Drama, Drama, Drama

I wish my teaching experience could be all beaming smiles like those of my beautiful Advanced Chorus ladies in the photo above….

Unfortunately, the knuckleheads have to come to school, too. And they have to have a Fine Arts credit. And they get stuck in my beginning chorus class. And it’s fourth block, the wrap-up to the day. Erg.

So here’s the ridiculous thing that happened yesterday.

There’s this boy and girl in the beginner class, neither of whom possess one iota of interest in singing. Nothing unusual. But not too long after the semester started they decided they couldn’t live without each other, and it became progressively more difficult to keep them from breeding more morons right in the chorus room. And before you start throwing rocks at the teacher, remember I’ve got 12 practice room/studios off the main room, and at least half the locks are broken on the doors. I do what I can, but the CIA I am not.

Three days ago I noticed the two of them actually sitting on opposite sides of the room without being ordered to do so. Hmm. Strange. And then yesterday all heck broke loose. I’d disbanded rehearsal and asked the students to put away their books and folders (normal procedure) while I shut down the electric piano and stowed equipment. I heard a little bit of a ruckus in the back of the room behind the risers, which didn’t disturb me much—it’s a loud, rowdy class.

But the rumble grew to a roar, so I rounded the risers to see what was going on. There were my two lovebirds, Darryl and Shanquita, in a double headlock, with the two biggest boys in choir trying unsuccessfully to pull them apart. Hair pulling, dreadlocks flying, profanity that would singe your scalp. How could a love so right go so wrong?

Needless to say, we called for administrators, the two combatants were suspended, and classtime today was eerily peaceful. Hoo-boy.

Well, I press on.

From the Sublime to the Ridiculous

Yesterday one of my students walked into my office and shut the door. She’s a junior, a gifted alto who can sing everything from Mary Wells to Palestrina, and she has a younger sister, a freshman soprano, who’s equally talented. I’ll call them Tansy and Dalia just for the sake of discussion.

 

This is Tansy’s second year in choir; my introduction to Dalia came last May when she auditioned for Advanced Chorus. Dalia was nervous about singing by herself, so Tansy stayed with her. After the audition (which went very well), the girls asked if they could sing me an a capella duet that they often sing in church (they’re pastor’s daughters). I stood there with my mouth open and chillbumps running up my arms. I’d never heard anything so beautiful.

 

Fast-forward to this spring, when I was casting the Motown revue, which we’d been talking about doing for nearly a year. Tansy and Dalia’s parents put the hammer down on their daughters singing soul and R&B—and Dalia certainly wasn’t going to be allowed to dress up like Michael Jackson. I explained that we weren’t going to do anything risque, but no dice. Those beautiful voices were consecrated to the Lord.

 

I realize that sounds crazy to a lot of people, but I have to respect parents who maintain a commitment to spiritual boundaries even at the risk of disappointing their kids. So I agreed to allow Tansy and Dalia to write a paper in lieu of the Motown performances. But as the weeks passed, the girls must have worked on their mom and dad and gained the right to make their own decision about singing in the show. I wound up giving them both solos and parts in back-up groups, as well as the four or five pieces the whole choir sang.

 

They’re both natural performers, and Tansy brought down the house as Mary Wells. They even participated in the final performance on the day their older sister gave birth to a new baby, rushing off to the hospital after the final curtain.

 

Then…we decided to encore the show for a middle school which couldn’t make it on the original dates. Everybody was fired up about getting to perform for students and teachers from their alma mater—except Tansy. On Monday, I could tell something was bothering her. Then before class started on Tuesday, she asked if she could speak to me privately. She told me she hated to disappoint me and let her fellow students down, but she didn’t want to sing the Motown music anymore—that she would “lose her anointing” if she did.

 

I put those words in quotes judiciously. I don’t want anyone to think I’m making fun of her. Far from it, I take the idea of God’s anointing very seriously. I could have reassured her that singing a couple of catchy, innocent love songs will hardly ruin her life. But how could I presume to override what she feels God is speaking into her heart? This is a very strange and beautiful thing to me, when public education gets tangled up with faith. A teenager brave enough to risk the ridicule of her peers deserves my admiration, and certainly requires my sensitivity. 

