As another school year is about to begin, I find myself thinking about a very powerful learning moment for me which did not occur in the hallowed halls of Carthage College or in any other school of higher education- but rather in the music room at Somers Elementary School, where my young niece Lorelai was in kindergarten. She was blessed to have as her music teacher someone who was and will always remain something of a legend when it comes to elementary music in Kenosha: an almost impossibly energetic and skilled teacher to whom all kinds of teachers have turned for guidance and inspiration, Sandy Lindgren. It turns out that Lorelai’s timing was impeccable, because her first year at Somers School would prove to be Sandy’s last. Like a lot of superb teachers who might have gone on teaching in the happier days of yore, Sandy has opted for early retirement – a decision which I know touched off some weeping and wailing amongst parents and teachers alike, but which she felt was the right decision for her.
At some point late in the spring, it occurred to me that I would never forgive myself if I didn’t at least try to see Sandy Lindgren teach- and fortunately, she was willing to have me observe one of Lorelai’s music classes – and we both agreed that it would be even more fun if it was a complete surprise. So on a warm Tuesday afternoon in early June, I arrived about ten minutes before Lorelai’s class was scheduled to enter the music room- and just the bewildered look on Lorelai’s face at seeing her Uncle Greg there made it all worth it. Then Mrs. Lindgren announced to the class that I was “a famous Kenosha musician,” at which Lorelai very promptly piped up “He is not!”
So much for honoring your elders. 🙂
Sandy had said that I could do anything I wanted with the class – play something on the piano, sing them something, tell them a story – but I sincerely felt like any time with me in the spotlight was time with Sandy that these youngsters would be losing. So I told her that I really wanted to just listen and watch – and at the end, if there was time, I would share a quick little story. And that’s what I did, settling in and watching Sandy teach. Of course, I knew something about elementary music because I’m married to a very skilled and gifted music teacher, and I’d certainly had plenty of opportunity to watch Kathy do what she does so well. But this was my chance to see a very different teacher in action and experience a very different sort of excellence.
And I was not disappointed. It was really fascinating to see Sandy teaching in a way that was perfectly in keeping with her sunny, positive personality – yet with a sly sense of humor that made it so entertaining to watch. And I was very impressed (though not a bit surprised) that she was giving 100% to the task at hand and in no way coasting to the end of her final school year. In fact, if someone stepped into that classroom without knowing anything about this person, they would never have guessed that this was a teacher on the brink of retirement. I think my favorite part of the class was when she played a game that I think she called Teacher vs. Students. She would taped up on front blackboard a series of rhythmic patterns, and the challenge to the class was to read those patterns out loud in unison. Before each one, Sandy would say something about how this particular set of rhythms was especially tricky and she was pretty sure they wouldn’t get this one right. And then each time as she painstakingly double checked what they had just done – you could hear a pin drop, so quiet were those students as they waited for the verdict – she would suddenly stomp her foot in mock despair that the class had beaten her yet again- and of course the students erupted with cheers each and every time, so proud and pleased that once again they had “beaten” the teacher.
By the way, I did get to tell my story towards the end of class, and I put it together to try and make a point about Sandy’s impending retirement without saying anything too overt about it. (I was pretty sure that none of the students knew about her retirement.) So I told a story about a fictitious music teacher named Mrs. Likes-Music-A Lot who was going to be teaching someplace else the next year —- and several kids got together at recess to talk about what they should give her as a gift. Each day, one of them would come to school with what they thought was the perfect gift: one of them came Monday with a fancy piece of blown glass that they’d “borrowed” from the hutch at home… the next day someone came with a giant-sized chocolate bar, which melted in the heat… the next day someone came with a $100 bill that their grandparents had given them for a very special gift… but none of those proved to be the right gift – and when Mrs. Likes-Music-A lot caught wind of the students struggling to find her a special gift, she took them aside and explained that the very best gift that they could give her was to love music for the rest of their lives. And they all promised that they would. I had visual aids that I pulled out of my bag, including all of the aforementioned “gift” (including the giant-sized candy bar that had indeed melted in the summer heat) and the kids seemed to listen pretty attentively. . . and I hope that they took the moral of the story seriously.
I have to admit that the story was inspired by a moment at Carthage in the spring of 1999, when the Carthage Choir performed with the Racine Symphony Orchestra for one of the last concerts the choir did with their longtime director, Dr. John Windh. Towards the end of the concert, orchestra general manager Jeri Smith took the microphone to say a few words about Dr. Windh and his magnificent legacy with the choir – and then she turned to face the members of the choir, standing on the risers behind her, and told them in no uncertain terms that if they loved Dr. Windh and appreciated what he had given them, by far the best way they could express their appreciation would be for them to keep singing: in community choirs, in church choirs, wherever they could. That was the best of all possible thank you’s. And when I think of all the Carthage grads out there like my wife, Polly, Leslie, Jeannie, Ted, Jon, Dawn, Liz, Brian, Paula . . . just to name a few who immediately come to mind. . . who are singing their hearts out to this very day and/or inspiring the music-making of others, I can’t help but smile at how Dr. Windh’s legacy lives on in amazing ways.
Sandy is such a teacher with a similar sort of legacy, not only in the countless students she has taught, but also in all of the student teachers with whom she has worked over the years. And in this current atmosphere in which teacher- bashing has become too many people’s favorite sport, it’s never been more important to celebrate the great teachers among us and the difference they make in so many children’s lives.
pictured above: Sandy Lindgren beginning music class. Notice that the students are standing on risers- and they stood for the vast majority of the class, without complaint. My niece Lorelai is in the second row from the back, on the right end of the row.