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Dear Students,
I come to you now as I have always done and hope I always will- from a point of honesty, with a desire to see you define success by your own measures, armed with the means to accomplish your goals, and with a hope that through the work we share we each continue to search for and find our truest selves.

The intentions I have held as we have danced have been consistent in aspirations yet varied in emphasis and methodology. My life circumstances and experiences have shaped my views, my beliefs, and my skills. As such, they also have a hand in shaping yours. We are entwined in an evolving dialogue that transcends speech and whose depth of meaning is not as ephemeral as a physical gesture may suggest.

 As a girl, I was raised in a traditional, conservative home with conventional ideas yet founded on a certain amount of risk. I am the American-born child of English immigrants. My father knew as a teen that he wanted to leave England (as comedian Eddie Izzard describes as “where the history comes from” for either Australia or the US. Fortunately for him, my mother was game and with two small children- my brother and sister, they came to the States, Michigan in fact, where the only people they knew were my mother’s brother and his family. A few years later, I (surprisingly) entered the picture.

I am a dancer. It was clear to my parents right from the beginning and fortunately for me, they embraced the arts (my mother was a painter) and not only supported my passion, they nurtured it. Unlike many people that happen upon an activity that grows into a passion- I have always identified myself first as a dancer. In fact it hasn’t just been how I identify myself, it is my identity- one that I recognized even as a very, very young child.

But another powerful aspect of my identity is that of a motherless daughter. My mother died (emphysema and severe asthma) as I entered my teens and in spite of having a remarkable father, her absence has unsurprisingly had a profound impact on my life. There is no silver lining in such a tragedy but I do choose to look at how I was, and continue to be, forced to see things openly. I don’t know that I wouldn’t have done this anyway, but I have forged relationships with strong women that both compliment and contrast my mother in a variety of ways. I consider them to be my “tribe” that have taken me in- perhaps in ways they may not have done if I had had a mother on which to rely. These relationships have fostered and informed other relationships and have carried me, to some extent, to where I am today- as a dancer, choreographer, educator, dance writer, wife, mother, friend, daughter, sister, and so on- in roles that blend to varying depths on varying days.

Although relevant, it may not be immediately obvious how my current relationship with my mother plays a part in my daily practice of these roles including that of a dance educator.

I have a deep and resounding respect for what has come before.

See, the thing about having a relationship with a person who has died is that while the living may not view the relationship as stunted, it is speculative at best. It is comforting to think that we knew the deceased so well we could predict their reactions, responses, and overall positions on any number of situations and in truth, we can’t.

We can’t actually predict with any great accuracy how their own experiences and views would have continued to evolve and therefore how they would interact with us in our current state. What’s more, we must depend on ourselves to determine the positions and responses upon which we measure success and shape our individual and collective futures.

One’s relationship to the traditions of dance or education aren’t dissimilar. Traditions are full of reactions, responses, and overall positions of dead people. Dead people created the heritage we carry on and invented- or at best interpreted- the history we regard. We need to maintain perspective and take the best of what history has to offer in order to inform current and future processes. I see that I now take the best of what I remember of my mother, apply it to my own life, and offer it to my children for their own purposes. In teaching, I do the same for my dancers.

Through-out college, I treated the traditions of dance training as sacred rituals and any deviation from the progression of things was simply an affront to all that loved dance most. Namely, me. My estimation of commitment and worthiness in claiming the title of “dancer”,  came with paying respects to the gatekeepers of dance, its histories and those that paved the way for us.

I have since altered my path regarding this but I still value all that I gained from those experiences. My mind was ignited and my body absorbed every ounce of information. I had the luxury of a rich wardrobe of movement styles to try on and tailor. But the best of all of this was the opportunity- as a learner- to be understood, valued, and no longer feel isolated by how I interpreted the world, as I had done in my own K-12 experiences. Here was a whole community of people like me (kinesthetic, visual, linguistic), and they were my connection to a bigger world which interfaced with the ‘real’ world but also enjoyed its own body of knowledge to be explored.

