Personal experience

Storytime: Police Stories

Over the years, I would share stories with my students. They really enjoyed my police encounter stories. I’ve consolidated all of them (I think) here.


Three cops in front of Salem house during father-in-law July 4th visit. 

It was my second 4th of July parade at Eastern HS in Pekin, IN. That parade is the longest, continuous July 4th parade in the country. 

This time, I’m married. And Joan’s dad is coming to visit.

I drove to Pekin (11 miles from Salem) to open the building but realized I had forgotten my school keys. There was not enough time to drive back to Salem to get them, so I went to a janitor’s house in Pekin. The janitor wasn’t there, but his wife was. I asked if I could borrow the school keys. She was very nervous about lending them out, but made me promise to bring them back immediately after the parade. Of course.

But, I forgot. The parade ended, the band put their stuff back in the school, I locked up and headed to Salem for dinner with Joan and her dad. I was almost there when I realized I still had the keys.

I rushed back to Pekin, over speed — and upset with myself, profusely apologized for being late with the keys, and then raced back to Salem. 

I passed a car on the railroad tracks on the way into town but didn’t think much about it.  I went three quarters around the courthouse square and up the slight hill that would take me to my neighborhood. I saw the police car parked on the side of that road, knew I was speeding, and concluded I’d be pulled over. I waited for the lights, but didn’t see any, so kept going. 

As I was preparing to turn into the driveway of my house, there were suddenly THREE police cars (two local and one state trooper) behind my car with lights flashing. Not only was I making a great impression for the neighbors, but the large picture window in our living room offered a great view for Joan and her dad. GULP!

Only the local cop directly behind me got out of his car and came up to my window. 

“Sir, I noticed that you passed a car on the railroad tracks and I was going to pull you over to talk about that. But, when I got turned around, I couldn’t catch you. And, then, you passed another car very quickly. They couldn’t catch you and called for backup. Are you okay?”

Once I explained who I was, i.e. a band director involved in the Pekin parade and the issue with the keys, he didn’t forgive me…..but he didn’t ticket me either. 

The police left and I got to go in and discuss my terrifying first impression on my father-in-law.


“Did you forget to pay for your gas?”

This event happened in Huntington….and, once again, Joan’s dad is visiting. 

In the 80’s, we had a Ford Conversion Van that was great for traveling with two young sons. It was not good on gas but had two gas tanks with a switch inside to go from one to the other. It could take a while to fill the tanks, so if I was at a station that had two pumps close enough, I would put a nozzle in each tank. 

This was prior to “pay-at-the-pump”, so I would normally finish up and go inside to pay. I would tell the cashier I had “pumps 1 & 2”, but most of the time they already knew that. 

On one particular day at a station just a couple blocks from our Vine Street home in Huntington, I can not recall whether I failed to ask or notify about the two pumps. I should have known there was a problem with the amount, but my mind really wasn’t there, for some reason. One of those reasons could be that Joan’s father was visiting. (Note: that he was visiting during my Salem story.)

From the gas station, I went home and was in our living room with Joan and her dad when there was a knock at the door.

The local policeman simply asked if I had forgotten to pay for my gas. I explained to him that I had, but then together we figured out I had paid for one of the pumps, but not both. I assured him I would take care of it immediately. And I did.


Don’t Mess With Texas

I was pulled over three times in thirty minutes.

The Fund Raising Association to which my company (QDP Corporation) belonged had its annual meeting/convention was in Houston Texas. I drove my 1978 Ford Conversion van and transported 5-6 other people. It was a comfortable way to travel and cheaper than buying that many airline tickets. 

The convention ended at the end of a day (@5pm) and after loading up, we departed for the drive home. With multiple drivers, the plan was to drive through the night. 

It was late into the evening when I noticed a police car going the other way on the highway make a u-turn after it had passed me. I didn’t think I was speeding, but as he caught up with me and turned on his lights, I pulled over. It was a town marshall who wanted to point out that I had a rear tail light out. No ticket. I assured him I would get it fixed — and we were on our way. 

A few minutes later the same thing happened. U-turn, flashing lights, and a pullover. This time it was a city policeman (I don’t remember the city). Same conversation. Same assurance and we were off again. 

