Grad School Week 5: Andragogy

Here we are mid-way through my fifth week of my first semester.  Hard to believe I'm a third of the way through the first semester, but there it is.

There is lots to tell:  about how I should not be blogging, about how I should be starting my adult method reviews instead, how I'm learning a lot, how different it is the second time around, how my basic life rhythm consists of class/rehearsals/teaching, practicing, homework, sleeping/eating, and boyfriend... about how I'm re-learning the definitions of "management" and "pacing."  It's been an interesting transition.

This week was the first week that I didn't feel like crying at odd times for a variety of reasons... also something to do with the crazy stress I was under earlier this month, as well as time lost to various circumstances.  For those of you who wondered how the issue with the landlord turned out:  we compromised.  And then it made me sick to my stomach for about a week when I realized that we are part of the gentrification problem in St. Louis.  We blew our chance to blow the whistle and we only protected ourselves.  We did not help the larger situation in this town and I'm sorry to admit it.  Alas, I cannot be involved in a multi-year litigation issue, not while I'm in school.  So we negotiated a one-week renovation period in late October with definite start and end dates at no cost to us where we basically get an almost-completely new apartment for the remainder of our lease (6 months) for free.  Funny how things start looking your way when you mention the words "lawyer" and "what you're trying to do is illegal".  Jacob has since decided that if I can't be persuaded to head to the Ukraine or the Middle East to negotiate peace talks, I'm definitely buying his next car for him.  "Because," as he says, "you'd go in there with five dollars and walk out with a brand new vehicle."

It's true.  But I'm telling you, it took about a year off my life.

By far the biggest change (as foretold by Dr. Budds weeks before the semester started) has been my transition back to being a student.  But not in the way I thought... not at all.  For one thing, while I was in undergrad, I might as well have been Superman.  I had everything timed down to the minute.  I could get an incredible amount of stuff done in 10 minutes.  And I basically lived that way all the time.  It was crazy.  Seriously:  it was crazy.  And I am by no means old, but this pianist isn't the same spring chicken she used to be.  I still get a lot done, but I definitely have to plan more.  There is so much less room to fly by the seat of my pants, partly because I just can't, but also partly because the work load is so much more intense.  This past week (Wednesday to Wednesday) was the first time since the start of the semester that I was able to pace my homework and practicing without putting in multiple 12-14 hour days in a row.  Those weeks where I lost time due to one thing or another were valuable lessons in that regard... painful, but valuable.

The other thing I have realized in my transition back to student-hood is that I am actually a student.  Seems silly to say so, but it's true.  In my pedagogy class, we are currently studying how to teach adult beginning piano students (and adults in general).  Holy cow, I could not be a more perfect example! For the past four years I have not only been self-regulating, but regulating others as I teach them the intricacies of my instrument.  And not only am I realizing that once again am I a student, but that there is a serious process that comes with that role.  Sometimes that means being ok with where my pieces are (i.e. not perfect or performance ready or even where I want them to be) when it's time to head to lesson.  Sometimes I can't get my rotation sections to work the way I want them to (despite having put in hours of practice trying to get the coordination to come together) much less have the rest of the piece up to my personal standards of playability.  Sometimes this process means remembering that I'm here to enjoy my work, rather than be driven by it.  Sometimes it means I need to relax (period... in life...) so I can play with less tension.  Sometimes it means I need to go to bed or get up earlier so I can do a little yoga to help loosen me up... or do the theory assignment I put off til the last minute.  Always it means that this thing, this motor skill I'm attempting to develop at a level I've never attempted before... it is hard and unforgiving.  Because motor skills do not come easily and the music lays our shortcomings bare.  Always it means I need to let my art be what it is, where it is, in connection to where I'm at with it in the process... and not be so hard on myself while doing so.  Always it means giving grace to myself in the same way I would my own students. 

And you know, I've got some really great people (who care about me a ton!) helping me along the way.  I seriously couldn't be more thankful for them.  Not only that, I have a lot of really great support through my student families, as well as the choirs I accompany for.  I posted earlier this week on Facebook that I have the best student families in the universe:  they ask how things are going and they genuinely want to know.  One mom last week packed 2-3 meals worth of amazing produce and gluten-free food for me after her son's lesson, telling me she knows how hard it is to eat while in school.  I seriously could have cried.  I am so certainly loved.

