Water, food, and oxygen are the essentials to survive.....well add music to that list for me and I'm good. I simply can't imagine my life without music. Music is an emotional rollercoaster traveling through beautiful melodies and vivid lyrics....it heightens whatever feelings I have stirring in my soul at any given moment. Similar to the same feeling I get when my freshly shaved legs hit warm sheets or the feeling of hearing my gorgeous niece say "I LOVE YOU BEANPYE"....it soothes my soul. Music sparks the memory to recall some of the most magnificent and devestating events of my life. Good music never fails to leave you with some sort of strong emotion. It surely didn't fail to deliver some...ahhh, should I say truly unforgettable moments in school today as well.
So guess what new teacher was appointed to be the head instructor for the very first student gospel choir ever at my school? Yes, that is right, Ms. Thompson was named to be the new gospel choir instructor! I think it's safe to say that I'm more excited to instruct the kids in this group than my public speaking class!
Tryouts were today....and Lord help me! I think I earned about 4 FULL scholarships to hell from the comments that were running through my head as a few students started to sing. Ever seen the first 2-3 rounds of American Idol? If you have...then I don't have to say anything else. I'm sure you are laughing and holding your side now ...just cracking up!
I think I got a hernia today. Actually, I KNOW I got a hernia today. No lie. I should have won an Oscar for putting on the best poker face during the tryouts. It took everything in my power to not shed any tears or errupt in a gut busting laugh! If another student strutted through the door singing "his eye is on the sparrow" then I think I would have put a stake through the sparrow's eye! About half the kids were all over the place...started off as a soprano then went like 5 octaves down and ended as a baritone. I was utterly confused! Also, is it mandatory to do a 20 second riff in order to be considered a gospel song? I had a few girls do a "gospel" version/remix of a few Beyonce songs.."crazy in love"..or "dangerously in love"...It took me about 10 seconds to figure out what in the hell they were trying to sing. As I was writing down their critique, I put ..."under no circumstances will we ever pass her the mic for a solo"......oh noooo.
Now, about 5 or 6 girls blew me away with their vocals and one girl simply gave me chills. Think of Kim Burrell meets Sarah Vaughn with the rich warm tones of Anita Baker. I gave her a standing ovation. So I am debating tonight should I even make any cuts whatsoever? The people who sounded like wet gremlins trapped in an attic could just sing the chorus and contribute to the overall volume of the choir while the soloist really add the flare, right?
The last thing I'd hate to do is cut a kid whose heart is into singing (but simply has no voice) and then they have no afterschool activity. What would they do with their idle time after they left school? Get into trouble? Maybe I will assign them to be the choreographers of the gospel choir because I want to really make this choir unique!
I had a few flashbacks to the movies, "Siser Act" while the auditions took place. I'm looking forward to entering as many competitions in and out of NYC as possible! Thankfully, we have at least 4-5 guys and girls who play instruments or make beats in our group. So I want to see what kinds of songs these kids will create from scratch! I am soooooooo happy about this project. Now, the challenging part.....finding the funds to get these kids instruments so that we can practice and get a band going to back up the singers and...nonsingers! lol
If you know of anyone who has an old instrument they'd like to donate or if you find a listing off of craigslist you want to forward to me of used instruments...keyboards, guitars, etc....let me know! I can't wait to invite you all to one of their concerts!...or better yet...have them come to a local church meeting or service and sing to YOU! Hold up...let me not get ahead of myself. I still have to figure out how to drown out the William Hung's in the group....Lord help me!
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Monday, October 15, 2007
DEFROSTING THE HEART...
A girl ran out of the classroom to keep from vomiting today. Another girl started crying and then several of the burliest guys in my class had played hooky from my class. Why?...ahhhh, well it was their very first speech day EVER! The kids were scared out of their minds because I walked into class with one of the most stoic faces ever, when I usually sport a beaming smile.
I simply told them that if they laugh, taunt or ridicule a classmate during their speech, then there will be some "major problems...and that they didn't want major problems with me". Inside I was dying laughing because I could literally see the gulps in the throats of most of the kids.