Within thirty minutes from the first stop — it happens again. This time it is a Texas Ranger. He asks me to step out of the van and takes me to the back to show me the light out. This time I asked where I could get a light bulb this time of night. He said there was a truck stop a few miles ahead. I assured him we would stop. No ticket. 

At the truck stop, we purchased the bulb and a screwdriver and made the repair. As we pulled out of the truck stop, the Texas Ranger was parked across the street. He did not pull me over again.

I did buy a “DON’T MESS WITH TEXAS” t-shirt at the truck stop.


A CDL helped….for a while, it seemed

For a few years at QDP Corporation, we had a large enough delivery truck that a driver had to have a “CDL” (Commercial Driver’s License). It required renewal more often than a regular license, but during the years I had one, I did not get a ticket when driving my car, even though I was pulled over multiple times. 

It seemed like such a reasonable amount to pay for “ticket insurance” that I kept it going even after we sold that truck and I no longer needed it. But my luck finally ran out…and then it was worse. 

I was required to go to a driver training session. It was run by a State Trooper and nearly all of the participants were truck drivers, complete with beards, bellies (I have that one covered) and a temperament that looked like they were ready to throw their chair at the Trooper. 

After that, I allowed my CDL to expire and went back to a regular Driver’s License. 

I’ve had a few speeding tickets over the years, but most of my violations are for not slowing fast enough coming into a town. I would turn off the cruise when the speed limit dropped, but would not always touch the brake and, therefore, if it dropped too quickly from 55 to 45 to 35….I would still be going too fast. 

I do better now and haven’t had a ticket for several years.


Note: the remaining stories happened while I was teaching in Huntington


Nearly fired on the first day on the job?

My sons were in the bands between 1995-2001. During a Band Parent meeting, I let the director, Thaine Campbell, know that I had been a band director, was a clarinetist, and would be happy to help any way I could.  

He started using me as a clarinet and woodwind sectional person during band camp. After my sons graduated, he added me to the “paid” staff for camp. 

I was hired in the summer of 2005 as the part-time Asst Director. My first day on the clock was the first day of band camp. I was continuing to run sectionals, and on the first day of camp, the clarinets were with me in one of the special ed rooms.

A tradition that we had (which I had started earlier as a band parent volunteer worker) was to “nickel” the clarinets of the rookies.

NOTE: A nickel fits perfectly inside the barrel of a clarinet. It completely blocks the airflow and it is impossible to play. The ‘joke’ would happen when I would ask the group to play. Most of the rookies would react immediately and quickly figure it out. But others would fake playing, which we all knew they could not. 

I asked the rookies to set their instruments in their chair and to go out into the hallway with the section leader for a few minutes. The section leader (usually a senior) was to tell them about expectations for camp, learning music, etc. 

While the nickels were being inserted, the classroom door starts to open. Not wanting the rookies to re-enter too soon, one of the seniors ran over and slammed the door shut. When we finished, we opened the door for the students to return.

A minute or so after that, the principal, the resource officer (or someone in uniform), and a teacher were coming into the room with walkie-talkies raised, ready to call for backup. The teacher for that room had come into the school and was opening the door to her classroom when it was “slammed in my face”. Yes, it was. 

The seniors took over and explained that it was a long-standing tradition and they misunderstood the door opening. Yes, they were protecting me. They could have said it was a tradition I started and a prank I was overseeing. 

I bet that was a story often told during the rest of that band camp day. It certainly became one of my favorite “Storytime” stories.


Caught with a drum

The community chorus has been performing Handel’s “Messiah” every December for decades. Over the years, they have borrowed risers, music stands and lights, and timpani from the high school to supplement what they are able to get from the university.

I got a call requesting the use of just one of our timpani. I took my minivan over to the high school, backed it up close to the service doors, opened the back, and went inside to the band room. As I was rolling the timpani down the hallway toward the service area, I noticed a policeman standing just outside Door 34. 

I went over and opened the door for him and immediately had to answer the question, “Who are you and what are you doing?”

All was well.

He explained that it looked suspicious to see a vehicle backed up to the large service doors with the back opened.