So all in all, it's good.  It's one of the hardest things I've ever tried to do, but it's good.

Andragogy:  the study of how to teach adults... to be students again (ellipsis added)     

Grad School Week 3

Some of you have been asking how school is going now that I'm finishing up my third week.  Has it been three weeks already?  Holy cow.

School is fine, honestly.  I go to class, I do my work, I teach my kids, I go to rehearsals.  Bam.  Of course there's the group dynamic of my music theory class that continues to grow more and more interesting by the day, but that's really nothing in the overall scheme of things.  It would be great if these were all I really had to worry about.  But the rest of my life just cannot seem to calm down.

Last weekend my sister got married, which was so much fun.  Of course I was the Maid of Honor, the Officiant, and (via recording) the Pianist as well.  There was something that felt very strangely familiar about the whole thing -- almost like when we were little girls playing wedding.  I think this had to do with the fact that I had about three different jobs throughout the course of the days and weeks leading up to and in fact the day of.  Officiant AND Maid of Honor.  It's a role I'll never have again.  It was a fun day though and I'm very happy for them.

AND JUST AS THAT EXCITEMENT BEGAN TO DIE DOWN (and I mistakenly thought that I could move on with my life as normal)...

We then received notice from our landlords that we have to move out by Monday.  As in, they left a note on our door Wednesday night that they want to do renovations and are trying to make us leave (quickly and illegally) within five days AND/OR fast-talk us into a "sweet deal" so that they don't end up in a legal entanglement.  We are currently in the midst of negotiations with them (which is super stressful), there's so much back and forth bullsh*t for lack of a better word, and tomorrow we meet with them to discuss some more stuff some more.  I am already mega tired of discussing it.  Because the truth is, none of this was ever written into the lease.  I plan to go in tomorrow and repeat the same words over and over:  "You legally can't make us do anything.  It's not in the lease.  We are open to terms, but you can't make us do anything... it's not in the lease."  I literally am ready for the broken record.  And it only took 24 hours to get here.  You can imagine what we've been through in the course of a single day.

But I do want to just take a second to mention that I am so very thankful for all the people in my life who love and care about me who also happen to be lawyers... very good lawyers at that.  We aren't at that point just yet, but I've received some great advice, and who's to say what exactly will happen if we just do nothing?  I honestly can't tell.  All I can say is, if they try anything without our consent, maybe I'll be able to pay for grad school.

Long story short, the chances of us moving in an extremely short time frame could be high, if the terms are right.  Whether to a different apartment, or moving out temporarily while they renovate is yet to be determined, but the amount of stress that this has created (and which will continue) for the next few weeks is... well, ridiculous.  I have to consciously try not to think about it.

Today I went and practiced my Schumann briefly at one point and it gave me a tremendous sense of comfort because it is so beautiful and it's not anything anyone (specifically my landlords) can take away from me.  It is mine, not by lease, nor by rent, and isn't subject to the rules and regulations of a contract.  It is mine.  At what point is it that grad school becomes a major source of comfort?  I can't tell.  But that can be one of the amazing benefits of art and actually reminds me of childhood a lot, as I remember that I spent a lot of time playing the piano as a major source of emotional release.  The reasons we become artists... do we choose it or does it choose us?  Who can say?

Anyway, if you're reading this and it's Friday, say a prayer for us.  We meet with our landlords today.  Jacob keeps telling me: "they can't make you do anything."  And it's true.  But it's so much easier to fight for someone else than to fight for yourself.

All that to say, school is great... :)

My first five years...

The following is something I wrote for an upcoming pedagogy assignment where I reviewed the things that I've learned or the things that have changed in my teaching after my first five years of teaching piano.  It's not a perfect article, by any means, and of course is subject to revision, but even in its imperfect state, I thought it was worth sharing...

