As I've mentioned (1,009 times), last week I had the absolute joy of directing 133 students in our school's production of Hello Dolly.

It's such an old-fashioned musical--a musical from the late 60s based on a play from the 1930s about life in the 1890s. Many of the major plot points rest on cultural practices or beliefs that simply don't exist anymore (clerks living with their employer and being fired for going out on the town, matchmakers, widows shocking the world by working and so on). In fact, when I first started rehearsing, I almost felt like I was directing a Shakespeare piece in terms of having to fill the kids in on various cultural and historical details so they could understand what was going on. So much has changed since this musical was produced. So much has changed since my high school performed it in the 80s. 

So, why do it? Why do these creaky old shows? I've been thinking a lot about that. My students all want to do Wicked and Hairspray and High School Musical each year (never HSM!!!!!) A lot of other theatre educators choose to do lots of edgy social commentary stuff. So, I'm definitely marching to my own beat here. 

My first priority is always to find the play that provides the most opportunities for the most students and that fits the talent profile of a given class—which this play did--I had some boys with great voices. I had some strong altos and very few sopranos. I needed a play with an expandable cast--and so on. Dolly was uniquely suited to these specific needs in many ways. But, logistical demands aside, I believe that there is tremendous value in being acquainted with some of the great works of the past—and that is true in literature, art, music, as well as theatre.

Hello Dolly is not great art. I know that. Even within the genre of musical theatre, it didn't break ground like South Pacific or My Fair Lady or Oklahoma. But it's a well-crafted musical and, at one time, had great appeal and took it's place as the longest running show on Broadway for a time. Even today, audiences still enjoy it. I was amazed at how many people commented on how good they felt as they left the theatre. 

So, although I wouldn't call it great art, I do think it's a classic in those terms. Something becomes a classic because generations of people find it funny or poignant or meaningful. It tells us something about the human condition that we find resonant with our own lives.

 It is the great bias of the living that they occupy unique, usually uniquely difficult, times. And while it’s true that many things have changed over the years, human nature remains remarkably consistent.  The value of a classic is that it helps overcome our bias for now by lifting the curtain of contextual details to reveal something about the human condition.

Some parts of this play are dated, and are linked very specifically to a certain time and place. But there are other parts that are more universal, that deal with concerns humans have expressed as long as we’ve been recording our thoughts: love and loneliness for example.

I believe that at least one purpose of an education is to gain the ability to understand and appreciate a classic—to gain the interpretive tools and background knowledge to allow us to transcend the bias of our contemporary mindset and appreciate and enjoy the classics in any genre or discipline.

The truth is that Hairspray and Wicked are fun shows that have things to say. But the students today need no help to access those. They can do that on their own. And, as wonderful as those shows are, they are only the latest creations in a rich and robust theatrical tradition that spans thousands of years! The job of a teacher is to help unlock this rich heritage.

That is why we still perform old shows like Hello Dolly; On a more elevated level, it's why we read Dickens and Shakespeare and look at pieces by Degas and VanGogh. It’s why we listen to Bach and Beethoven and Handel.

These pieces have shaped our culture and world. They have informed our culture  today and they belong to us! And I believe our lives are richer when we have the ability to enjoy and learn from them. That's why I am proudly old-school. 

 

Opening night was last night and, my goodness, I was so proud of those kids! It really went incredibly well. To the point I'm a bit nervous about tonight. To see these kids in all their adolescent glory--dealing with all the concerns and vexations and worries they have--out in front of everyone singing and dancing their hearts out is really quite amazing. Knowing them as I do, and knowing just what it took for some of them to do that, and the sacrifices they've made, makes me love them all the more. 

I'll post photos in a few weeks when I get them back, but the sets and props and costumes were really something. Our community, led by some amazing parents, has poured heart and soul into making the kids look great. And the kids seem to have absorbed that and used it as a springboard to a greater performance. 

