An art degree would have been useful

I suspect that throughout the course of this blog, especially in the first few weeks and months, the most common topic of my posts will be "Things they didn't teach me in methods classes."  Today's specific point of interest: Decorating Your Classroom.

Decorating Your Classroom is certainly not something that is covered in any of the various methods classes I had to take in college.  There was no Music Ed 357: Decorating Your Classroom.  There was no talk of borders and color combinations, themes and clipart and designs, printing pictures vs. buying posters vs. attacking a giant sheet of blue paper with Sharpies and Crayola markers while praying to the gods of art, design, and Scholastic Inc.  Heck, other than being told I should have a list of positively-worded classroom rules placed squarely in the front of the room with glaringly large letters that no student would ever dare to ignore (sarcasm, anyone?), I received little to no guidance on the art of Decorating Your Classroom.

Please don't mistake my frustration for bitterness.  In the grand scheme of things, this is not the biggest of deals or the most mountainous of molehills.  But in case I wasn't already terrified enough at the prospect of having my own room with my own kids trying to follow my own rules while learning from my own lessons, I also find myself worrying entirely too much about the aesthetic appeal of this room that each child in the school will see for precisely 30 minutes every week.  Also, because this is just how my mind works, I feel like I can't move forward with planning my first lessons until the room looks just the way I want.

Unfortunately, and as is often the case, I have very little idea of what it is I want.

I do know this, though:  I want students to walk into the music room (which is in a new location this year) and be wide-eyed and breathless.  I want them to get excited just by looking around and feel how this will be a magical, wonderful place completely separate from the rigors of High Expectations and Closing the Achievement Gap (which are likely far more important to us adults than to any of the children we are so valiantly working for).  And I want to feel proud of this room that I suspect will feel something like a second home to me for a few hours every day.  After all, if I have to spend so much time in it, I'd better surround myself with things I like to see.

I also know that this will not be perfect the first time 'round.  My strengths lie in music and teaching, not interior design, and I can't expect my room to look quite as exciting and glorious as that of the veteran 1st grade teacher who, over the years, has collected and created more colorful posters and bulletin board ideas than there are paintings in the Louvre.  I should probably also cut myself some slack considering I saw my classroom for the first time precisely two weeks before the beginning of school and had very little in the way of posters and next to nothing in the way of other decorations.

This is one of those situations where I'm fully aware of how silly it sounds to worry so much about such a superficial thing.  Will my students have any less fun because the walls are a little more bare than in their regular classrooms?  Not at all.  In fact if I plan it right, those kids will be too busy singing and listening and dancing and learning to look around and contemplate the decor.  But still, I want to have pride in my space and I keep thinking that if I can make my room look like a music room should, then my teaching will follow suit.

From the beginning

Sometimes in music we see the words "da capo" written above the notes, typically toward the end of a large section or a whole piece as an indication to go back "from the head" or "from the beginning" of the music.  When first reading a piece of music it can sometimes come as a surprise where upon nearing the final double bar line we suddenly notice that no, the music is not over, that we must go back to the beginning and play it again.  And of course, the second time through is never exactly like the first; that da capo gives us a wonderful opportunity for variation, change, more expression, more music.  Another shot at getting it right.  Another chance to make it perfect.

As a recent college graduate four days away from the first day of school of my first big teaching gig, I feel I have just reached a da capo of sorts.  After spending years studying music, practicing instruments, playing in ensembles, learning techniques of pedagogy and classroom management - in short, being a student - I am finally at the point where I can begin to realize my lifelong dream of being a school music teacher. I am excited beyond words, but the fear and uncertainty of my first truly significant teaching position is daunting and, at times, suffocating.  I feel like I am going back to the beginning of this thing called "music education" to start again but with the roles reversed: as the students' guide instead of the guided student.

That is one reason I chose this title for this blog.  It is also appropriately fitting because this first job is as a general music teacher for K4 through 2nd grades, and it really doesn't get more "from the beginning" than that.  There is an exceptional amount of responsibility in being a child's first introduction to formal music education, and I can only hope I live up to and beyond the expectations of my colleagues, my students, my family, my friends, and myself.