 

Some might argue that talking about it here on an Internet blog is somewhat of an invasion of privacy. But I’ve learned something from this young lady, and I think it’s worth sharing. I’ve learned that I should listen to the Holy Spirit the first time He speaks, and not wait for Him to bang me over the head with guilt six weeks later. I’ve learned that the admiration of strangers is not worth the risk of damaging far more important relationships. And I’ve learned that one person’s influence spills over in all directions—to peers and younger siblings and even to those in charge of us. Remember Daniel, who influenced his generation—including the King of Persia—in the name of Jehovah? You just never know who’s watching.

 

Well, this little tale of “The Sublime” got kind of long. I’ll get into “The Ridiculous” tomorrow.

New Beginnings

It’s Resurrection Sunday! Christ is risen! He is risen indeed!

I’ll be spending the morning with my church family at First Baptist North Mobile. We’re having a glorious worship service filled with music and joy and fellowship. I play flute in our church orchestra, and making music with such a talented, Spirit-filled congregation is one of my dearest treasures in this life. If you don’t have a place of worship already, I hope you’ll join us at 9 AM or 10:30 AM.

Thanks again for stopping by—I’d love it if you’d leave a comment or reflection on what Easter means to you and your family.

Warmly,

Beth

Testing New Site

Would love some feedback on the new website I’m developing. Open for suggestions!

http://web.me.com/bethsquill/Beths_Quill

Susan May Warren’s Son’s of Thunder

Sophie Frangos is torn between the love of two men and the promise that binds them all together. Markos Stavros loves Sophie from afar while battling his thirst for vengeance and his hunger for honor. Dino, his quiet and intelligent brother, simply wants to forget the horror that drove them from their Greek island home to start a new life in America. One of these “sons of thunder” offers a future she longs for, the other—the past she lost.

From the sultry Chicago jazz clubs of the roaring twenties to the World War II battlefields of Europe to a final showdown in a Greek island village, they’ll discover betrayal, sacrifice, and finally redemption. Most of all, when Sophie is forced to make her choice, she’ll learn that God honors the promises made by the Sons of Thunder.

Read an excerpt here.

About Susan:

Susan May Warren is the RITA award-winning author of twenty-four novels with Tyndale, Barbour and Steeple Hill. A four-time Christy award finalist, a two-time RITA Finalist, she’s also a multi-winner of the Inspirational Readers Choice award, and the ACFW Book of the Year.

Susan’s larger than life characters and layered plots have won her acclaim with readers and reviewers alike. A seasoned women’s events and retreats speaker, she’s a popular writing teacher at conferences around the nation and the author of the beginning writer’s workbook: From the Inside-Out: discover, create and publish the novel in you!. She is also the founder of www.MyBookTherapy.com, a story-crafting service that helps authors discover their voice.

Susan makes her home in northern Minnesota, where she is busy cheering on her two sons in football, and her daughter in local theater productions (and desperately missing her college-age son!) A full listing of her titles, reviews and awards can be found at: www.susanmaywarren.com. Connect with Susan on Facebook here.

Buy the book here.

Enter Susan’s Memory Prize Pack contest:

Each one of us has a wealth of stories from the past – while they might not all be as sweeping and dramatic as that of Sofia and the Stravos brothers (swoon), your family history is a treasure nonetheless.

Well – let’s hear them! Were your great-grandparents ‘fresh off the boat’? Was your great uncle a war hero? Did your grandmother make unbelievable sacrifices to help or protect the family? Did your father harbor a family secret until his death? Are you related to someone famous (my assistant is related to presidents Harrison and Jackson – wow! Who knew?) Do you have a family treasure? Maybe you just have some lovely memories. Whatever it is that is unique in your family history – share it with us.

Have a photo to go with your story? Even better!!!! Email those to amy@susanmaywarren.com !

