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Cleaning out my phone + from the vault: Class of 2017 get their revenge. 😂
The Wrapper-er gets wrapped. 😄
“JUST REMEMBER WHO’S MARKING YOUR SOLO PERFORMANCES!”, I kept yelling sporadically.
I pulled out a white hair this morning and discovered that it was going “back to black” (reference totally intended 😁) at the root. 😎
I felt AWESOME! 🙌
I felt INVINCIBLE! 👊
And this feeling of invincibility lasted until approximately Lesson 2, Year 7 Prac. 😂
Today was one of those days where I was right IN the whole problem-solving, behaviour management, motivating, and beating kids back into shape. I knew it was coming, and I knew this week would be the week for Grammarphones, Senior Concert Band, and my senior kiddies. The week where I would hunt them all down and have The Conversation, in whatever incarnation was required.
I hate it and love it. They see and hear the care from me, but also the fire in the belly for excellence, for them and myself, in EVERY capacity. Not just academically, but personally. I want the complete package: great people who strive for their best. 🌟
Even though I KNOW that I have done the best that I can, I can’t help but replay conversations, and wonder if I have done enough, and with the right words + weight.
And when it’s Music kiddies it becomes all the more connected and personal because of what they give to you on a daily basis. The conversations inevitably become even more emotionally-charged because you love your kiddies + because of the relationship you have with them. 💛
But I got one tiny little gem back today; walking out of the Music Centre into the Centre for Senior Learning, newly beat-up Sir Year 11 went one way and I went the other.
But not far enough that I couldn’t hear this:
Sir Year 11: “Hey, where were you? We’ve been waiting for ages!”
Mangled Sir Year 11: “Ms Kwok wanted speak with me about Grammarphones. She was disappointed in me.”
Sir Year 11: “Oh shit.”
Why is it that only when we travel, our hearts truly open?
And we are at our most open and tender, alive and willing to connect?
Why is our faith in humanity fully restored when we venture into an unfamiliar world?
When we are a little more vulnerable, a little more awake, a little more in awe of our surroundings?
A little shy, a little bold, all at once?
And why is it that we so easily forget how much is beautiful exactly where we are?
When we are just walking an ordinary simply daily path?
How is it our that our hearts close over a little each day when we feel safe and secure, and we don’t even notice it until we don’t send that extra message, we don’t reach out, we don’t laugh louder, we don’t hug closer, we don’t try a little harder for the silly-crazy because…we don’t have time? Or the inclination?
Help me notice, oh, help me notice. I want my heart to be regularly shaken up, cracked open, flooded, and constantly discovering the world.
I want my heart to be alive.
My first teaching mentor gave me this. I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE it!
She was larger than life, beloved, and a force to be reckoned with. I wanted to imbue some of her spirit. And now, 15 years late, I hope I have done her proud.
I have absolutely let her down in the “watch this space” category in the LITERAL BIOLOGICAL sense, but I hope that she’s watched my ACTUAL teaching trajectory and been a little bit proud.
I tackled the study today and was dreading the 3 large tubs full of cards, notes, and letters as they’d been untouched since…I moved into my home!
It turned into the most extraordinary, nostalgic, and humbling walk down memory lane. There were note of thanks + encouragement from my mentors from when I was 18 years old, so utterly GREEN, and just starting out at Festival of Music. Played my first concert at 19, more programs + notes. The 10 years I was at Brighton, WOW. That was traversing a whole decade of teaching + all the years which have formed me as a teacher. Young Adelaide Voices, Gondie Voices, and the Con High. The very top layer of the final box, my first 3 years at Pulteney Grammar.
The layer that took my breath away was 2013, when I left Brighton to work in Sydney for a year. The notes of gratitude + thanks were numerous, overwhelmingly beautiful, funny, touching, and largely unprocessed by me. I had to pack up to move cities, so those notes + cards got packed up almost immediately.
Re-reading them now is just EXTRAORDINARY. And look at some of the detail and artwork.
I am so lucky.
Leunig so poignantly captures the spaces in-between, the humanity, the unspoken beauty, the essence of awkward, joyful, and lovely “being”.