       Although many things are similar to when I first started teaching, some things have definitely changed since then. Technically, I started teaching in 2008, when I had my first student Emily under Dr. Knerr’s supervision during my Pedagogy I class at the University of Missouri. That was crazy! I had no idea what I was doing back then! I was learning right there alongside Emily, trying to act like I knew what I was doing the whole time. Ultimately she quit lessons after the fall semester of the following year. It was so sad! I tried to keep her going, but she hit that wall—the one we’re all too familiar with—when a student realizes they can play by ear and decides to stop reading.  That is definitely one thing I have learned:  not all students make it past the first year or two.
       I think one of the most valuable things I’ve taken away from my early experiences though, is that life happens in a given week. I always knew this growing up, but when you first become a teacher, you’re inspired and taught to push your students as much as humanly possible, which is great and true in theory, but not entirely realistic. It’s important that they aren’t ever bored in their lessons or in their assignments, but it’s also important to balance expectations with reality. At some point (I don’t remember when), I started including the student in the conversation about what was realistic for them in terms of their weekly assignments. I ask them directly, towards the end of their lesson when we’re reviewing their assignment sheet, “Is this enough to work on? Do you want something else? Is this too much? Are you going to be bored? You know, the last thing I want is for you to be bored.” I also often tell them, “You know if you get bored, you can always work ahead,” or conversely, if I know they have a stressful week ahead and are normally hard workers, I might say, “You know, if this is too much, you can always drop ____ (specific assignment) and we’ll wait on that til next week. But see if you can work on it anyway.” Sometimes I tell them, "You know, if you don't make it through all your assignments, it's not like I'm going to show up and burst into flames."  I think I learned this after over-assigning and watching my students deal with the stress and then thinking they’ve failed at life: that mentality is just not ok. Life is too short to continue to do something you think you’re constantly failing at, and in my estimation, it’s the teacher who can make or break it for a student by either recognizing the reality a student is living in or ignoring it and steamrolling ahead. I prefer the former over the latter, mostly because I would rather see a student succeed and love their instrument than quit.
       After my first year of teaching in St. Louis, I also realized that it was really important that students like what they’re working on. In my pedagogy classes and in my instruction as a student teacher, I think I had been taught that it doesn’t matter so much in the beginning if a kid likes what they are playing, because they’re going to like the fact that they can play, which I think is definitely true. Kids are smart though, and at some point they realize that they’ll be able to play things they like sooner or later and that playing in general gives them pleasure, but playing things they like gives them an even greater pleasure. Again, I think there’s a balance here. There are some things I insist my students work on because it’s good for them, because it’s great literature that would be stupid to leave out of their education, or because there are specific things I want them to work on. I often tell them why I want them working on a specific piece, or ask them to figure out if they were the teacher, why I gave them a certain piece and what skills I want them to take away. That being said, there is also a huge benefit to giving a student something they like. Not only does it hook them into continued playing, but the pieces they like are often the pieces that push them into the next level, or can relieve a plateau in learning.
       Another thing I’ve taken away from my first five years in teaching piano is to clarify the “practice/not practice mind games” that often occur between teacher and students. When the lesson starts, I ask my students how their week went (both at school and at the piano) and they often give me the expected answer: “good.” But then we get into lesson and I can tell that practice did not in fact go so “good.” Rather than play mind games with them though, I will often ask them directly, “How did you practice this? Tell me what you did.” When I first started doing this, they would often look up at me sheepishly, as if preparing for Catholic confession, at which point I would say, “I’m not here to make you feel guilty. You can confess to me, and I hope you do, but I’m here to help you be a better pianist, not to make you feel bad for lack of practicing.” I would then proceed to hear what they have to say and ask them what a better practice strategy would have been. (This still happens occasionally, although most of my students know now that they can’t hide a lack of practice from me). In lesson though, after “confession”, if they can’t come up with any effective practice strategies (or even if they do), I will often give them a laundry list of much more efficient ways to practice that piece/passage/section so they can finally conquer it. Often, I will have them do certain things in lesson (such as ghosting one hand while playing the other, practice a passage in dotted rhythms and then reverse the dotted rhythms, or go back and forth between chords, etc) so that they can see their progress in a matter of five minutes or less. This usually inspires them to go back the following week and do what I ask.
       One thing I definitely do now, that I didn’t do in my first year of teaching is have both my students and their parents sign studio contracts each semester. Not only is this a legal protection for me in terms of payment, but it’s also important that the student read, review, and re-sign the studio policy each semester before committing to lessons. Every student needs to remember each semester what they’re getting into and what’s expected of them.
       I think, on the whole (based on the examples I’m remembering as I write), the biggest things I’ve changed in my teaching since my first year or two is honesty and transparency in the teacher-student relationship, as well as checking my high expectations against their realities. The best thing I can do for a student is to show them how much I actually care through my interactions with them and my expectations each week during lesson. The most loving and instructive thing I do actually, is give them grace when necessary, which I think I was less inclined to do as a new teacher having been freshly pruned as a teacher myself. I also think one of the greatest things I’ve learned is how to discern when a student really needs grace and when they need grace with a side of pushing. Of course I want them to learn to read music, play with a nice tone and nice voicing, be able to move around the keyboard efficiently, make lovely musical phrases, pedal correctly, and play each piece as if it were the greatest thing ever written. But I think what I’ve really learned in the past five years or so is that if grace is the one thing they take away from their lessons, then that in itself is worth it.