Minutes later, the kids were laughing uncontrollably.....and so was I. It was laughter from the comedic speech of the first volunteer, one of my most creative students, James. James decided to deliever his speech on "what is love" in a full British accent and ended the speech by serenading a young girl on the front row of the class. I thought the girl was going to pass out because she already had the biggest crush on him prior to the speech. LOL!!! After him came a series of speeches that ranged from kids whose parents were killed to a scholar sharing their love for taking care of their ailing sibling. About 40% of the kids stood up and said, "i don't know what love is" or "I'm not sure if my family really loves me"...things on those lines. The sheer honestly and transparency of the kids during a first speech in front of an entire classroom almost brought me to tears. The kids didn't realize that through their complaints, fears and dubious attitudes prior to speech day, they managed to shine beyond their wildest dreams!
For the scholar who said, "someone help me defrost my heart to love"...
For the scholar who said, "I lost every concept of love when my mom died last year"
For the scholar who said, "Love gave up on me a long time ago"..
For the scholar who said, "What is love without follow up...just broken promises"...
For all of those scholars, I say to them that "I loved them before I even knew them. I loved them the day I quit my job in entertainment, and I have love for them every morning as I wake up and head to one of the worst neighborhoods in the United States."
I love my job,...I love my kids...and I love the array of emotions they give me each and everyday.
I simply told them that if they laugh, taunt or ridicule a classmate during their speech, then there will be some "major problems...and that they didn't want major problems with me". Inside I was dying laughing because I could literally see the gulps in the throats of most of the kids.
Minutes later, the kids were laughing uncontrollably.....and so was I. It was laughter from the comedic speech of the first volunteer, one of my most creative students, James. James decided to deliever his speech on "what is love" in a full British accent and ended the speech by serenading a young girl on the front row of the class. I thought the girl was going to pass out because she already had the biggest crush on him prior to the speech. LOL!!! After him came a series of speeches that ranged from kids whose parents were killed to a scholar sharing their love for taking care of their ailing sibling. About 40% of the kids stood up and said, "i don't know what love is" or "I'm not sure if my family really loves me"...things on those lines. The sheer honestly and transparency of the kids during a first speech in front of an entire classroom almost brought me to tears. The kids didn't realize that through their complaints, fears and dubious attitudes prior to speech day, they managed to shine beyond their wildest dreams!
For the scholar who said, "someone help me defrost my heart to love"...
For the scholar who said, "I lost every concept of love when my mom died last year"
For the scholar who said, "Love gave up on me a long time ago"..
For the scholar who said, "What is love without follow up...just broken promises"...
For all of those scholars, I say to them that "I loved them before I even knew them. I loved them the day I quit my job in entertainment, and I have love for them every morning as I wake up and head to one of the worst neighborhoods in the United States."
I love my job,...I love my kids...and I love the array of emotions they give me each and everyday.
TEARS & SYRINGES
Every morning after getting off the 3 train in Brownsville, I am constantly looking down to make sure that I don't step on syringes. I see them, sometimes in piles, on the walk to my school and my heart breaks knowing that my people are pumping death into their veins to escape the harsh realities of life.
The days that I'm not focusing on dodging syringes, I catch myself literally holding my breath. Why? Well, there's a set of guys who always speak and are cordial to me in the most hood way possible..lol...but they have 2-3 of the most vicious pitbulls on chains. They encourage the dogs to fight each other and on any given day I literally get lightheaded from not breathing because the dogs get so out of control within the path in which I have to pass. What if the owners lose control and the dogs get loose and attack me? What if my days of running track have faded into the wind and the dogs tackle my ass taking turns digging into my jugglar? (If my parents knew this...they would probably pass out!)Yes, I have played all of this out in my head at least several times a week as I walk to school. Oh and let 's not get on the crackheads who are in a world of their own who yell out obsentities who sometimes creep up on me and scare the living daylights out of me!
Oh and who can forget the unpredictable soundtrack of life I carry everyday...the IPOD. Don't let my ipod happen to randomly shuffle to a sad, slow song from Nina Simone, BillieHoliday or Sade. I remember one day when I saw a pregnant woman who appeared to be 40ish and strung out on drugs and Billie's song, Bless the Child, came roaring through my ipod during the shuffle. My eyes welled up and my shades were the only thing that shielded my eyes directly connecting with the woman. Was I crying because she was harming the young helpless child she was carrying? Was I crying because this human, another black woman like myself, felt as if she had no choices and succumbed to the pitfalls of life? or was I crying because maybe some sort of guilt set in because no one "seemed" to be helping this woman and child in need..including myself? or was I crying because someone, like myself--from middle class America, was now being constantly bombarded with images that I did not grow up with on an everyday basis?