This is the type of experience that has shaped the community of my classroom- where there is a place for everyone and we strive to learn from each other’s strengths, weaknesses, and points of view.  Ironically, I find this to be in direct contrast to the traditions of dance education- how people are actually taught- where the individual’s needs are not necessarily addressed beyond the physical or technical. And I suppose this is where, at times within my teaching, I have been conflicted in how best to prepare students for the current state of dance or life much less the future on which I can only speculate. I want to support each student individually, and as nuanced as possible, yet at the end of the day- sometimes the work (the dancing) just needs to be done- done well- and done without comment. Within my own dance experiences- in technical training and as a professional performer- this is a very real part of life. Choreographers don’t always want interpretations or impressions, they want chasse, pas de bouree, pirouette.

Early in my teaching I devoutly maintained the educational and historical traditions with little thought to how or why these practices may support the actual needs of students beyond audition demands. Diversifying their movement experience was one thing, their actual learning experience was something else. For the environments in which I was teaching, this approach to training was what was desired and I was good at it. Being good at teaching came later; actually it is still coming. And now I am keen on guiding learning through movement that reflects the breadth of dance-making in an effort to nurture an enhanced sense of self.

In some ways, I have moved away training bodies to dance technically and artistically in order to use movement to train bodies to communicate clearly and move artfully. Now I find myself needing a new label- perhaps “arts inclusion” or “connected learning” in order to cultivate the movement that exists in all bodies in order to facilitate greater, and more meaningful life and learning experiences. 

I use dance to explore other topics but more importantly, I use dance to explore self-knowledge. As I have been working in a special education room and co-teaching with a brilliant educator, we have come to think that some of our students navigate their lives actively using their ways of knowing- one boy springs to mind immediately, as he is a mover first and foremost and relates to the world through this almost solely. Other students need us to help them develop a way of knowing. And we have decided that is our job. We simply do it through presenting a myriad of experiences, ways to connect learning across disciplines, and so on. In terms of the dancers I produce- I want them to forge new paths. The field of dance, as a performance form, desperately needs new pathways and points of view. It also needs audiences.

I now give myself permission to see things in new ways- cutting the apron strings while still holding on to all the pieces.

For a long time, in my personal life, I tried the “be” the daughter I thought my mother would have wanted and much of it was external and based on taste, not principle. I bought things that I thought she would have liked, indulged in things I know she enjoyed, in a sense- I attempted to take on some of her identity. It isn’t that I don’t do some of those things now, but I recognize that this approach to a relationship is limited and superficial. In many ways, it was a strategy to keep her spirit alive and honestly, it was kind of forced. And it still left me with deep questions that I really struggled with, such as what would she think of me now? She couldn’t have predicted what kind of experiences I would encounter so how can I assume to know what she would expect of me rather than accept of me. That was a freeing realization for me personally that also directly translates to my teaching.

I liken the superficial approach to keeping my mother’s spirit alive to the “giving” of a technique class rather than the “teaching” of all things dance, including technique. But now that I teach in the K-12 system, a job I never would have predicated for myself even- where the whole dance experience and all of my own personal experiences benefit the whole child- I think of the strengths and weaknesses of dance as a discipline and an art form. I carefully craft the experiences I offer students based on what a comprehensive dance education should include and how it contributes to a meaningful life, which may or may not include a future in dance.

Now I seek to reinvent- to cheat, borrow and steal from the masters to serve as gateways to my own ideas (or those of students). I am no longer pure about the purpose and function of dance. I no longer view  “dancers” as the most important product of my teaching. I find myself speculating about the future of my students just as I might speculate how the masters (or my mother) would respond to current life. I have decided my job, and my life, is to prepare as best I can for anything and everything and to share everything I know; including the way that I have come to know it.

Now I take an active role in choosing, and building, my legacy.

