Alternate Title: Cognitive Dissonance and Discord in the Key of H.

June is a challenging month for me. In a really counter-intuitive way, for June is traditionally a month of celebration– June brides, convocation and graduation traditions, the end of the school year (you may, depending on your age, be hearing AC/DC lyrics in your head). While all of those things are still true for teachers, along with the ceremony, there is also melancholy– saying good-bye to the students you’ve spent the year with, and often wishing colleagues farewell as school staffs are re-configured, careers wind down, and new chapters are begun.

Earlier this week I attended a celebration– the end of a 38 year teaching career.  The honouree has served our school district as a teacher, a coordinator, and an administrator. Her retirement party was held in a hotel banquet room overlooking the bay, and the attendees included teachers, administrators, friends and family.  The celebrations included speeches and toasts, theatrics, shared food and stories.  Oh…. and karaoke.

Because her career had begun as a music teacher, karaoke was not a surprising request. What was surprising, to me, (and of course, this is about me….) was that for the first time in my life, I participated in an activity that for most of my life terrified me.

It all begins with a story that I have enjoyed telling over the years. But much like my mixed feelings about June, the story is not without its bittersweet component.

I don’t know why, I’m sure I could figure it out with a few dozen years of psychotherapy, but in any event, I have a lifelong fear of singing in public.  Well, that’s not quite accurate– I’m not afraid to sing, but am certain my singing is not for public consumption.  What is the aural equivalent of “unpalatable”? Whatever that appropriate vocabulary, my feeling is deeply entrenched, and has provided years of queasiness at the opening bars of the national anthem, and the dichotomy of loving to be the centre of attention but terrified at the thought of performing as a solo singer.

So on the night in question, as the karaoke machine was wheeled in after dinner, I got the sinking feeling I had experienced so many times before, knowing I would decline participating in a fun activity.  At the same time, I received this text message:

There were a variety of reasons why I got up and joined my friend at the front (a friend who was a classically trained singer, who had performed on stage many times in a variety of roles, who had an ear for music and flare for drama) and I realized I needed to trust not only my friend, but also the roomful of colleagues, and I took the opportunity to tell this story. I’m paraphrasing certainly, but imagine, if you will, gentle reader, you have joined this friendly gathering on a warm summer evening and contemplated my debut.

“So just before we begin our serenade, I want to take this opportunity to tell a story.  It seems appropriate to share it here.  All of my life, I have had a complete lack of confidence in my ability to sing.  I don’t know why or where it comes from, but it’s always been a big stumbling block for me.  When I started teaching, one of my first jobs was in a primary classroom, and I knew I had to sing with the kids.  It was a big part of the job, I knew I had to do something about it, so I had the idea to get singing lessons.  I found a very sweet lady who agreed to see what I had to work with.  I met her, she ran me through a few scales, and made her determination. ‘Well, you aren’t tone deaf’, she said, ‘but I think there is only so much I can do for you, so I am just going to charge you half.’  True Story.”

As the laughter died down, and our first song was queued up, I realized I was living my learning– we ask children to take risks all the time, in all areas in which they lack confidence. We, my duet partner and I, didn’t know it, but we were going to get an extra lesson in learning lessons… the Karaoke operator chose our first song for us– apparently suitable to the occasion, at least by title.  We stepped up to the monitor, each with a mic in hand, and looked at each other blankly as the opening bars of a song neither of us had ever heard began to play. Much like being called in to teach a class with no plan prepared, we looked at each other, grinned, and did what teachers do– did our best to wing it.

Fortunately, my debut was recorded.

Lagniappe:

Sing along!

Teacher’s pet (pa dumb pa dumb pa dum)
I want to be teacher’s pet (pa dumb pa dum)
I want to be huddled and cuddled as close to you as I can get
(That’s the lesson we’re guessin’ you’re best in)
Mm, teacher’s pride (pa dumb pa dum)
I want to be teacher’s pride (pa dumb pa dum)
I want to be dated, paraded, the one most likely at your side
(Ya got a burnin’ yearnin’ to learn)
I want to learn all your lips can teach me
One kiss will do at the start (are you really?)
I’m sure with a little homework
I’ll graduate to your heart (to your heart)
Teacher’s pet (pa dumb pa dum), I want to be teacher’s pet (pa dumb pa dum)
I want to take home a diploma and show Ma that ya love me, too
(That ya love me, too)
So I can be teacher’s pet long after school is through
(Oh, teacher’s pet) Mm, mm
(You want to be teacher’s pet) Ah. ah
(You want to be huddled and cuddled as close to him as you can get)
I want to learn all your lips can teach me
One kiss will do at the start
I’m sure with a little homework
I’ll graduate to your heart
Teacher’s pet (you love the teacher), I want to be teacher’s pet (pa dumb pa dum)
I want to take home a diploma and show Ma that ya love me, too (Wow!)
So I can be teacher’s pet (yeah!) long after school is through
(Teacher, teacher she loves you)