I often feel a bit guilty when I see how much time people devote to doing costumes or scenery or props or selling tickets and so on. Theatre is notoriously transient and fleeting. We work for months and then it's gone after three days. Is it worth all the time and trouble? All the disruption in people's lives and routines?

I always ask myself that question and towards the end of rehearsals, I always start to waver. But then, on opening night, I always come to the same conclusion. Yes, it's worth it. 

It's worth it for the pride the kids feel. It's worth it because it makes them feel important and special--that they are worth that effort. When you are an adolescent, that's a helpful message. It's worth it because it's beautiful and helps make the audience happy and have an enjoyable experience for a few hours. 

But I think there are deeper reasons, lessons I hope my students will absorb. I've decided to try to figure out ways of helping them understand this more consciously. It is profound for students at this age to see people doing work and doing it well. Life is work. If we are normal, we will spend a lot of time working in our lives and doing work well and joyfully, or at least with satisfaction, is one of the keys to happiness. 

So, even though I feel a twinge of guilt when I think of all the time the parents are putting in, I love it that the kids are seeing them working hard, working joyfully, working generously, and working well. Doing the job right in spite of how long it will last or the low material reward. Work is inherently worth doing well. 

There's another thing I love about this. These parents are all doing this with no compensation. They're doing it because some things aren't about money. The worth and value of some things far exceeds any price that can be affixed. That's another lesson I hope the students learn, one that is in short supply these days. 

And finally, doing big stuff, ambitious things, is tiring. It is exhausting and one needs to be careful not to live an unbalanced life or to just do big things for the sake of doing big things. Small can be beautiful too. But big projects remind us that humans are remarkable creatures. We can do terrible and brutish things, and we can often fail at the good things we try. But we can also do wonderful, beautiful things that we don't always think we can. In a time of so much uncertainty and worry and doubt, I think that is a good thing to remember. Even if it's just a big thing in one relatively small community, for three nights for 135 kids, I like it. 

So, I had an idea today. Since everyone now live blogs or tweets through major events like the Grammys or presidential debates, I thought I should be live blogging the upcoming middle school play. Because, the truth is, everyone wants to be involved in a middle school play at my school. And if you don't, that's only because you don't what you're missing. Sadly I only had this idea today, which means I've missed tech day and the first two dress rehearsals. So, I'll ctach-up posts on them. I'll start with last Friday:

Friday: February 10th. Rehearsal went very well today. Running time is looking good. It appears that we'll be at two hours, maybe just a bit over by the time we put set changes and intermission in. Things are going very smoothly. Tech day is tomorrow. I'm nervous about that, just because the set is so huge, huge, huge! I've got great stage managers, though, and some good crew members. 

Saturday, February 11th. Tech Day. This is biggest and longest and most tiring day of the year. I approach it with fear and trepidation mixed with excitement. 
Arrive at 8:00 and get some charts printed, get the piano lamp for the piano player, do a few other things. Stage crew arrives at 8:30 am. We talk about safety, following the stage manager, and I give them donuts and juice. We start cleaning up the theatre, getting everything in place.

Now, we walk through each scene and I show there where all the set pieces go. This takes a while because once we have things set, the stage manager has to record who will be moving it on and who will be moving it off. This has to be exact and everyone has to know what they are doing. 

We also have to spike everything. This means, we put some colored glow-in-the-dark tape on the stage floor to mark where each set piece goes. This way, the crew will be able to place things in the correct place, consistently, even in the dark.

I'm already seeing some exceptional work by the stage crew. Lots of thinking and planning ahead. They're getting it. 

One of our challenges are these huge pieces of scaffolding. They each have a piece of New York City painted on them. There are five of them and they cross the stage--about 40 feet wide altogether. I think there are 8-12 feet tall. They are very heavy and cumbersome. Fortunately we don't have to move them often, but they are hard for the kids to move. The wheels don't turn easily. I'm getting worried about this part of it. These are middle school kids, so they don't have a lot of mass to be throwing against this!

