Beethoven Revisited - the Establishment of a DREAM

I'm flying high. Naturally. Today was my first day of class. I am officially a teacher.

I can actually tell people I'm a music teacher now. Hahaha! The incredible feeling of self-worth that comes with that is almost overwhelming.

I dressed in my teachery best (which isn't very fancy, it's just teachery). Striped button-down, cami underneath, nice earrings and necklace, black slacks. Hair nicely coiffed, makeup on. I'm ready for my closeup, Mr. Demille.

And, wonder of wonders, the band director assigned my section to the band hall. It was completely surreal. I remember the dreams I had to be the one on that podium full-time. The dream has passed, but the wonder of it remains. There I stood, in front of a large section of Bb and bass clarinets, on the band director's podium. They had their full attention on me. Some with the expected high school irreverence, some with almost worshipful posture and attention. And just for a moment, I panicked.

I had this momentary lapse, a second of doubt. Why am I here? Who honestly thought I was qualified to do this? To teach? To instruct? To guide in the theory and performance of music? And for that moment, I was scared that they'd see right through me. To a person who is just now gaining back her own embouchure and ability. To a person who let music slide for years on the silly reasons of busyness and irritation at an old crotchety teacher. What business did I have standing in front of them?

But then the moment passed when I realized that if they could see through to that, then they could also probably see the love I have for music, the relationship that began when I was very young, a passion that still burns today. One that, unlike so many other passions, is not tempered by busyness or crotchety teachers or anything else, but simmered just below the surface, ever present, waiting to be stoked again. Because even in those music-less times, I would look longingly at my piano, hear my favorite pieces in my head. And in those rare moments that I stole to tinkle the ivories, I was set free, and the passion was reignited and burned stronger.

What can you say about that, except that of course it had to overrule any insecurities I might have?

And all I can say is Thank You God, because the four students I asked for to be interested in private lessons blossomed into six eager girls that pounced the moment the class was over. And, God willing, by the end of the week they will be set up for private lessons to the tune of of heck of a lot of money. Yippee!

You see, this is perfection. The ability to draw in funds that will forward your domestic plans while doing something that you love so much that you'd do it for free. That is the nature, I believe, of a calling. And with these funds I can see our financial goals' time lines being cut in half, the end of waiting forever for those insurmountable checks on the to-do list.

And the silly thing about it is, all I can think about is how much fun I have teaching, and how it should be considered a sin that I have so much fun and still take their money.

And I consider it a sign that I didn't hit one red light on the way to the school. Not one.