"You are the music while the music lasts."--T.S. Eliot
I've always been drawn to music. In elementary school, the band instructor would bring in all sorts of instruments and allow us to try them to persuade us to join band. I never could get a sound out of a single instrument. It's always bothered me. I remember asking if I could play the triangle because I knew my capabilities and limitations. The band director chuckled and moved on to the next kid, saying he didn't have room for a triangle player in the band. When I was in the fourth grade, I was asked to mouth a line in the chorus instead of singing it. The chorus director announced to the entire chorus that one person was "off key." At the time, I never understood why she asked me to do that, so I obliged. Reflecting on it now, it is another example of how I am not musical despite the fact that I feel like I live in a musical world. I'm drawn to all types of music. Music has been known to make the hairs on my arms stand up and make me cry. It is one of the most powerful forces in my life.
This summer I had to adjust to a quiet household after 9:00 p.m. My husband was working in Harrisonburg, my children were asleep, and I was left alone in my living room. I was the master of my domain; I could have watched whatever t.v. show I wanted, lounged and read any book of my choice, and yet, I felt so very alone. I turned to music. I constantly played music during the quiet moments in my house. The musicians began to speak to me in ways I had never experienced before. Everything from Khalid to the Beatles (no surprise there) from the Eagles to Ed Sheeran. I always have been that person who has a song in her head. I know that if I had to have a theme song for when I entered the room, it would easily be something like Michael Jackson's "Man in the Mirror." That song connects with me. I understand the values of that song. I wake up every morning to Tim McGraw's "Humble and Kind." It is an early morning reminder (a 5:20 a.m. reminder for that matter) on how to live my life. I spend 3 minutes and 54 seconds of every day listening to my favorite Beatles song "Let it Be." I am inspired by the idea of Tom Petty's "Into the Great Wide Open." And I constantly am mesmerized by the range of someone like Adele or Whitney Houston, the tenderness of Elton John and Eric Clapton, the intimicy of Jack Johnson, the sounds of Raury. When I get a song in my head, I often can't get it out. For three hours today I had "Despacito" on my brain thanks to my children. Does it surprise you that my son Jack knows all of the Spanish words to that song that I despise? But I digress.
Last Friday, I woke Jack up for school, and he looked me straight in the eye and said, "I'm not going to school."
"You're going," I said sternly.
"I've already done this for five years. I'm not doing it anymore," he said. It was then that I started to panic. What if he remained so headstrong that he completely refused?
I quickly retorted with, "If I have to carry you to the bus stop, I will." He didn't look amused. But neither was I. When Jack came downstairs, I decided that I needed to change my attitude. Demanding he go to school was not going to fix things but make him even more resistant. So, I turned to music. I started playing the 80's anthem, "Pump Up the Jam." It's a horrendous song, really, but it's upbeat and chock full of lyrics to get you moving in the morning and always brings me back to my eighth grade years. As I danced around the kitchen, Maggie and Katie started to laugh. That's the reaction I was going for. Jack finally looked at me and said, "Mom, you know the food I just swallowed?"
"Yes?" I said.
"It's starting to come back up."
The cleverness and quick wit of that kid never ceases to make me laugh. And all of the sudden music had brought him out of his funk. He may not have bought into the sheer awesomeness of "Pump Up the Jam," but he was smiling...and on his way to school.
I used to teach with music on a regular basis. Instead of teaching grammar through the traditional textbook like I was supposed to be doing, I printed out song lyrics. My students identified prepositional phrases from the Beatles' "Let it Be." They labeled common and proper nouns in Billy Joel's "We Didn't Start the Fire." They eventually started to bring in their own song lyrics. My students were recognizing grammatical patterns in their own music. Marvin Gaye's "What's Going On" helped my students explore the injustices in Antigone and the Notorious B.I.G. came through to study the theme of greed in The Pearl with the song "Mo Money Mo Problems." So when challenged after graduation by Jack Snider to write a lesson around Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here," I was bound and determined to come up with something.
I ended up using that song on the first day of school to teach not only analysis but my overall message for the year. Students first analyzed the album cover.
Then, they looked at one single line, trying to make sense of it all "chopped up" in a magnetic poetry format.
When given the full lyric, they explored larger themes and ideas, even colormarking the song lyrics.
Students were particularly drawn to the line, "We're just two lost souls living in a fishbowl year after year." Ultimately, I presented my overall message to them for the school year through Pink Floyd's lyrics: Don't be a lost soul living in a fishbowl this year. I encouraged them as the song suggests to be learners who are engaged and fearless. I stressed the importance of being people who don't let an opportunity pass, people who take chances. The music spoke to my students. They wrote statements for homework that evening about working to escape the fishbowls in their lives, vowing to make the most of every moment. And so lies the power of music.
"You are the music while the music lasts." I've started to think about this line from a poem by T.S. Eliot a lot this week. What does this mean? Live life to the fullest while your song is being played. It means making the most of every moment. It means taking chances and exiting the fishbowl of familiarity. I found myself this week starting to feel suffocated and overwhelmed. I have a lot on my plate. I told that to someone recently, and he asked if I had carrots. I didn't think it was funny at the time. I actually was slightly annoyed, but I'm laughing now. If you can't have a sense of humor about life, you really aren't living. Still, this past week I started to question how I can be everything for every person in my life. I was about to lose at this balancing act until I ran a race this morning to support those battling childhood cancer. I didn't want to run this race; I had far more than just carrots on my plate to tackle this Saturday, but a current student encouraged me to run. I never run with music during a race, but felt like I needed music this morning. The first song I heard as I turned to my go-to running playlist was "Man in the Mirror"--my enter-the-room theme song. There's nothing better than hitting the pavement to Michael Jackson. I listened to the words through a fraction of mile 1, and somehow everything seemed to click. "If you want to make the world a better place, take a look at yourself and make a change." I have control of my own destiny. I am the master of my fate. I am the music while the music lasts.
I vowed in that moment to make the most of my life, and that's what I want to end on as words for you all as you are finding your way at your new college "homes." Make the most out of your experience. College will throw you curveballs, and you will forget the lyrics from time to time. That's okay. Live life to its fullest. Take advantage of every opportunity. I will go to work Monday stronger than I was on Friday because I don't want to waste away a moment. How I wish I had never counted the days away in my life.
So, I hope this gives you an idea of what to do today, of how to live. Take a look at yourself and make the change that seems right to you. Swim outside of your fishbowls. Live life to its fullest. Be the music while the music lasts.
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