer tasks, for pleasure. But lately I spend the first several minutes of email sessions just deleting, deleting all kinds of stuff I no longer want to read. So I've started to become intentional about getting rid of the clutter. Here are eleven things I'm going banish from my in box:
1. Daily horoscopes. How did I get on that list?
2. Vegetarian recipes of the day. They're really not all that appetizing, sorry.
3. Discussion lists for homeschoolers with young families looking for playdates. My youngest is 14.
4. Dell Deals of the week. I just bought a computer, don't need another one just yet.
5. Facebook notifications. When I want to play on Facebook, I'll go there. Why read it twice?
6. College parent and alumni newsletters.
7. Screen It weekly newsletter. I rarely go to movies anymore, and I put more weight on what I hear from my friends. If I want to read reviews, I can go to the website.
8. Weekly sale updates from an online auction site that I used once, for one specific item not available anywhere else.
9. Two of the three daily devotions I receive. I tried them, they're all okay, but one stands out in a way the others do not.
10. Non profit organization emails for groups that I no longer have an interest in contributing to. Priorities change.
11. Follow up emails from a marketing seminar I attended. It was good, but now I have that information, thanks.
How will deleting and unsubscribing change my life in 2011? I hope I'll be more efficient with email and spend less time on the computer, feel less overwhelmed with information that's no longer relevant to my life, and have more time and attention to spend at the piano and with the people I love.
I spend a lot of time on the computer, for work, for volunteer tasks, for pleasure. But lately I spend the first several minutes of email sessions just deleting, deleting all kinds of stuff I no longer want to read. So I've started to become intentional about getting rid of the clutter. Here are eleven things I'm going banish from my in box:
1. Daily horoscopes. How did I get on that list?
2. Vegetarian recipes of the day. They're really not all that appetizing, sorry.
3. Discussion lists for homeschoolers with young families looking for playdates. My youngest is 14.
4. Dell Deals of the week. I just bought a computer, don't need another one just yet.
5. Facebook notifications. When I want to play on Facebook, I'll go there. Why read it twice?
6. College parent and alumni newsletters.
7. Screen It weekly newsletter. I rarely go to movies anymore, and I put more weight on what I hear from my friends. If I want to read reviews, I can go to the website.
8. Weekly sale updates from an online auction site that I used once, for one specific item not available anywhere else.
9. Two of the three daily devotions I receive. I tried them, they're all okay, but one stands out in a way the others do not.
10. Non profit organization emails for groups that I no longer have an interest in contributing to. Priorities change.
11. Follow up emails from a marketing seminar I attended. It was good, but now I have that information, thanks.
How will deleting and unsubscribing change my life in 2011? I hope I'll be more efficient with email and spend less time on the computer, feel less overwhelmed with information that's no longer relevant to my life, and have more time and attention to spend at the piano and with the people I love.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Community
Day 7: Community. Where have you discovered community, online or otherwise, in 2010? What community would you like to join, create or more deeply connect with in 2011?
[Yes, Day 7. I've obviously skipped a few. Who knows, I might come back to some of them but for now I'm happy responding to the prompts that speak to me.]
My patchwork life has several communities--the family, my closest friends, my studio families, my church music community, my Tanzania connected communities (here with people who support the Tanzanian mission, and there, the people in Tanzania), and then my music colleague community.
One of my most profound experiences of community in 2010 happened this fall during the visit of our guests from Tanzania. Last January, as a way to raise funds for the travel expenses, we had auctioned off the chance to share a meal with our guests. Members of our partnership committee offered to host a dinner in their homes with our guests and with four to eight other guests. The auction was really successful.
Two of our guests stayed in my home for ten days in October, and on eight of those ten evenings, we hosted dinner guests. Some nights as many as twelve or fourteen people gathered, some nights it was just eight or ten. There were families with children, couples, teens, people who had been to Tanzania and others who had not. Pastors, lay people, church members and people from outside the faith community.
Those dinners were one of my favorite things we did with the guests. My own children asked why we don't do this more often, wasn't it fun to have all these different people and all this interesting conversation. [Why don't we do this more often? Maybe because I teach during dinner time?]
It was fascinating to watch the interactions. It was like watching something holy as people made connections, asked questions, shared perspectives, reached across cultures to try to understand what we have in common and where we differ.
One night each guest took turns entertaining a baby and toddler, another night we discussed dating, engagement and marriage customs, another night one guest grabbed a guitar while my daughter played the accordion and we all sang.
Every guest told me how much they appreciated the opportunity to connect on a personal level with our Tanzanian friends.
The second place I've been exploring community this year is in my music organization. As part of my preparation for taking on the presidency of the group next summer, I've visited many of the local associations of music teachers around the state.
Local associations like the ones I've been visiting are the grassroots of this organization, the places where isolated, independent music teachers like me can connect with other professionals, create programs for their students, share information, continue their professional growth, and use their skills to give back to other colleagues.
When I was a brand new piano teacher years ago, the internet wasn't around and I couldn't just google all my questions. How do I write a studio policy? How much can I charge? How do I teach a kid to read music when they've got such a good ear that they pick up all the easy songs the first time they hear them? When do you push and when do you let an overcommitted student coast for awhile?