I think my mother’s best attribute was knowing her kids as individuals and loving us accordingly.  While she had impeccable taste and oodles of class, she was aware in ways most people aren’t and parented accordingly. Although there are things of hers that I own, there are still other items of hers that have been stolen. I don’t know that I wouldn’t do this anyway, but what I value most is the time I spent with her talking and the depth of our conversations; the way she guided my understanding of the world and the ways she encouraged me to live it in my own way, founded in the principles my family shared including a certain amount of respect for risk. I learned to appreciate material things while they last but to put real stock in other pursuits of happiness like art, conversation, personal reflection, and the evolution of ideas.

Dance has reinforced this for me; teaching has compounded it.  There is a language, a protocol, and a history but with deep understanding comes freedom to push new boundaries and apply the understanding in new ways and to new situations that even the masters couldn’t have predicted.

In many respects, this results in ‘embodied knowledge’. I tend to talk about this with my students as living dance principles outside a dance situation. Things like, keeping your weight over the balls of your feet as you walk and while you wait. Sensing the distal and the core as you walk, reach for something, etc. Essentially, I encourage students to bring a mindfulness to their movement at all times. I explain that these are things that help one identify a dancer walking down the street, not the turn out of the dancer’s legs. Then, when the dancer enters the studio, they are prepared for the real work and everything improves efficiently. The discipline of the art form demands that in those moments of real work, nothing else matters. I like to think of it as the “power of now”. In this method of working, the principles stop being what we do and become who we are. And it requires dedication, and practice- much like spirituality.

This is the legacy I want to offer my children- one founded on self-awareness, acceptance, and adaptability. A view of life that is successful in all spheres by valuing ideas, conversations, people, and context but also evaluating these ideas, conversations, and contexts to determine relevance or steps to progression.  As for people, acceptance goes much further than expectation but in the end we are all parts of a story. Let’s start where we are and go from there.

Currently, I have given up trying to keep my mother’s spirit alive by forced measures and have been comforted in how her spirit actually lives in the true quality moments of life such as how my kids may phrase a question, spend hours drawing and coloring, flash cheeky expressions, and listen when others speak. Her presence is felt in how I parent my son and daughter according to their own strengths, weakness, and personalities, as well as how I gauge what may work best for my students. Her principles are acknowledged in how my husband and I communicate deeply and promote meaningful experiences for our kids to share but also to discuss and reflect upon again and again. Just as I attempt to do for you, my students.

Dance has been the constant in my life. Dance has provided me with an outlet, a purpose, a path, and a point of view. It has also taught me to think and speak critically, constructively, and compassionately. It has taught me how to learn and how to teach.

By dancing together, I hope you feel as though you’ve been recognized, heard, accepted, and pushed. I part from you now as I have always done and hope I always will- from a point of honesty, with a desire to see you define success by your own measures, armed with the means to accomplish your goals, and with a hope that through the work we share we each continue to search for and find our truest selves.

Yours in Movement,
Heather

A good school nourishes individuals exposed to the principles on which the world turns, nurtures in the narrowed areas to which these individuals are naturally drawn and from which they connect to areas they are not; supported by people that have a magic mix of passion for ever-deepening experiences and the ability to effectively interact and communicate with other learners.

A good school uses the tensions that create a balanced education to thoughtfully craft learning experiences for all stakeholders.

The introductory post for Cycle 5 included the following tensions that in a delicate way create a balance: subject-matter knowledge/habits of worthy living, common culture/individual interest, and gate-keeping/deliberation. In my own work there is yet another tension that exists- that of discipline-specific arts study/arts integration.

“Good” teaching within artistic disciplines bridges concepts from those that appear within the art form to those that exist in “other” disciplines. I consider this connected learning. As discipline-specific educators, it is our job to expose our art-form for all that it does and is. An example would be explaining momentum when teaching how to effectively and efficiently turn, jump, and/or change direction. In order to dance well, I need to know momentum, not simply know about it or be able to discuss Newton’s laws. Momentum becomes part of my embodied knowledge.

In an arts-integrated approach, the intention of fusing these arts and non-arts concepts serves as the catalyst for informational dialogue. We could enter the class knowing we are using turns or jumps or direction change to demonstrate examples of momentum and therefore teach content standards for each subject area- dance and science. The experience is valuable, but limited in its potential for sustained application (the continued practice of dance training) and enduring understanding.