alive and well: first days

Hello again, Reader!  I decided I may use my blog periodically to (sort of) document my thoughts and progress as I make my way through graduate school.  Below you will find a picture of me on my first day at Washington University.  This was on Monday of this week and it made a killing on Facebook:  over 50 people liked it!  That is a lot for me.  Mostly I think people do not pay attention to what I post, because it is usually some New York Times article about the state of education in this country or some random gluten-free recipe.  But, this was me, on a very hot first day of graduate school:

It was insanely bright and hot that morning, even at 9:30 am, and in the 10 minutes it took me to park illegally, run up the steps to Brookings, and snap this selfie, I probably sweated at minimum a bucket's worth of bodily fluids.  Gross.  Jacob always says I'm a charmer.  Now you know :)

Anyway, it is only Wednesday as I type this, but for all practical purposes, my first week of school is over.  I have classes on Mondays and Wednesdays, with occasional observations on Tuesday afternoons.  I am very thankful to have Thursdays and Fridays reserved for teaching, practicing, and homework only.  Already I love that part of my schedule.

I am a little overwhelmed -- not as much as I expected -- although I have to tell you that I expected to die in my first week (no joke).  The good news is:  I haven't died!  We'll see if I live to tell the tale of Week 2 or not, but in the meantime, I feel like I'm managing ok.  That is definitely the word to use though:  managing.  I told my mom on the phone today that I will always have my fingers plugging multiple holes over the next two years.  Actually, my fingers will be on the keys, but I digress.  I'm only taking three classes, but am considered full time for graduate status, so take from that what you will.  If that doesn't tell you what you need to know, then I will tell you that on our first day of Analysis (i.e. music theory at the graduate level), we covered three-key expositions in a late Schubert sonata.  There are also only five people in that class and I am one of two masters students (the others are doctoral candidates in theory and musicology) and I'm also the only girl.  We'll have an analysis assignment due every class, not to turn in, but to discuss and, in a class of five... well... you can't hide.

Some of the best advice given to me before the semester started (by both Dr. Budds and Tiffany) was to take three classes and only three classes my first semester and I am already thanking my lucky stars that I followed their sage advice.  I will also have accompanying for my ensemble credit, but I am so incredibly thankful I decided not to take another academic class on top of all this.

My pedagogy class, observations, and lessons will be just what I need as a pianist and a teacher, I think.  In my readings and practicing I'm already a little overwhelmed (not a ton, mind you), but more inwardly.  I think this was one of my major downfalls during undergrad -- push, push, push.  I am so one of those who wants to exceed expectations at the expense of my own satisfaction and enjoyment... like, detrimentally.  I realized earlier tonight that the best thing I can do for myself as both a teacher and a pianist is to enjoy this time.  I love school.  I love learning and I love becoming better at things.  But honestly that grade drives me beyond what it should, which means (and I think Jacob would probably agree... for that matter my mom and sister too) I probably need to relax a little... ?  Not in the sense of shirking my homework, but I think I tend to expect too much of myself -- or more than what's required anyway.  Like, way more than what's required.  Especially in my head, which just leads to exhaustion and burnout.  Blech.  Who needs that??

(If you're wondering just how much I overachieve, I can tell you that for Analysis today, we had to analyze a Haydn Minuet and Trio, look over the discussion questions, and come prepared to discuss our answers.  Yours truly provided almost a complete harmonic and form analysis, typed up her answers to the discussion questions, and printed them out in case he wanted them turned in.)

But this is something I'm doing for myself!  And I think that will be a really helpful perspective to keep in mind.  I'm doing this for me and my students:  the best thing I can do is enjoy it, because I know that so much of my inspiration as a musician and teacher comes when I love what I'm working on.  The rest just sort of falls into place when that happens.

