Metaphorically speaking, this semester I've felt like a pot that's been filled with water and set on the stove to boil. With a full studio at the university, a growing private studio, church job, and grade school children starting extracurricular activities, the pot was filled to just below the brim. Further, due to an usually busy summer, in which I was single parenting most of the time while Aleks was training and painting as many surfaces in my house as possible, this fall the water was already at a simmer.
There's not one contributing factor that I can blame for the struggle I've felt in these last few months. A combination of trying to balance more than I am capable, not enough "off" time, and a consistent diet of frustration with excuse-filled students wore me down. Any unexpected setback, difficulty, or small challenge caused the pot to boil over.
I'm not typically a crier and I found myself in tears as I drove to work the first two weeks of the semester. The smallest triggers could set me off. Things such as, but not limited to:
Anyone asking "how are you?"
Not the customary "how's it going" that you say to everyone while expecting "good" in return, but the probing, thoughtful, what's going on below the surface "how are you?" would cause my throat to ache and eyes to fill. Once from a student who added "I just feel like I don't know what's going on in your life recently," once from Ruby's teacher, and once from a new colleague.
Anytime anyone did something remotely thoughtful.
I was teaching lesson while Aleks was out of town, and of course (Murphy's Law) Maia had no school and it was the morning, so I had both girls with me at work. I had bribed them with new lego sets and they were sitting on my office floor quietly putting them together. Another student of mine came to sit in on the lesson and brought a bag of Hershey's hugs with her. She quietly gave some to my kids while I continued teaching and out of the corner of my eye, I saw her gently place two candies on my desk. That tiniest act of kindness pierced my heart and I had to swallow my tears as I tried to teach.
Emotional music theater songs.
A high school student of mine was singing "With You" from Ghost and the chord progressions with the melody set me off. I grabbed a tissue as my nose filled with snot and tears streamed down my cheeks, saying "I'm fine, I've just had a rough day, but I'm fine. Let's keep going." In truth, I cried through no less than 3 lessons this semester. You'd think I would have gotten more "how are yous" from concerned students, which would have just made it worse, but thankfully (?) no one inquired further.
Anytime I see videos of people publicly appreciating or getting into Hamilton/Lin Manuel Miranda.
There's just something about seeing this composer and performer being recognized and celebrated for his hard work that tugs at my heart strings. I think that the fellow artist in me is just rejoicing with his success. All the hard work and perpetual improvements we make don't always pay off in a way that is nationally applauded. It's nice to see it happen.
Getting a free massage.
Last year I decided to get a massage once a month. I have a private student whom I've decided is my "massage student" and their lesson fees pay for my monthly massage. In November, I excited the room relaxed and bleary eyed in the bright sunshine where my masseuse informed me that there was no charge for my massage that day. My eyes filled with tears and I gave her a big hug; the timing was uncanny. Apparently I had earned my free 12th massage after getting one a month for a year. I tried to pull it together as I scheduled my next one with the receptionist. To this day, I'm still embarrassed when I see her working the front desk.
Generally, what it all boiled down to, was a feeling of being under-appreciated. Anytime I asked a student to do something and they came in the next week with excuses as to why they hadn't done what I asked, it felt as if they didn't respect me. When private students cancelled the day of their lesson, it started to become hard to keep my cool. When things were sprung on me last minute, my ability to be flexible and accommodating was greatly reduced. The inept communication skills with some people left me banging my head on the wall, while over communication with others sent me into a tailspin. When it's one or two students who are making things tough, it can be managed, but when it's 10 or 15 (roughly 1/3 of my students), it starts to wear on a person.
There was a subtle shift in the perception of my situation during the last weekend of October. I went to NATS, which was held 5 hours away in Nebraska and made the trip alone. During the drive I listened to the soundtrack of Hamilton in its entirety. Twice. It was a weekend of singing competition and I was able to see teachers from other universities, most of whom I only get to see once a year. This time, more than any other, I was struck with how many of us voice teachers are in a similar position. Adjuncting at several universities, trying to raise a family, and be relevant as a performer. It's an understatement to say how good it was for me to see that. And to realize that maybe it's not so bad.
After that weekend I got rid of some extra baggage in my private studio and lowered my expectations for the college students. The water in my metaphorical pot reduced. I hired house cleaners. The water receded even further.
Fall semester is now over and I made the decision not to teach privately over the break. So five empty weeks stretch before me. I literally feel lighter and emptier. Of course there is still housework and volunteering at schools, the madness of the holidays, a church job, and parenting to keep me busy, but I will get a much needed break from the thing that requires the most energy and vast emotional investment.
Aleks and I watched Inside Out with the girls a few weeks ago. What a good reminder it was that without sadness there can be no joy. I know that this challenging season will serve me in the months to come. It will help give perspective and already has helped me to see what I have to be thankful for.
Coincidentally, this is the first year we celebrated Hannukah with the girls, a celebration of lights and miracles. As a result, I've been more mindful of the things that fill my life with wonder. I haven't seen one of those old testament, biggie miracles like oil lasting for 8 nights, but I do on a daily basis witness smaller, unconventional ones. Like when Ruby decides to roll over and go to sleep instead of throwing a tantrum because her sheets aren't warm yet. Or how my husband and I still like each other. Or anytime someone chooses to do the right thing, even though it might be hard.
Or kindness. Actually, I might consider that one of the biggies.