One grand prize winner will win a Memory Prize package containing a gift certificate to create your own hard cover photo book, a 6 month membership to Netflix (to satisfy that flick fix!) and a signed copy of Sons of Thunder! 5 runners up will also win signed copies of Sons of Thunder! Contest ends March 31st. Winners will be announced April 2nd.

TO ENTER THE CONTEST VISIT THE SONS OF THUNDER WEBSITE AND CLICK ON THE SHARE PAGE!

Mobile County Honor Choir

Mobile County Honor Choir 2010

I have taught in the Mobile County Public School System off and on for nearly twenty-five years. Like most people, I kind of have a love-hate relationship with it. You know, everybody thinks education is a good thing. We ought to encourage boys and girls to learn to read, write, and do enough math to become a good citizen. There’s a lot of disagreement about the outside details, though. (Do we teach them sex education? How much recreation and play time do they need? What percentage of time should be allotted for sports and the fine arts?) And how many stinkin’ tax dollars are enough to fund it?

My first experience was at Blount High School, which is traditionally an all-black school, not too far from LeFlore, where I teach now. At the time, the Birdie Mae Davis Civil Rights suit had just been settled with the agreement to relocate the entire faculty of Blount (who all  happened to be black) to other schools, and re-hire a half-and-half color mix. I was one of the white half.

The Boys After the Concert

It was an interesting year. I was assigned to teach four sections of ninth grade English (try teaching Romeo and Juliet to a bunch of urban kids who spoke a fine version of Ebonics), and one section of chorus. The chorus room was in such bad shape (no heat or air-conditioning, broken windows, mildew everywhere) that I simply moved the piano to my English classroom and entertained the whole English wing during 3rd period chorus. Though my English classes were an exercise in frustration, I discovered that my chorus students loved music and would try anything I handed them. I might still be at Blount today if I hadn’t had two babies in diapers back then, and it absolutely broke my heart to drop them off at daycare every day. My husband and I decided I needed to be home with them, so I taught piano lessons out of my home and did a part-time gig with the Dauphin Way Baptist Church children’s choir program. Good decision, looking back.

The Girls After the Concert

Anyway, by the time I went back to teach full-time after sending Ryan and Hannah off to the Navy and college respectively, my interests had drifted away from music toward creative writing. I needed a full-time job, so I took the Praxis exam and recertified to teach Language Arts. Found a job pretty quickly at Causey Middle School, where my relationship with Mobile County Public Schools took a swing to the dark side. I found myself doing daily battle with adolescent hormones, a portable classroom infested by chronic dust and roaches, a disorganized principal, and an insane amount of paperwork.

Um, no thanks. I finished out the year, then quit my job, enrolled in grad school at the University of South Alabama and taught Freshman Composition as a teaching assistant. Absolutely loved that year hanging out with college students. But with Masters in Creative Writing in hand, I started looking for a high school English job.

Which is how I wound up at LeFlore. They needed a chorus director worse than they needed a reading specialist (school had been in session for 4 weeks already), so the principal asked me if I’d be willing to take the music Praxis and get recertified [yikes, cramming music theory and history for two months!]. But I passed by the grace of God, and here I am doing what I’m born to do.

Rehearsal Day - The Girls

There are frustrating days, of course, but there are days like Monday and Tuesday of this week when I got to watch and listen to nine of my top students experience the joy of participating in County Honor Choir. The public school system has its problems for sure, but there are moments of shining glory when I wouldn’t want to be anyplace else. Imagine 140 gifted teenagers singing Randall Thompson’s Last Words of David…”Cantate Domino” by Hassler…Moses Hogan’s arrangement of “I’m Gonna Sing ‘Til the Spirit Moves in My Heart”…”Salmo 150″, which is a glorious, sort of Spanish-influenced piece in Latin.

Rehearsal Day - The Boys

I wish I could share the music, but these photos will give you a little flavor of the event. Maybe one day I’ll write a book, sort of my Lower Alabama version of Pat Conroy’s magnificent The Water is Wide.

But right now I’m too busy teaching music.