Anyway, that's all for now.  It's been a good week.  There's a lot of work to be done and my days are full, but I think it will be good.  I think I will probably not die during Week 2, although the verdict is definitely still out.

Also, if you happen to be in St. Louis and randomly see me in the supermarket weeks from now and I look like I'm about to have a breakdown... remind me to come back and read this post.  That would probably be helpful.

Love, Katie Beth  

all clear on the western front

Been awhile since my last post, and it may be another while before my next.  Looking back, it's been almost exactly 14 months since I last wrote on this blog.  A lot of things have happened.  A lot has changed, although some has stayed the same.  I gave my first recital since the end of my undergraduate career this past weekend.  It was fun and delightful and it amazes me how much I didn't struggle with nerves and anxiety like I used to.  I owe a lot to my teacher for that.  She not only helped me learn to let go of mistakes more easily, but she's taught me how to prepare better.  She is, undoubtedly, the first teacher I've ever worked my ass off for so diligently.  I hope I'm just like her some day.  Except she doesn't ever curse.  Like ever.  I'll have to work on that one... maybe.

My sister is getting married exactly one month from today.  Boy, is that crazy.  There was a time when that thought would have really depressed me, but it doesn't.  I'm just uber-happy for her and Will.  They totally deserve each other in all the best possible ways and he has been the best brother-in-law-to-be I could ask for during their dating career.  I know they will take care of each other and I'm thrilled for both of them.

Jacob and I are still together.  We celebrated a year of dating in April.  I am so beyond blessed to be dating such a man.  He is so good and sweet to me, not to mention wildly hilarious.  I never thought I could be so happy.  We celebrated the (almost)-end-of-the-school-year by going to Chicago in early May for a weekend, complete with a Cards-Cubs game and trips to three different museums.  He then stayed home from camp this summer to take classes and although surprised, I was infinitely thankful to have him here with me.  We've enjoyed an unseasonably cool summer in the Lou together going to ballgames, Shakespeare in the Park, concerts on the lawn, evening walks, movies at the local theatres, and eating our share of crêpes at the City Coffeehouse.  I love spending time with that boy.

All that to say, I start my graduate degree in less than a month.  Right now, I am in the worst scheduling nightmare you can possibly imagine, trying to figure out how to fit in classes and lessons, weekly pedagogy observations, two different accompanying commitments, and nine private students.  A few weeks ago I lost about three students in the span of 2 or 3 days and almost immediately forgot about the lost income, so thankful I was to have less to worry about in terms of time management.  I knew this disaster was coming.  I even thought I was mostly prepared.  I was not.  If I can figure out how to balance three academic classes along with the rest of the above, and still find time to sleep and be with my boyfriend, I will be a happy girl.  I know it can happen, I just need a little... magic ;)

(... although something tells me such magic may include getting up at 5 or 6 every morning)... we shall see, though.  I'm determined to get at least 7 hrs of sleep each night.  And I think I will have to be seriously vigilant about saying no to some things.

My brother leaves tomorrow for his junior year of college.  It blows my mind that he will be a junior this year.  My sister and I have all but forced him to sign a contract promising to stay home next summer when he turns 21.  After being out of the country for his previous two birthdays, we feel pretty justified in this request.  But he is still in the midst of an international studies degree and on the whole, happy and well.  We had a major philosophical discussion the other day and I think it sort of ruffled his feathers realizing how strangely different we are, despite having grown up in the same house.  I remember having those kinds of conversations in college though, which is probably how we ended up being so different after all ;)  I secretly hope he has many more in the next few years.  It makes me feel old to say so, but I think it's easy to forget just how formative those years are.

But I think the thing that amazes me the most about the difference between this summer and last summer (at least in myself) is my age, or maybe dare-I-say... maturity?  Not that I have my life together by any means, but it's just different now.  Some of the whimsy is gone, I know, along with some of the cynicism, replaced with a no-nonsense practicality and a "taking care of business" attitude.  I don't think I'd go classify myself as a Nike poster girl by any means, but this year has taught me a lot about what I actually want and how to assert myself, which is something I've never been good at... and about what narcissism and self-analysis will get you, which is a lot of angst with a side of work left undone.  I even had to force myself to write this tonight just to keep things documented and somewhat up-to-date.  But when all is said and done, the minutia of daily life probably won't change the world.  I think for a long time, I really wanted it to.  I really wanted all the small, silly, goofy, stupid, mind-blowing, and meaningful things of my life to help make someone (or everyone) else's world a better place.  But my world isn't yours.  Documenting it may brighten someone's day, but the sheer volume is likely more often overwhelming than not.  I think it's the little things that all add up to the person you actually are that helps make this world a better place, if that's how you choose to live anyway.

