The Day You Find Out Why

It is 8:30 AM, and a few minutes ago I drove to work. On every street there were signs of the resumption of school. Buses picked up sleepy students, cars blocked intersections and traffic moved slowly. One doesn't have to drive in back-to-school traffic to know it's that time of year. Stores are filled with sales, and customers are picking over all the necessary items, so that backpacks can be filled with supplies that facilitate both learning and self-image. And other parts of the community that are closely related to the school calendar, like the church where I direct the music, are also gearing up for a new year.

Among my friends on "Facebook" are several music educators. Their recent posts have reflected their excitement over the new year. I have heard from many band directors whose days are being spent in the 100 degree heat preparing for football season. Without exception they comment on the hard work of their students, and their enjoyment of their job. The choral directors I know have been posting their similar feelings and enthusiasm. They have spent the summer hard at work; choosing new music, taking classes, attending workshops. Several have even resorted to actual conversation on the phone or in person, discussing a new idea or asking for input regarding their chorus.

Teaching is a pre-eminent calling, and that is true of school teachers as well as those who teach in other settings, like houses of worship, scouts, community athletics or public libraries. Music educators have eschewed the temporary thrill of performing in order to pass performance skills and understanding along to rooms full of eager aspirants. Their rewards are not financial, and they seldom receive the applause that bouys the spirits of other musicians. Their reward comes in the growing daily recognition of beauty in the minds of their students. It comes slowly, but is overwhelming when it finally arrives.


I knew a music teacher in a small private school whose headmaster came into the room where she was teaching, leading a small family. The mother and father were looking for a school for their first-born, a preschooler with newly discovered learning disabilities. Their most difficult decision so far involved placing their precious child in the hands of another adult. The headmaster didn't reveal any of these details to the teacher. He simply asked her to include the child in the class. So she placed the tiny child in her lap and continued singing with the children. As the child's face slowly lit, and sound started to emerge from the tiny voice, the mother cried and the father hugged her. Later, the headmaster told the teacher that the family had heard of her music teaching, and it had drawn them to the school. They thought communication and learning were beyond the reach of their child, and they were desperate to find it. In that music class their hopes were realized.


A few weeks ago our church hosted a reunion of the students of a retired choral teacher. He taught in several schools over a long career, and all his former students were invited to come for a day of singing, laughing and remembering. Among the attendees were several professional musicians, as well as a host of people from other professions, who attested to the difference made in their lives by music and this music educator. The current principal of the last school in the teacher's career was in the group, as well as local clergy, business people and other leaders. And there was a prominent opera singer and voice teacher, who attributed his early musical accomplishment and aspiration to this teacher. It was a grand celebration of the calling of this music educator.


Last Sunday a couple of local college students came into the choir room as we prepared for the service, and we quickly placed a robe on them and gave them a seat in the choir. One of them was on the verge of dropping out of high school when his school's choral teacher discovered his talent. Through her nurturing he became a self-described "choral geek," soaking up every singing experience he can find, and majoring in music education in college. That teacher's intervention changed a life that will change many other lives. The student was formerly a scholarship singer at our church, and is now a paid singer in another church. He had the day off from that job, and chose to come visit and sing with us rather than sleeping late.


Readers of this blog will all have similar stories of music educators they know. These teachers change lives by infusing them with beauty, and with the ability to create beauty. They teach because they can't stop teaching. And in a world where education statistics and test scores are most often used as weapons in a war of blame, music educators make schools better and students purposeful.


I have two college-aged daughters who are majoring in education, which makes me incredibly proud. As I helped one of them move back to school last week, I noticed a saying she had placed above her desk. It said: "The two greatest days in your life are the day you are born, and the day you find out why." As school is starting, I am grateful for the music educators I know, and for the day they realized their high calling.