Appearance at Dauphin Way Baptist Church This Friday

My former church home—Dauphin Way Baptist Church in Mobile, Alabama—is hosting an expo this Friday, March 12, in their grand foyer. I’ll have copies of most of my backlist available for sale from 9 AM until 2 PM. However, since I have a full-time job, I’ll only be there to sign books from 9:30 until 11 AM (during my planning/lunch break). If you’re missing one from your “Elizabeth White” collection, stop by and take advantage.

I’m not sure what else will be going on that day, but it’s bound to be interesting! Dauphin Way is a wonderful church full of warm, community focused brothers and sisters in Christ—and the building they meet in is absolutely gorgeous.

Please come check it out!

Once in a Blue Moon by Leanna Ellis

My friend Leanna Ellis has a new book releasing this month, and I wanted to tell you about it. Here’s the scoop:

Once in a Blue Moon
ISBN: 978-0-8054-4988-4 B&H Publishing

Faith is the first step to soaring.

The day Armstrong stepped on the moon has special memories for most Americans, but not for Bryn Seymour. It’s the day her mother died. Despite death defying feats, guilt has always pulled Bryn down time and again. But a perfect love shows her taking a leap of faith is the first step to soaring. But it only happens … once in a blue moon.

About Leanna:

‘Leanna Ellis takes a back seat to no one,’ says Debbie Macomber. But Leanna hopes she allows God in the driver’s seat as she taxies her two children to and from all their activities, lets her menagerie of pets in and out … in and out …, figures out what to cook for dinner (or where to order takeout), and at the same time keeps those quirky characters in her head from bothering others. Winner of the National Readers Choice Award, Leanna writes quirky women’s fiction with a splash of romance. From a long line of southerners and patriots, she lives with her family in Texas.

To buy the book from Amazon click here.

To read an excerpt of Once in a Blue Moom, click here.

To check out Leanna’s website click here, and her blog here.

Anything Worth Having Is Hard to Get

…is a favorite “saying” of Grant Gonzales, the hero of my book Fair Game. He’s got a list of these adages he lives by, most of which get repeated during the course of the story. Some time I’m going to have to list those here, because they’re pretty entertaining.

Anyway, I was thinking about this particular one on Friday as I was returning to school on a yellow bus with my Advanced Choir. We’d just been awarded superior ratings at District Choral Festival, and we were all just giddy with relief and joy. It had been a hard week for us all.

I was plagued with migraines due to a lot of stress. Armardi was out two days with a stomach virus, and William got suspended for a day and a half as a result of a physical altercation. State basketball championships took Kyra to Birmingham for three days (a good thing, except she had to miss the choral festival). The band was involved in Black History stuff, taking several choir students out of class. And on and on it went. Rehearsal was interrupted constantly. And the music was consequently very bumpy all the way through Thursday.

No wonder I had migraines. I almost canceled the trip.

But….we persevered. By Friday choirtime, our two songs were sounding pretty fine. “Give Me Jesus” and “I’m Gonna Sing ‘Til the Spirit Moves In My Heart”—both very difficult pieces, but oh so worth the effort. Of course, sight-reading ate our lunch. We’ve got to spend more time practicing that.

Anyway, I treated my loud, excited bunch of teenagers to Baskin Robbins on the way back to school. Celebration is so sweet.

Slushie Tuesday

Sometimes you just need a treat—whether you’re good or bad, tone-deaf or a future Beyonce.

So I let my rowdy fourth-block beginner choir go next door to the gym concession stand, right in the middle of class, and plunk down their dollars for a plastic cup full of red-and-green sugary juicy ground-up ice. Turns your lips and tongue and teeth the color of a lizard. Terrible for the vocal cords. Bad for the waistline. Absolutely no nutritional value.

But hey, the kids were working hard for a change. Besides, I wanted one too.

So we all came back to the choir room and sipped our drinks and chanted the words of “Under the Sea” in syncopated rhythm. And you know what? I got more out of them in the last thirty minutes of class than I normally get in the whole block.

Lizard lips and all.