Surrounded in the parking lot

My report time for school has usually been after 5A lunch (about 12:15pm). Sometimes I stop on the way and pick up something for lunch. And since this was a marching band rehearsal day, I was parking in the west lot (tennis court side). From where I was sitting, I could see students in the cafeteria. It would be a great observation spot for someone with ill intent during student lunch.

It wasn’t unusual to see a police car come around from the front of the building. They do periodically patrol the parking lots, especially when they are looking for a particular car or checking parking stickers. 

But then, I noticed this police car had stopped almost touching my rear bumper. About the time I saw the officer getting out of the car, another car pulls up and pins me in from the front. And then a third car. 

I showed my school ID, explained my start time to work and they seemed satisfied and left. Apparently someone had called 9-1-1- from the area of the parking lot. Ok. Yes. I would want them to check that out. 

It made a great “Storytime With Mr. G. story in band rehearsal.


Police and Bubble People

Over the years I have been pranked several times. Even though I have no trees, I’ve been Tee-peed multiple times (students were careful to lay the paper in ways that it was easy to clean up). They have chalk arted my sidewalks and driveway, window painted both house and van windows. They filled my car with balloons. At school I was even plummed (several hats with plumes on my desk).

The most organized and persistent group was “The Bubble People”. They army manned the porch and yard with those tiny green toy army men and vehicles, saran wrapped the front and back doors to the house, and would leave “notes” on my home or on my desk at school. I really struggled with finding out who they were. No one would “rat” them out. I don’t remember how I got the first couple names, but over time, was confident that I had discovered the group.  Flute players. Of course. 

I contacted a police officer I knew and asked for help getting even. He brought a friend, and so, during a rehearsal one day, a pair of police officers came into the room. I read a list of names and asked those students to step into my office. I went in with the police officers and we closed the door. 

(I’ve wondered what the rest of the band students were discussing during this time. They were very quiet — probably trying to listen).

One of the officers started reading off “charges”…..

You are in violation of statute 1234.B and statute abcd.x.”

The girls were getting anxious. When one of the officers unhooked his handcuffs, one of the girls broke down and the officer confessed, “Sorry, Mr. Gardner. I cannot continue…..”

I think my only response to the group was, “GOTCHA”. And they went back to class. I told the group:

“I just want you to know that I can take a joke. 

As long as you are not disrespectful, and no property or individual is hurt, 

I can take it. But know this. I also try to get even. And you have now witnessed an example.”

 

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2 days of Jury Duty

Jury duty

2 days of jury duty in the books. With 6 felonies and one habitual offender conviction, this one out-of-town drug thug who made the mistake of bringing his stuff to our town, will be off our streets for the next several decades.

Kudos to the observant patrol officer who pulled him over before he reached his destination. He was significantly and specifically trained, prepared and a well-spoken witness and, along with the detective who did a deep-dive on a device and the state police lab technician who tested everything — wow.

The prosecutor organized it all for us. What a case. I hope I don’t have to pass a quiz on drug jargon.

I was also impressed with the judge (husband is the sheriff), pleasant and soft-spoken but totally in control, including communicating well with the jury — and spending time with us after the case to express thanks and answer questions.

The bailiff was helpful with my mobility challenges.

There was a surprise (and very short) second trial. The jury was surprised as we were told to bring our jury notebooks with us back into the courtroom as we were delivering the verdict. Once the verdict was pronounced, the judge informed us that, we couldn’t be told in advance, but now must make a determination whether the defendant is a habitual offender. That didn’t take long.

Hopefully, by the next time I’m called for jury duty, the county will ensure ADA compliance in its courthouse, as it took steps to get into the jury box and even into the two restrooms I used on the 3rd floor. I may be contacting some county politicians.

ps…. some of the excuses used to be excused from duty:

No, I don’t like the police. I’ve been in trouble with them before.

No, I won’t consider circumstantial evidence.

I know a hopelessly addicted addict.

My medication makes things go blurry and also makes my hearing come and go.

‘Maybe’ I can consider circumstantial evidence. ‘Maybe’ I don’t have a problem with the police. ‘Maybe’ I can presume innocence.