Wow. Ran through the whole show much faster than usual. I attribute this to my stage manager who has done this for years. She knows what's going on and she has some very good assistants. Experience makes a big difference. Also, the scenery for this play is huge! But, there are not that many individual scenes, so that helps. 

We run the set changes again. Scaffolding is going to be a major problem. We are going to need to change that at intermission. I hate that because I don't want to reveal the beautiful restaurant set too soon, but there's no realistic way around that. Gosh, I wish we had a proper grand drape--the curtain that closes in front of a stage. It would be nice. Thought about getting one for this show, but it was too expensive and we just upgraded our sound equipment. Maybe next year. 

Ran through set changes again. These kids are amazing. 11:30--Lunch break. After lunch the cast comes. We'll see how this goes...

Happy New Year, everyone! I hope you had enjoyable celebrations. We had a lovely time here at Mockingbird Cottage--a quiet evening with the family and good food. Just the way I like it. 
A few notes:
1. Just a reminder, I'm now answering comments in the comment section instead of via email. Just want you to know in case you think I'm ignoring your comments.

2. I'm working on an important post for next week MSM--an important trick I've found to getting adolescents to do what you want them to do. I don't have time to write it today, but do come by next week. I think it will be worth your while. 

In the meantime,  I thought I'd post some pictures from our last play (I do have permission from the parents of all the students, incidentally).

This fall, instead of doing one big play like any sane person would do, I decided to do two shorter plays. My intent was to create more opportunities for more kids. So, we did two one-hour plays as Act 1 and 2.  Sondheim's Into the Woods, Jr. and Disney's Aladdin Jr. 

I've been wanting to post pictures but haven't had time or energy until now. Here are some pictures from Aladdin. I'll get the Into the Woods batch up in another post. The story follows the Disney movie pretty closely with just a few minor modifications, mostly for the sake of time.

As always, I'm amazed at what committed middle school kids and supportive parents can pull off. It's really amazing! I have the most incredibly supportive and talented community. 

Here are the narrators, getting the show started with "Arabian Nights."

Princess Jasmine in the marketplace. 

Aladdin and Jasmine meet in the marketplace

Iago and Jafar

Close up of Iago. This girl was amazing! It's not easy to manipulate a puppet, and she did it so well, acting with the puppet and her own face. 

Aladdin gets thrown in the treasure cave.

Aladdin finds the lamp at the bottom of a big pile of treasure. I wish we had a better picture....oh well. 

Here's the Genie's appearance. We used a large CO2 fire extinguisher behind the treasure pile. It was cheap, easy, and very effective. Last spring, in The Wizard of Oz, the fog machines we used kept triggering the fire alarms, so this was a great alternative. You could use a number of these for bigger plumes of smoke. Great special effect tip! We just had to get it refilled between shows.

The Genie. Normally, he's a big, blue guy. But we had a small, pink, girl, and she was stellar. She lit the stage up every time she came on. For the staging in "Friend Like Me" we hired a magician to choreograph a magic show. That worked out really well. 

Some of the magic tricks in "Friend Like Me." Every night, I died when she did this trick. She tied a rope around her neck and pulled it tight--and it apparently slipped through her neck. It was impressive, but I was always terrified that she'd do it wrong one night!

Another magic trick--"Can your friends pull this out of a little hat..."

Aladdin meets the Flying Carpet. 

The start of the parade for "Prince Ali." We choreographed so that the kids crossed the stage, then doubled back and did it again. It gave the impression of a huge throng of followers. 

The Genie, Carpet, and Aladdin try to figure out to get a date with Jasmine.

Aladdin's transformation into Prince Ali was tricky. It's supposed to be something the Genie does magically. The script recommends turning out the lights and then bringing them back on, with Aladdin making a quick change. That seemed a bit obvious, but we weren't sure what else to do. So, our magician taught the Genie to make some of Aladdin's costume items "appear" magically out of an empty prop. Then she handed them to him and they went off-stage where he changed during the scene change. It worked really well. 