Some people have an innate gift for filtering the good things and sharing them in a way that is attractive, visible, and meaningful.  But I am not one of those people.  I do not need to live and die by the approval of the online community, nor am I a good storyteller, neither am I great at remembering to document or photograph things regularly.  I think I decided somewhere back about nine or ten months ago that I didn't need to do that anymore -- not like I used to anyway.  I think I decided that it was more important to protect myself, my thoughts, and my loved ones from online intrusion and the burden of documentation and just go live my life.

Anyway, reader, thanks for stopping in.  All that to say, all clear on the western front.  Be seeing you.  

milkshakes

I've attempted to write this post now on a couple of different occasions.  Sometimes my posts are just like that.  They roll around in my head and sit as drafts in my blog until they come out right.  There's been a lot going on lately.  For one thing, I moved two days ago.  Yes, again.  This time, to Forest Park.  The move is a good thing and it went amazingly well, thanks to some really great friends, who I'm super thankful for.  Somehow people are always willing to help, which I can't fathom, but I'm utterly grateful for.  Last Saturday, I finished up at Lutheran, playing for my third and final graduation ceremony there.  It was a bittersweet moment.  I will miss those Lutherans, but am super pumped for the time I'll have to pursue my audition process and focus on my students this next year.  In the end, most of the Lutheran kids found out I was leaving and they were sad, but I assured them they would find someone else equally competent.  I may be the only Katie Beth like me in the world, but I'm not the only one able to accompany a choir.  Freedom, indeed.  And now I find myself in the midst of facing two and a half months of a long-distance dating relationship.  Yes.  You read that right.  We've been seeing each other since mid-April and he left this past week to be a camp counselor for the summer at a camp on the shores of Lake Superior.  11 hours away.  Til mid-August.

[... right now my grandma is reading this and about to fall out of her chair because I'm nearly certain this is the first she's heard of it... hang in there, Grandma.  I'm rooting for you ;) ...]

And I would be lying to you if I said that this were easy.  Because it's not.  Long-distance blows.  I told my friend Kirk this the other day and she straight up looked at me and said, "It's been what, two days, Katie Beth?  You can do this."  What further complicates things is that when I'm honest about him with my closest friends, I get a number of mixed reactions.  Each conversation mostly follows a pattern of voiced misgivings/concerns, questions, and then silence (or some type of warning to be careful with my heart).  Because Jacob is Jewish.  And I love that about him.  I can't tell you how much I've learned about life in the past six weeks of dating him, nor how well he treats me, nor how much he has redeemed of my previous dating experiences, which have been harmful and destructive to say the least (which is powerful when you consider that most of the guys I've dated have been Christians).  And there are a lot of things about our dating relationship that aren't crystal clear just yet.  To be truthful, I don't really know how to do this at all.  We're both figuring it out as we go and I'm learning a ton and I don't really know what's going to happen exactly.  But I'm trusting that the Lord knows what's going on and he will guide and direct us both accordingly.  He will make things clear in his time, because he is good and faithful like that.  Because it isn't always black and white, like you think it should be.  In the meantime, I'm getting to know a truly wonderful person, who I'm super sad isn't here this summer.  And I'm sad that the reactions I get to all this are mixed, at best.  On the one hand, I understand.  If I weren't me, I would probably be concerned as well.  On the other hand, it makes me want to stop telling people about it, which is equally sad considering I'm happier than I've been in a long time.  I made the mistake of telling him about some of the mixed reactions I've encountered over text the other night and it made me feel just awful.  I should've known better than to bring it up in a text conversation and I don't know what I was expecting, but of course it bothers him that people in my life have misgivings about him.  It bothers both of us.  "Dating a Jew is a really safe investment," he says.  "It's like buying a Ford Taurus.  Jewish guys treat their mothers well, they treat their girlfriends well, they're good with money... it's so sensible, some would say it's boring.  But your people think I'm like the motorcycle with flames coming out the back."