I lived in New Ulm when I started teaching and I was blessed to have an active group of about 15 teachers who met monthly; I could ask them anything. They shared their experiences, referred students to me, helped me in countless ways.
When I moved away from New Ulm to the metro area, I didn't join a local group. I had babies, I told myself they were my priority and that I could get along without the professional support. A couple years ago I finally joined a local group again and have realized how much I missed that comraderie.
So now I've been visiting other groups, getting to know people, giving them a chance to get to know me a little, and oh, how interesting it has been. Each group has its own flavor. Some have been around a long time, others are relatively new. Some wear name tags, in others, the members all seem to know each other already. Some have recitals and many programs for their students, others are primarily organized for the fellowship of the members.
One thing that's weird is how often I am among the youngest people in the room.
I think of how important that group was to me when I was starting out -- where are the young teachers today finding their support and their community? Are they all online?
I would like to explore ways to bridge the gaps in 2011.
In the community that supports our church's partnership with the people in Tanzania, how can we make connections that extend and continue the conversations we had with our guests?
In my music teachers association, what do we need to create so that people who don't come to meetings can find the same support, information, connections, development opportunities and community that I remember being so vital to me at that stage of my life? My gut feeling is that it will be an online community that could bridge the gaps between old and young, metro and rural, college faculty and independent teachers. I'd love to see a blog with excellent writers taking turns, creating compelling content that would in turn elicit reader response that would eventually create community.
[Yes, Day 7. I've obviously skipped a few. Who knows, I might come back to some of them but for now I'm happy responding to the prompts that speak to me.]
My patchwork life has several communities--the family, my closest friends, my studio families, my church music community, my Tanzania connected communities (here with people who support the Tanzanian mission, and there, the people in Tanzania), and then my music colleague community.
One of my most profound experiences of community in 2010 happened this fall during the visit of our guests from Tanzania. Last January, as a way to raise funds for the travel expenses, we had auctioned off the chance to share a meal with our guests. Members of our partnership committee offered to host a dinner in their homes with our guests and with four to eight other guests. The auction was really successful.
Two of our guests stayed in my home for ten days in October, and on eight of those ten evenings, we hosted dinner guests. Some nights as many as twelve or fourteen people gathered, some nights it was just eight or ten. There were families with children, couples, teens, people who had been to Tanzania and others who had not. Pastors, lay people, church members and people from outside the faith community.
Those dinners were one of my favorite things we did with the guests. My own children asked why we don't do this more often, wasn't it fun to have all these different people and all this interesting conversation. [Why don't we do this more often? Maybe because I teach during dinner time?]
It was fascinating to watch the interactions. It was like watching something holy as people made connections, asked questions, shared perspectives, reached across cultures to try to understand what we have in common and where we differ.
One night each guest took turns entertaining a baby and toddler, another night we discussed dating, engagement and marriage customs, another night one guest grabbed a guitar while my daughter played the accordion and we all sang.
Every guest told me how much they appreciated the opportunity to connect on a personal level with our Tanzanian friends.
The second place I've been exploring community this year is in my music organization. As part of my preparation for taking on the presidency of the group next summer, I've visited many of the local associations of music teachers around the state.
Local associations like the ones I've been visiting are the grassroots of this organization, the places where isolated, independent music teachers like me can connect with other professionals, create programs for their students, share information, continue their professional growth, and use their skills to give back to other colleagues.
When I was a brand new piano teacher years ago, the internet wasn't around and I couldn't just google all my questions. How do I write a studio policy? How much can I charge? How do I teach a kid to read music when they've got such a good ear that they pick up all the easy songs the first time they hear them? When do you push and when do you let an overcommitted student coast for awhile?
I lived in New Ulm when I started teaching and I was blessed to have an active group of about 15 teachers who met monthly; I could ask them anything. They shared their experiences, referred students to me, helped me in countless ways.
When I moved away from New Ulm to the metro area, I didn't join a local group. I had babies, I told myself they were my priority and that I could get along without the professional support. A couple years ago I finally joined a local group again and have realized how much I missed that comraderie.
So now I've been visiting other groups, getting to know people, giving them a chance to get to know me a little, and oh, how interesting it has been. Each group has its own flavor. Some have been around a long time, others are relatively new. Some wear name tags, in others, the members all seem to know each other already. Some have recitals and many programs for their students, others are primarily organized for the fellowship of the members.
One thing that's weird is how often I am among the youngest people in the room.
I think of how important that group was to me when I was starting out -- where are the young teachers today finding their support and their community? Are they all online?
I would like to explore ways to bridge the gaps in 2011.
In the community that supports our church's partnership with the people in Tanzania, how can we make connections that extend and continue the conversations we had with our guests?
In my music teachers association, what do we need to create so that people who don't come to meetings can find the same support, information, connections, development opportunities and community that I remember being so vital to me at that stage of my life? My gut feeling is that it will be an online community that could bridge the gaps between old and young, metro and rural, college faculty and independent teachers. I'd love to see a blog with excellent writers taking turns, creating compelling content that would in turn elicit reader response that would eventually create community.
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