Aladdin, the carpet, and Jasmine and some dancers during "A Whole New World." Oh my goodness, could those two kids sing! They sounded so good--this Aladdin had a far more mature and rich voice than we usually see in middle school.

Nice shot of Iago and Jafar.

Aladdin, the Genie, and Jasmine in the finale

A few years ago, I realized something that fundamentally changed the way I approach middle school kids. In fact, if I had to pick one single thing to help explain middle school kids, this would be it (Do I say that every week? Well, this time I mean it.)

 When I was in 7th grade, if you had come up to me and said, "I have a loaded gun. Either sing a solo in front of the school or I will shoot you this second," I wouldn't have paused. I wouldn't have thought or hesitated. I would have said, "Shoot me now." I'm not being dramatic--I'm quite serious. I had a morbid fear of singing because I was afraid I would look stupid and be embarrassed and I truly would have chosen death over being embarrassed.

I remember this--and yet, I had forgotten it in dealing with my own students. Many middle school students are like me. They would almost rather die than be embarrassed or look stupid in front of their peers--as they define looking stupid. Different kids will be embarrassed by different things. But embarrassment is a BIIIGGGGG deal to them.

This is a pretty potent motivation and it explains a great deal about middle school behavior. It's at least part of why they are so prone to go with the pack. Talking to a middle school student about standing up against peer pressure is sort of like talking to a lemming about not following the crowd. There are some exceptions, but generally, that is just the way they are programmed and there are some pretty strong forces inclining them to this mentality.

You can fight this, you can lament it, you can curse it--but for most kids, it will not change. To some extent you can try to work around it. But this is a time when it's helpful to understand that you are dealing with a force of nature. 

The first year I taught chorus I tried and tried to get the boys to sing things in the right octave. They refused (and often still do). They were convinced that singing anything higher than the range of a gorilla sounds like a girl and they would rather die than be thought of as girly. There is no penalty I can give them that is stronger than that fear. They would rather have an F than to look stupid.

However--I have learned that I can work around it to some extent. For example, they're happy to be silly. So, if I sing in an opera-ish falsetto voice and make it clear that this is silly, not serious, they will follow. Often that's good enough. They hit the note and if enough of the girls are singing, you can't really tell it's the funny opera voice. Also, after a while, they get used to singing the high note and stop doing it in the silly voice. So, I work around it--but I have to understand that on a scale of 1-10, I'm only ever going to get a 7 at best.  

Note: a more powerful approach comes if someone tries this on their own just to be silly--it happens frequently. If I pretend I'm slightly annoyed, the rest will start doing it. This kind of back-door approach is generally far more effective than the straight-on option, although that can work, too. You just have to experiment and know your audience. For parents, the sneaky approach will almost always work better. Allowing them to feel like they are just slightly rebellious is a powerful motivator. I grant, however, that this is a tricky thing to do. But over time, you can learn to do this.

I've also found that while there are no penalties strong enough to motivate them, rewards sometimes, but not always, will. Tossing a starburst to a boy who accidentally sings a higher note, or giving them a few minutes of recess for the same reason will often reinforce the behavior I want because those are drives that are even more primal than the fear of looking stupid and being made fun of. Giving an entire group reward is especially good, because no one is going to make fun of the kid who just got recess for the whole group.

Another way to mitigate this is to remove the onus from them. Making clear rules about things that will allow them to say, "My mom's making do this" can be really important. It gives them the cover needed. One year, I had a very socially awkward student. She came to class all alone and sat by herself. No one wanted to be near her since she was socially radioactive. I assigned another girl to be her partner and share music. Once she had been assigned, the second girl was able to reach out and be nice to the first girl. But she needed the cover of being assigned to do it--that way it was all my "fault," and that gave her deniability with her peers.

Parents can provide a very important service by being scapegoats in this regard. 