He was joking.  And it's funny.  But only because it's so true.

When I mentioned all this to a very wise friend of mine the other night, her comment was, "Wow,  that's really sad.  He should feel welcomed into our community..."  My thoughts exactly.

About a month ago when I had just started seeing him, my mom mentioned on the phone that, "Maybe God is just giving you something really good right now to help you get through the end of a hard semester."  And while that is a nice thought, it also made me think of my experiences as a child when I would go to the dentist and my mom would take me out for a milkshake afterward to soothe the pain.  A milkshake probably wasn't always the best choice, considering the cavity that had just been filled, but it always made me feel better.

But I don't think God is like that.  He doesn't give us milkshakes just to make us feel better.  Everything, even things that are ridiculously wonderful, are hard in their own way.  I think it would be more accurate to say that Jesus is there for us, just like when we're going through something hard, we have family and friends who are there for us.  They can't necessarily change things in our situation, but they offer us their presence.  And inevitably they will fail at times, because they're human.  But Jesus doesn't fail.  He may or may not intervene in our current situation.  But more importantly, he offers us himself in the midst of hard things.  He is our milkshake, except when you compare him like that, the metaphor gets totally lost because his presence is so much more than just a milkshake.  He's a sweet balm -- the cure, really -- for our weary, anxiety-filled souls.  I think Don Miller says it best in his book "Searching for God Knows What":

"It seems that Christ's parables, Christ's words about eating his flesh and drinking his blood, were designed to bypass the memorization of ideas and cause us to wrestle with a certain need to cling to him."

And I think this is true in life as well.  He doesn't just give us a milkshake in certain situations or for certain situations.  He gives us his grace in every situation (which we may or may not see) and most importantly, he gives us himself to cling to.

I miss that Jewish boy.  I wish he were coming home soon.  It's gonna be a long summer... 

Done, done, and done.

This morning I am slowly putting the pieces of my life back together again.  This weekend was a big weekend for me:  studio recital on Saturday and my final concert with the Lutheran High choirs last night.  The kids at Lutheran don't know that I won't be coming back next year but they will find out eventually, which is why I don't mind saying anything now that it's over.  Ironically, two of the junior girls gave me a bouquet of flowers from my director last night after it was all over, not realizing what any of it meant.  "Here you go!  She ordered these for you along with the senior recognition roses!"  How funny and bizarre.

Overall, it went well.  There was a slight mishap towards the beginning of the last piece, of course -- a medley from "Les Mis."  All of a sudden I was half a measure behind and had no idea why.  But I found them and we moved on and when I asked some of the other musicians I knew from the audience later, they couldn't tell a difference or hadn't noticed.  It bothered me a lot on the way home but part of being a pianist is learning from mistakes and just letting go.  Sometimes your last hurrah won't always go the way you want it to.

But I am glad it's over.  I am such a tired puppy.  I still have to play graduation, but that will be fine:  a few hymns and several rounds of "Pomp and Circumstance."  And the seniors may sing something.  But nothing major.

I haven't made coffee yet this morning and it's 9:22.  That is how slowly I am moving this morning.  Because that is how tired I am.  My friends John and Megan came to the concert last night to see Megan's younger brother sing and I felt awful talking to them afterwards because I just had nothing to say and I wasn't my normal self.  And I hadn't seen them in at least three weeks.  Have you ever been in conversation with someone and wondered who's replaced you and how you can get your normal self back except that you're too tired to try?  That's what it was like.  I hope to catch up with Megan this week when I'm no longer the exhausted version of myself.

I am really looking forward to this next year.  Not only will I be able to focus on my students and my own music and my auditions, but I'll be able to breathe and see my friends.  Freedom has never seemed so delicious.  I may be freaking out about my finances some over the course of this next year, but for now, I'm gonna trust the Lord for that.  The important thing is that for all practical purposes, I'm just gonna go ahead and call it:  I'm done.  I have learned a ton and will totally miss those Lutherans.  But I am done.  Praise God from whom all blessings flow.

And I need to figure out what I'm doing for the ballet studio.  But that will be another day.  Because sometimes you need soak in done-ness.  For now I'm thankful that my students played well on Saturday and that this school year is all but done.  DONE.  Like stick a fork in it done.  Thank the Lord.  I am done.  I am officially a freelancer.