Most of my friends know that I've had my fair share of wild and whimsical experiences while working in TV doing segments in crackhouses in Baltimore, ganglife in South Central LA, to triple homicides in the deserts of New Mexico, but to see this day in and day out now just made my heart heavy. To see the eyes of contentment of the young brothers on the corner who appeared to be barely 19 just overwhelmed me dearly.
After I complete my 5 minute ,humbling yet sad, walk to school everyday, it inspires me to work the hell out of my kids EVERYDAY to make sure they are not another statistic on the streets of Brownsville. I want to show them there are options in the world and that they are WORTHY of greatness no matter what their background/past is.
As soon as I entered the school one morning after seeing the preganant fiend, my tense forehead slowly loosened up and a smile consumed my face because I peeped one of my favorite students in the corner of the cafeteria practicing her speech, which was due later on that day. For a few seconds, I hid in the cut, listened to her correct herself, and enunciate her words like we practiced. I silently smiled and headed up on the elevator to start my day.
At that moment, I put all the worries of the outside world in my back pocket. The heavy burden in my pocket kept me on my toes all day long and prevented me from sitting down the entire day....for I had a surge of energy in my blood like that of a nearby crackhead hitting the pipe. I knew the source of my high. I had been thinking about the feeling of this high since the previous night. It was the day in which my kids would take the centerstage and deliver their first speech titled, "What is love?"....
The days that I'm not focusing on dodging syringes, I catch myself literally holding my breath. Why? Well, there's a set of guys who always speak and are cordial to me in the most hood way possible..lol...but they have 2-3 of the most vicious pitbulls on chains. They encourage the dogs to fight each other and on any given day I literally get lightheaded from not breathing because the dogs get so out of control within the path in which I have to pass. What if the owners lose control and the dogs get loose and attack me? What if my days of running track have faded into the wind and the dogs tackle my ass taking turns digging into my jugglar? (If my parents knew this...they would probably pass out!)Yes, I have played all of this out in my head at least several times a week as I walk to school. Oh and let 's not get on the crackheads who are in a world of their own who yell out obsentities who sometimes creep up on me and scare the living daylights out of me!
Oh and who can forget the unpredictable soundtrack of life I carry everyday...the IPOD. Don't let my ipod happen to randomly shuffle to a sad, slow song from Nina Simone, BillieHoliday or Sade. I remember one day when I saw a pregnant woman who appeared to be 40ish and strung out on drugs and Billie's song, Bless the Child, came roaring through my ipod during the shuffle. My eyes welled up and my shades were the only thing that shielded my eyes directly connecting with the woman. Was I crying because she was harming the young helpless child she was carrying? Was I crying because this human, another black woman like myself, felt as if she had no choices and succumbed to the pitfalls of life? or was I crying because maybe some sort of guilt set in because no one "seemed" to be helping this woman and child in need..including myself? or was I crying because someone, like myself--from middle class America, was now being constantly bombarded with images that I did not grow up with on an everyday basis?
Most of my friends know that I've had my fair share of wild and whimsical experiences while working in TV doing segments in crackhouses in Baltimore, ganglife in South Central LA, to triple homicides in the deserts of New Mexico, but to see this day in and day out now just made my heart heavy. To see the eyes of contentment of the young brothers on the corner who appeared to be barely 19 just overwhelmed me dearly.
After I complete my 5 minute ,humbling yet sad, walk to school everyday, it inspires me to work the hell out of my kids EVERYDAY to make sure they are not another statistic on the streets of Brownsville. I want to show them there are options in the world and that they are WORTHY of greatness no matter what their background/past is.
As soon as I entered the school one morning after seeing the preganant fiend, my tense forehead slowly loosened up and a smile consumed my face because I peeped one of my favorite students in the corner of the cafeteria practicing her speech, which was due later on that day. For a few seconds, I hid in the cut, listened to her correct herself, and enunciate her words like we practiced. I silently smiled and headed up on the elevator to start my day.
At that moment, I put all the worries of the outside world in my back pocket. The heavy burden in my pocket kept me on my toes all day long and prevented me from sitting down the entire day....for I had a surge of energy in my blood like that of a nearby crackhead hitting the pipe. I knew the source of my high. I had been thinking about the feeling of this high since the previous night. It was the day in which my kids would take the centerstage and deliver their first speech titled, "What is love?"....
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