For what it's worth, there are some gender differences here, I think. All of them, boys and girls are afraid of looking stupid. However, the way they process this, how they react, and what they define as looking stupid differs. I think I'll do a separate post on boys and girls at some point.

This will pass. Most kids begin to get a better and stronger sense of themselves and their own values as they get older--I see this begin to emerge in 8th grade frequently. By 10th, it seems to be much more developed (obviously, these are generalities). 

However, for adolescents, it is difficult to overstate this. Looking stupid is literally one of the worst fates they can conceive and they will do almost anything to avoid that. If you can master that concept and work around it, you have a decent chance at success. 

So, if you are interested in reading about the genesis for this alliterative, exciting new series, you can click here.

Today, I want to discuss something it took me years to figure out. It's quite simple, but can be transformative in how you interact with middle school students. At least it was for me. Here's the secret: middle school students can do much, much more than you think. At the same time, they are capable of far, far less than you expect. Let me explain.

When we do our school productions, they are run entirely by middle school students. The lights, the sound, the stage crew--all of these functions are run by students, but you would never know it. The audience would be astounded if they realized all the trouble-shooting and problem-solving that goes on. I am routinely surprised and delighted each year when I see how much they can do. Choreograph a two hour play with 180 kids? No problem. Oversee complicated set changes, lighting cues, while dealing with broken fog machines and touchy pyrotechnic devices? No problem. I've seen them edit newspapers, mentor small children run amazing plays on the court or field, organize two-day bake sales, raise $10,000 for cancer and so on and so on. 

They can literally do pretty much anything at this age. Except pick up their jacket or remember their book.

I go to rehearsals and performances and watch these kids pull of truly amazing, adult-level work. And then I walk through the halls and see the daily detritus of their lives: planners, notebooks, textbooks, jackets, even a pair of pants once. 

They can do big things when properly motived. But they struggle--tremendously--with little things. 

I'm not a psychologist, so I can't explain why this happens, but I know it does. Details and routine tasks are incredibly difficult for middle school kids to grasp. Some do it well, but they are exceptions and most really struggle with this. 

Consequently, messy rooms or forgetfulness on assignments or other mundane things is pretty common. When it happens, don't freak out. It's normal. It will pass. 

However, this doesn't mean you simply surrender and just wait for three or four years to pass. You don't need to do that. But, it does mean that you need to structure things differently and make some adjustments. I'll talk next week about how to help the student. But this week, I want to talk about things the parent or teacher or leader can do.

One of the most difficult things about this age group is that they look much older and mature than they really are. They are big--almost look like small adults. But they are incredibly immature in terms of emotional and cognitive development. They are big babies, puppies, as it were and if you are deceived by their physical maturity you will set yourself up for disappointment. 

Understanding that, you need to decide what is really important and then focus in on that like a laser and let the rest go. For example, if your child does his or her homework, letting the messy room go might not be a bad idea. Know the value of choosing your battles carefully and also of a tactical retreat.


Adults frequently focus on what the preliminary steps are to the desired goal. This doesn't work 
with middle school kids because you end up focusing all your efforts on getting them to do the first goal or two, and frequently you'll never get to the end result. 

Here's an example. When I first started teaching choir, I valued children sitting up straight by section and never talking. I decided that this was necessary to accomplishing my goal of having them sound good.  We never got there because I spent all my energy enforcing this since it is an unnatural arrangement for middle school kids. I became punitive and harsh about minor things. 

I finally learned that letting them sit where they want is a privilege they will work to maintain. I learned that enduring a little noise from the altos while I'm working with the sopranos made the overall class go much more smoothly. And I learned that giving up five minutes at the end of class to let them run around the gym or chat as a reward for doing focused work during the previous 40 minutes was more effective than forcing them to work that extra five minutes. 

I get what I want and they get something of what they want and everyone is much, much happier.

This post is already a little long, so I'll stop here. Next week, I'll talk some more about structuring things in a middle-school friendly way and some thoughts on motivation. 