The differences outlined here are fine but significant.

We need to find the balance of these two approaches and meet in the middle where lessons of dance and science are simultaneously, or maybe sequentially, implicit and explicit.

When guided by a true dance educator, the opportunities are rich with potential as students view content from multiple views. Depending on the leaders of this kind of experience, the students become citizens that could, as Howard Gardner describes in his book The Disciplined Mind, “come into existence if students learn to understand the world as it has been portrayed by those who have studied it carefully and lived in it most thoughtfully; if they become familiar with the range- the summits, the valleys, the straight and meandering paths- of what other humans have achieved; and if they learn to always monitor their own lives in terms of human possibilities, including ones that have not been anticipated before.” These very students could leave that experience understanding the world in a new way in addition to understanding momentum and dance technique.

But the consequence of emphasizing integrated learning over connected, discipline-specific learning can be the elimination of arts positions, even if the arts continue to be “taught” by non-artists with support from artists as proposed by the Lansing School District in their recent answer to devastating funding shortages. Even a quality arts integrated experience cannot supplant quality arts training and the embodiment of knowledge that is garnered in such an experience.

When the politics of education sets educators, particularly arts educators against each other, arts integration becomes a dirty word. While some arts disciplines, such as music and visual art, are well established in the canon of K-12 subject areas, dance is grossly under-represented. Arts integration can aid these subject areas, but the value of Music and Visual Art are pretty readily acknowledged without it. Meanwhile, Dance is still trying to get a foot in the door and therefore requires it. Talk about of being “damned if you do and damned if you don’t”.

Personally, I have used dance “integrated” experiences as an opportunity to introduce and promote more sequential dance training with the aspiration of dance becoming as established as the other art forms. What I do, really, is teach my discipline broadly, and in a way that connects to life experiences and other academic areas. With my experiences in K-12 education, I am able to adeptly relate dance processes and concepts to those of grade level content areas. But I don’t feel that all dancers could do this in a K-12 setting, even with help of classroom teachers. K-12 dance education is a specialized profession and a focused area of study in and of itself. (Go here for a break-down of teaching roles in arts education. )

I would like to think that schools refer to arts classes as specials because of this specialized focus and not because of the deviation from the traditional classroom as if the arts are pure novelty and not much more.

Regardless of this debate though, a good school is populated with people that think like artists- people that constantly ask “what if?” and “so what?”

There is an attitude of risk-taking, an appreciation or at least acceptance of the “grey” area, and recognition that life is a series of adjustments and progress of thought put into action.

A good school is a process, not a product, and it never stops moving. Picasso said, “Critics, mathematicians, scientists and busybodies want to classify everything, marking the boundaries and limits… In art, there is room for all possibilities.”

Can’t we treat education the same way?

Throughout my teaching career, I have been responsible for developing curriculum and methods for instruction, assessment, and performance experiences for students of all ages and relationships to dance. Each has featured objectives and outcomes, scope and sequence, and alignment vertically and horizontally with feeder programs. Yet the work itself continues to evolve and change. It isn’t that I am necessarily teaching different “stuff”- steps, concepts, experiences, truths. Instead, my intentions for teaching these things have shifted to reflect the students, the purpose of their study, their needs as people and as artists, and ultimately to reflect the power of my discipline through authentic experiences representing the “real” field of dance.

In other words, I have moved from training dancers with rigorous physical and intellectual exercise to guiding people to think, express, empathize, communicate and demonstrate their knowledge through the great equalizer of kinesthetic knowledge- the universal language of dance. My students may not be as technically proficient as other dancers their age but their potential to create and “be” is significant. The sophistication with which they “make” and “talk” about dance, ideas, and art is impressive. Their knowledge goes beyond labeling and imitating. They think and they do.

