Sensitive Skin.

 

So yeah. I mean that title figuratively and literally. My actual skin is sensitive but then I myself can be pretty sensitive. Sometimes in a goodo way, sometimes not so much. Being overly sensitive tends to mean I’m fairly fab at noticing the subtleties of the moods of others but then it can also make me completely overreact because I’m too busy mind-reading to actually communicate.

The reason is that I feel everything very keenly. When I’m really happy I’m a bouncing ball of unstoppable, giggly energy. When I’m truly angry I’m a whirring, frowning, yelling mess. When I’m very sad I’m an apathetic, deflated, exhausted shell of a person. If you make me laugh, the mirth is authentic, if you send me love, I radiate it back tenfold. If you demonstrate your dazzling personality, I contentedly bask in the glorious glow and if you ask for my help, you’re damned sure to get whatever I can give. If however, you speak or act unkindly, selfishly or without compromise then yeah, childishly (and probs egotistically) or not I’m definitely going to retreat and withdraw behind my walls of misunderstood martyrdom.

I’d like to say that I’ve developed a thick skin as I’ve gotten older but it really isn’t the case. No matter what lies I tell myself about that -- one harsh word, an instance of intimidation or condescension, cold shoulders or people laughing at me rather than with me and bam, I regress into a sheepish fourteen year old stumbling through social drama. It is definitely the aspect of my educator-hat that I wish I had more control over too as I find it super hard not to take student behaviour to heart; whether it be attitude, rudeness or just plain old indifference. But it’s loved ones that have the highest potential for complete internal devastation on my part, perhaps because of the trust I’ve placed in them or the obligation that forces them to love me despite my faults. The impact others can have on my confidence, mood or overall happiness is just crazy sometimes and despite my efforts to counter or console I often can’t shake it for days.

Perspective is vital and I know in the grand scheme of things a few hurt feelings aren’t all that bad. I guess it just occurs to me very regularly that all of us have it within our power to bring positivity, compassion and the HappyChappy so maybe the next time you go to say something off the cuff or neglect another because you figure it isn’t important… stop and think how you would feel it if happened to you. The easily-sunburnt, psoriasis-suffering, tea-tree-oil-loving author of this post will be, I can promise you. 

Miss Spiteri's Opus.

I have the best job. I really do. I mean, sure, I have good days and bad days. Some are dazzling; brimming with accomplishment, pride, success and utter joy. Others are awful; full of difficulty, frustration, disappointment and dejection. But every job is like that. All of us have days where we just do not want to go (for whatever reason) and others that start out okay but turn to crapola so fast you simply can’t wait to get home. I’m not a fan of those days but I do enjoy the opposite feeling very much. Where the energy between staff and students (or even just within yourself) is chock-a-block with good vibes and you can see that you’re making a noticeable, measurable and glorious difference.

Had a rather big performance sitch with one of my schools last week but really, that’s nothing new. Music staff (and other faculties too) are always busy planning, prepping, rehearsing, crazy-admin-organising and performing at school events and the like. You can easily get bogged down in the stressors and logistical nightmares of these occasions; schools are very dramatic places. Students are variables. They can be energised, excitable, disciplined and reliable or -- like the reverse side of the same coin – apathetic, unfocused, inconsistent and sometimes damn disrespectful. Schools, as an entity within themselves, can be equally contrary; fraught with high drama and politics right alongside collegial chumminess and staff unity. It sounds crazy but sometimes I have to remind myself that we’re doing all this for the kids. You get so caught up in the rest of it that the fact you’re trying to showcase the wonderful, life-changing things music has to offer can get buried. 

I lose count of the amount of times I hear myself saying variations of this (with vastly contrasting degrees of eloquence, certainly!) to a student: “I understand where you’re at because I was the same.” And, in the process of explanation or assistance, I have memories that zap back into focus, detailing a specific point in my journey as a musician. A journey that still has many diversions, speed bumps and vast freeway-stretches ahead. I steadfastly believe my greatest teaching tool is empathy. Recognising where my student is on that arduous (but ultimately rewarding) passage that is musicianship. Remembering that I was inexplicably drawn to this art-form; that its supplementary importance ranks alongside oxygen and that my world without it is simply unfathomable. Having music play such a formative role in my life has undoubtedly shaped who I am today; the discipline required to learn an instrument and work at it, the nature of balancing technique and information equally with their more creative and expressive counterparts, developing the ability to encourage, support, rely on and listen to others (because for me, music is at its best when shared with an ensemble) and being constantly reminded of your place in the grander scope of this universal medium that facilitates introspection, communication and reflection for humanity.

If I can see the students I teach afforded (via music) the same glimpse into this larger world that I was fortunate enough to have been given, then even on those shocking what-on-Earth-am-I-doing-why-do-I-even-freaking-bother days I can contentedly recollect how lucky I am to be a music teacher.