I have been toying with the idea of starting a new feature here. Lots of people I know have clever, alliterative features on their blogs: Wordless Wednesdays and Festive Fridays and Thankful Thursdays and the like. I am not a) that clever or b) that creative. Plus, a lot of my friends who do this have something valuable to share, like my friend Elisa's amazing photos on Wordless Wednesdays, or author Annette Lyon's peerless grammar advice on Word Nerd Wednesdays. But see, Elisa and Annette have actual skills.

I don't want to give writing advice because lots of people do that and also, I feel like it's a craft I'm trying to master still, so who am I to tell everyone else what to do?

So, I've been thinking about my niche. I am the proverbial Jack of all Trades--I dabble in lots, but there's nothing I really stand out in (I'm being honest, not self-deprecating). Except one. 
I totally get middle school kids. I really do. And I'm a pretty good teacher, if I do say so myself. 

Since middle school is a place most of us remember about as fondly as gettting our wisdom teeth, there's not a lot known about it, and not a lot of people talk about it. 

So, I am going to be that person. Henceforth (or until I get bored) I am starting Middle School Mondays here on bradenbell.com. On MSMs I will blog about the curious creatures we call middle school students, providing thoughtful commentary, pithy anecdotes, and deeply helpful advice for troubled parents based on my 25 years (!!!!!!) working with this age group. At least that's my intent. 

Feel free to write in with your middle school questions. If you are a parent, maybe I can help you translate the strange grunts and squawks of your hitherto loveable child's bizarre new actions. I can help you understand the trajectory of your child's development and, if nothing else, help you have faith that one day, your child will return, a wonderfully mature and delightful, stable young man or woman.  If you are a middle school student, maybe I can help you see why your parents act the way they do. In other words, I can be your translator. All identities will be kept strictly confidential. You can send me a line here or just email braden at bradenbell.com

For today, I wanted to talk to parents about the value of silliness. 

Saturday our school had a big birthday bash. It was quite a day, complete with all sorts of festivities. One of the activities was face-painting. I didn't want my face painted. It's itchy and looks silly on men of my age and standing. But as I walked past the booth, some students asked me to let them paint my face. I have learned in these situations to agree to it. So, I sat down and had all kinds of glittery things painted on my face. I also had washable tattoos applied and a cat nose and whiskers.

This was not what I wanted. However, it amused the kids and it did me no harm. It bought me just a bit of credibility with those students and affirmed that I care about them. Next time I need to discipline one of them, it will be in the context of having a small bond. This is important if you are a youth leader or teacher or anyone in authority. 

Middle school kids LOVE to do stuff like this. It usually involves making you look silly. It will rarely be what you want to do. Do it anyway. Swallow your pride and just give in. Be a little silly. The more dignified and up-tight you are, the more value this kind of thing has.

One caution: this has to be kid-initiated. If I had run up and said, "Hey guys, paint my face!" they would have thought it was lame. You can't impose or initiate this. But be ready, when your child suggests some silliness or other to go with it. It pays off later, big-time. Also realize that what a student will suggest with a teacher or coach, he or she may be mortified if a parent does it. So be sensitive to that. 

Okay, and that's a wrap! Thanks for coming and tune in next time for another exciting installment of MIDDLE SCHOOL MONDAY!!!!!

I just signed the contract on our school's winter musical. This will define my life in many ways for the next six or seven months. So it's a big deal to me. Because some of my students and their parents read this blog I thought it might be interesting to talk through the process I went through and how I chose the show I did, since it's not a show that's done very much anymore--especially in middle school. Those who are fascinated by the world of middle school musical theatre are also welcome to read along.

The show is Hello Dolly. It's amazing to me how almost everyone I know over the age of 30 can at least hum or sing the first few lines of the title song, even if they've never seen the play or movie. Almost everyone under 30, unless they are a serious-Braden-style-musical-theatre-nerd has never heard of it. 