Identifying the layers: dance v. Dance, me v. we

In terms of movement vocabulary, there is a natural progression of ideas that directly correlate to a progression of movement. In general, things start small and get bigger, complex, and elaborate; not unlike study of any discipline. As a performing art, the usual assumption is that the product, “the dance”, is the objective and the outcome; that the aesthetic artifact is the intention of the study and the demonstration of skill is the proven test. However, in that scenario, the process is discounted and therefore the product cheapened as well.

In the dance world beyond recreational and/or competition studios, dance really becomes a method of investigation. Everything from technique to composition, history to performance, becomes a process of research. Dance IS the liberal art- covering the broadest spectrum from the science of movement and brain function, to the details of communication and narrative, to contexts of ideas historically, aesthetically, socially, musically and expressively. The arts, including dance, serve as a catalog of our human history told through multiple perspectives and not just that of the victors, as is often the case in the history books.

In light of this, I have started looking at the big picture for the bigger picture- searching for the ideas that relate to the real world, real experiences, and real material that will be included in standardized tests. I have started considering near everything as a story- not one to be judged but evaluated for its degree of truth, meaning, and potential. Not only has this method added more interest for me as I teach children (or adults) to dance and about dance, it has led to dynamic class experiences, and memorable choreography projects and performances.

My curriculum is a product of my experiences and my understanding of myself. By nurturing my sense of being- that of an artist, a reader, a writer, a learner and how I have arrived at this place- through my experiences presented first within dance but later as an extension of it into many different fields and investigations, I am able to work at a human level inviting kids to try on new things to see how they fit and adjust accordingly. Likewise, I am able to treat them as other people and not lesser beings. I ask for their cooperation and their help rather than demanding.

The process of creating, presenting, and responding: Me, We, Me

In my middle school dance classes, we have recently been using portfolios to track technical and participation trends for each student, their technical/composition/performance feedback, and their observations (developing their “eye”). These portfolios include their notes as well as the notes I model for them regarding various aspects of our coursework.

Regardless of which aspect of dance we are exploring, we have been following a Create, Present/Perform, and Respond process. I have been using two methods to guide our conversations and their self-assessments each designed to gauge our progress and our thinking in ways that support our self-concepts, our sense of responsibility to the group, and our ability to evaluate, well, anything. For technical work, we have created a rubric for the segments of class and the purpose of those segments. For their compositional/observation exercises, we have created prompts: I notice, I wonder, and I might.

Most recently, we began composition assignments by analyzing movement they were given to dance. Students then re-organized the movement based on their analysis. Next, we watched works by master choreographers to see and possibly “borrow” their solutions to similar problems we were experiencing. We are now reorganizing movement again based on these new findings and will soon perform and respond formally, although this has been happening rather informally every step of the way. Finally, we will link this work to social contexts. While we have been examining the master works based on their choreographic principles, each of the pieces also offers important social commentary and adds a very intense layer to the question that started this investigation: “Does Dance Have Limits?” By the end, I hope we have identified how and why our collective work reflects limitations (and/or freedoms) imposed upon us, our community, our culture, our nation, etc…..and maybe we will edit the work in light of our collective stance.

So how does this influence change at the building level? we v. We

I am a teacher in search of a community.

When entering a new teaching environment, I start looking for like-minds and I invest in those relationships. So far the most compatible colleague in this building is a special education teacher for grades K-4 who is progressive in her philosophy, approach, methods, and expectations. We started collaborating during a block of time dedicated to arts integration and the result has been some wonderfully productive co-teaching and furthered partnership. We share some logistical similarities- sharing students with classroom teachers, having to be specific and attentive to the blocks of time we have, and we teach multiple age groups. Seeing her approach to layered concepts for multiple ages has inspired and informed how I organize concepts in my own classes, including the middle school dance courses. Although I suspect we both have been teaching for some time for mastery over skill, over the course of the year, we have re-evaluated our objectives and outcomes to develop depth and degree of comprehension.

The single most impactful element to our work has been looking at broad ideas to reinforce through all subject areas. Topics such as progression, accumulation, symmetry, and now cycles. We have examined them in her classroom, in my classroom, and in our shared time. Students that are deemed our most challenged are now doing some of the best thinking in the building.

Next, I anticipate that when we have this joint process firmly poised in descriptive terms, we will share as best practice and as a suggested path of direction for other partnerships within our building and/or district.

The arts tend to be a venue for either setting controversy or exploring it. The former is done by the creation of provocative work, perhaps through provocative means, and intended to either make a statement or respond to one. The latter has been, historically, a process that has provided a safe haven for individuals identifying with controversy in a way that enables them to inform and establish their own identity. For our students, the arts have the power to, either gingerly or forcefully, do both.

Schools have systematically represented cultural norms. The formats of schools tend to reflect principles, beliefs, and traditions of the geographical group. Ideally, schools also provide a safe haven for individuals to inform and establish their identity in a time and place separate from their home lives. For our students, however, schools can become complicated webs of messages further complicated by the emotional response of their families  to what is being presented. The same can go for the emotional response of the teachers presenting the information and their acknowledgement, use, or refusal of hidden curriculum.

Controversy, to my mind, is an extension of fear and difference. It is also an issue of perception in dealing with world view and relating behaviors. Ultimately, it prompts difficult discussions about delicate matters because they are close to the heart. In this way, the arts can provide a powerful and neutral way to engage in dialogue and, hopefully, a safe place for students to develop their own opinions based on their identities and the influences that have helped shape them.

I am talking about comparing the subjective to the objective and providing a foundation for separating, yet still holding, facts and opinions. In this sense, the word objective is not relating to goal, directly, but about distance. Having the point of view that removes the self in a way to observe an idea, a way of life, or a work of art in a neutral and constructive way.

I immediately think of Bill T. Jones, a choreographer who I deeply respect and one that pushes boundaries- personally, professionally, individually, and socially. His work, Still/Here sparked outrage as Jones dared to present terminal disease as the topic of a main-stage production. The dance prompted critic Arlene Croce to write a scathing and controversial review for a dance she refused to see. A new term, “victim art”, was coined and the place for this dance in the history books was marked.

When I saw the PBS documentary based on this dance in college, it changed my life. I wept for my mother that had passed away of severe asthma and emphysema when I was 13 and I wondered how movement may have relieved some of her stress, physical and emotional, as she was coping with her illness. And although I wasn’t convinced I had the courage to dance for Bill T. Jones, I vowed to take steps toward that goal and at the very least, use dance as a vehicle for deeper expression and communication than I had previously done as a performer and a choreographer.

A way to start this balanced dialogue within a dance setting would be to invite the students to create a movement phrase based on selected criteria. Once the students have struggled in the crafting of the phrase, they often find themselves in love with their own ideas, movement, and performance- feeling passionate and protective of what they have done. If we immediately start to introduce broad editing concepts, feelings get in the way, our path to our best work is masked, and processes shut down. Yet, if we look at small, digestible pieces, by taking two or three steps and re-imagining them, things get easier. If we provide the structure for the critical conversation such as, “I noticed your use of level changes,” rather than “I didn’t like when you dropped to the floor”, information gets easier to take-in and to take- on. Students are then able to separate, yet still hold, their feelings about their work but make sophisticated adjustments because of what they see and feel physically rather than what they feel emotionally.

When I speak to students about this difference between subjective and objective, I pretend to pet a small bird in the cup of my hand. I explain that close up, this is my pet, and I describe how I feel about it based on what I do for it- feeding, watering, stroking, caring, loving. Then I hold my hand at a distance and explain that from further away I am able to better see and describe the animal before the pet- the color, the texture, the size, the age. I am able to describe it factually, while I hold in my mind my feelings about what makes it special.

This is the approach I feel teachers need to take with controversial topics and how we should guide our students through the processes of making up their own minds, influenced but independent of the adults in their lives.

Should these topics be taught? No. They should be navigated with honesty, balance, facts, and respect. They should serve as a gateway to more important learning and discussion- personal stance, tolerance, objectivity, and self-awareness.