This is one of the first reasons I chose it. As a teacher, I see one of my fundamental jobs as exposing kids to material they would not otherwise engage with. My job is to show them what generations before have done with music and theatre. My students don't need me to appreciate Hairspray, Wicked, or Justin Bieber. They need me to take them places they wouldn't otherwise go and help them see the value in the questions and answers people grappled with in the past.

Hello Dolly is certainly not Shakespeare. It's not even The Sound of Music in terms of enduring merit. But it does capture a slice of Americana and I think it has some value as a window into the craft of 20th century American musical theatre. It's a well-made play, if not terribly innovative. It was box office smash--the Wicked of its day and I want my students to try to figure out why.

Now, for the more practical reasons. Our last play had 160 kids in it--students in grades 1-8. I need a play with large ensemble numbers in which young children can be featured. This excludes a lot of otherwise wonderful plays I'd love to do. 

For me, the greatest priority in choosing a play is to find one that will maximize the opportunities for the greatest number of students. I spend a lot of time looking at the kids I have and trying to find a play that provides opportunities. 

For example, I have a very talented group of kids this year--boys and girls. Somewhat unusually, I have several boys who can sing! So, I looked for a show that had leads for both males and females. That weeded several more shows on my short list out. I also have some talented actors who aren't strong singers and so I wanted to find a show with some good parts that didn't require a lot of singing. 

 I never pre-cast, but I have to consider things like vocal ranges and so forth. For example, this year  I have lots and lots and lots of altos and very few sopranos. So, even though I don't know who will get what I couldn't do a show that relied on having a soprano.

My older students--who are candidates for leads--have been involved in the theatre program for up to six years now. The know the basics and are ready for a challenge, so I wanted something do-able, but something that will push us. 

Finally, the show has to be appropriate for our younger students to come see. So there are considerations of content and theme. I'm fairly strict about what I think is appropriate for middle school kids to say/do/wear so this weeds a few more choices out. 

With all these parameters in mind, I start reading scripts and listening to cast albums. I go through a lot of these in the course of my search process. I make spreadsheets to keep track of how many parts each play has. I think about the technical demands it will put on us. And so on. I think and obsess and study and brood. And then I put it all away for a week or two. It percolates and bubbles. This is where the creative process actually begins. 

An idea will emerge--a few finalists. I look at them very carefully. Inevitably, one will rise to the top. My brain and my intuition will tell me it's the one. I'll listen to it carefully, read it again. Think about the kids I've got. And then, in a wonderful moment, I just "know." Somehow I know it's the one. And then, boom! I sign the contract and the business office cuts a check. 

Why do I like teaching middle school? And, is there a difference between boys and girls? Let me answer both of those questions. We're rehearsing for "Into the Woods." It's hard music and the kids have been focusing a long time, so I give them a break. 

The volleyball team practices before us, so the net and a bin of volleyballs are out. At the beginning of the break, a student says, "Can we play volleyball on the break?" "Sure," I reply. They start playing and I leave to get a drink and wash my hands from a nasty Dr. Pepper/Coke accident. 

I come in, maybe two minutes later. There is a blitzkrieg of volleyballs. The 5 boys are pelting each other. They are all over the gym, everywhere and nowhere, firing volleyballs at each other like some kind of possessed pitching machine. Every time one of them gets hit, there is a loud and long death scene. And then it begins again. How 5 boys can simultaneously fire 85 volleyballs is beyond me. But they're middle school boys. They can do anything.

3 girls are standing in a circle bumping a ball back and forth to each other as you would in a volleyball practice. They are focused and on task. 2 more girls are out in the hall exchanging secrets and talking about VERY IMPORTANT THINGS that require whispers, giggles, and frequent exclamations. 

How can I not love my job? From Sondheim to madness in two minutes. And in another two minutes, they'll be back to trying to figure out 9/8 time and getting their mouths around tricky lyrics. 

And the boys and girls? They are so different. So unique. They each have such strengths, so much they can contribute. I can't imagine my life or the world without middle school boys. I can't imagine my life or the world without middle school girls.