As I mentioned in my last post, I am attending classes at Michigan State University in order to renew my teaching certificate this June. As part of that process, I am enrolled in a course titled “Curriculum in its Social Context” and am expected to blog about topics relating to education through various lenses. Each of my responses to the course work will be posted on this site and will be labeled with the introduction of “Cycle #” and the topic. Naturally, my personal lens is dance and my writing will include my perspective of how the course topics relate to the field of dance education.

On the “About” page you can read about my background and experiences. Yet I would like to take this opportunity to refresh my sense of professional (and personal) identity for 2013.

All of the facts remain the same:

• I was raised in Michigan by English parents that supported the arts and bent over backwards to support my passion for dance,
• I received a BFA in Dance and went on to dance professionally in big cities where I later realized I “lived” the dancer’s life for the benefit of my future students,
• I attended grad school with the intent to teach in higher education and stumbled, a couple times, into K-12 education and realized a passion that had been dormant all these years.
• I have taught dance to all ages and all levels of experience from novice to professional, creative movement to academia, for fun and for the future.
• I believe the arts have the power to define the quality of our lives.

And yet, I waffle back and forth trying to understand where I fit best within dance education. I do know it is in of the classroom and more and more I am realizing it is not leading the class from the front but guiding the class from many locations, destinations, and angles. The question sometimes lies in who I am there with. I currently teach dance in a K-8 visual and performing arts academy and love it. However, in all honesty, sometimes it feels stifling. No- let me clarify. Sometimes the system feels stifling in spite of teaching great kids, within a great building, with great administration and some outstanding colleagues. I continually find myself- whether it has when teaching in academia, public education, or non-profit environments- wondering which are the best or most appropriate questions to ask myself and my students.

In many instances, the answers have come in the relationships- person to person, person to subject, community to content, and so on. And I suppose this is true in my personal life, too. Ultimately, it is about the people, right, and what the people can do to make life meaningful.

So here I am- in love with the philosophy of education and the power of mentoring. Trying to wrap my mind (and as a dancer, my body) around stimulating questions. Enjoying the journey.

Here’s to 2013.

We are now into the second week of school and it already feels like a very different year. Here are the realities of my life at the beginning of this academic year:

1. We have a full staff!

And we started with them on the first day of school!! Sadly, this was not the case last year as due to lay-offs, the bumping process, and so on it was October before the shifting started to subside.

2. Having completed a year with the K-8 population, I now have a much better grasp of what to expect and how to manage my classes.

Oh, and I have had more than 5 days to prep before school started! Last year, I had to throw out a year’s worth of sketched plans for 9-12 grades days before I was about to implement them.

What did I learn?

Wet paper towels solve most anything. Bathroom needs are contagious in the kindergarten and first grade crowds. Giving kids beans for lunch is never a good idea. Certain grades smell really bad. Putting a young person in a room with a slippery floor and mirrors on two walls is asking for trouble. Add 29 other bodies and you have human bowling leagues. Threatening to hold a 1o year old’s hand until they can remember to make the right choices is much more effective than a drill sargeant’s booming voice. Middle schoolers hate to be literally sent back to kindergarten when hand-holding doesn’t work. And when kids tell you they love you, they usually mean it.

3. The tipping point has tipped.

Whenever there is change there are people who are happy, uncomfortable, or both. This year we are all starting with clear expectations, a better understanding of the work involved, and how to go about doing it. The kids that were resistant have either graduated, moved, or caved. As a result, I am really having a good time teaching and the kids are responding.

4. The personal stresses are different.

After a year of agonizing when my son should start school and where he shall go (he is a November birthday and we were debating several schools and programs) , we’ve worked it all out. In fact, our current situation came much as a surprise as we had hoped for it in the spring, ruled it out by mid-summer, planned as though it was never a consideration, and then it did! The best part is that he couldn’t be happier! And our daughter is also loving her “school” experience. At 17 months, she comes home at the end of the day as if her personality has been amplified. We are so thankful to have our kids feeling challenged, nurtured, and supported with excellent teachers.

I am back in school!  This time, I am completing two courses this semester and one next in order to renew my teaching certificate before June.

I am ridiculously busy but I am also loving it.