Of those who stayed, I was not the oldest. At least one was missing work w/o pay, others who will pay more in child care for the day than they will get from jury pay….

It is not worth the pay, is inconvenient and all that….but if you get called, say YES. You’ll learn a lot.

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One of my college errands – sending Christmas Cards

During three of my years at the University of Kentucky, I was one of five guys renting rooms on the third floor of this Civil War-era home, used as a hospital during the war.

Our rent was especially cheap, but part of it included one “errand” per month with Miss Iva Dagley, a nearly blind New York Opera Singer who came back to KY when the Great Depression ended her career.

By having five guys, each owing an errand, she could get out at least five times monthly. Sometimes our errand was giving a tour of her amazing house; the “Teak Room” where all furniture was hand carved under water, or the “Sun Room” with a marble table that took seven men to carry in, or the “Silver Room” that had shelves and shelves of silver.

Follow the link below for some of the comical stories of her in public, like the time she had me hand a bank teller a note asking for $10,000 to be placed in the money bag I was holding. Can you say “security detail”? Or the time she was inspecting wood-burning stoves with her long-sleeved white gloves.

But this time of year, one of those errands might be helping her send and reply to Christmas Cards. As I was going through MY list, I remember this conversation

Me: “Here’s a card from [whoever]. Shall I address one to them?”

Dagley: “Did they send me a card last year?”

Me: “Yes ma’am.”

Dagley: “What about two years ago?”

Me: “Doesn’t look like it.”

Dagley: “Then we shall wait until next year. Next?”


We’ll be mailing/distributing ours for this year over the next few days. If you haven’t received a card and/or family letter from the Gardner house in the last few years, check to see when the last time was you sent one to us. Hope to hear from you soon….and Merry Christmas.

Click here to read more of my stories living with an opera singer.

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Puppy Dogs and Clarinets

By John Gardner

white labrador retriever puppy dogThere is a sales technique called the “Puppy Dog” close. It gets is name from the puppy dog at the pet shop scenario:

A mother and young child go into a pet store to buy a dog. They find one, but mamma says it is too expensive.

The wise sales clerk invites the mother and child to take the puppy home for the night….with the offer to bring it back the next day if they don’t think it is worth the price.

They will NOT likely bring the puppy back.

I fell for that sales close with a car once. My wife wasn’t with me when I stopped on the lot (intentional, so I had a way out of a pressure sales situation). The smart salesperson invited me to drive the car home to show her. SOLD!


Classic music Sax tenor saxophone and clarinet in blackI used the “Puppy Dog” approach with a clarinet student (I will call her Sally). The first time I heard her play was in a middle school concert. I didn’t know Sally, but I noticed her. It was 2-3 yrs later when I convinced her parents to let her study privately with me. She had incredible musicianship but was hindered by a mediocre instrument.

When I would ask about a step up instrument, she always responded about how busy her parents were. Knowing her father’s occupation, I knew PRICE was NOT the issue.

The music dealer let me borrow a top of the line clarinet for a day, with return privilege that I was not expecting to utilize.

I took the clarinet to Sally’s band rehearsal at the high school, instructing her to play it in the rehearsal and then to take it home that night to practice with at home and either return the clarinet or payment the next day. She handed me the check for payment in full.


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Thank you from a student of 40+ years ago

On Thanksgiving Day, 2023, I received the following note from a student I had over 40 yrs ago. We are both now retired teachers. I print his note, unedited, and with permission. Name withheld. This husband/wife team were both in my band at that time.


Hi John, (Mr. Gardner, it’s hard to address a former teacher by his first name.)

I’ve been meaning to write this for a while now, and today is the day.  I just want to let you know how much I appreciate the years we had as teacher and student.  I can remember the many times a couple of students would stay after school and you would get out your instrument and play with us for a few minutes.  I could never get enough of making music!  Also, I wasn’t in a hurry to get home. 

My parents started divorce proceedings during the spring of my Senior year, and the stability of band class helped me through that.  You felt more like an older brother or friend than a teacher.  I appreciate you putting up with my immaturity and craziness.  I’m still crazy, but your former trumpet player has to deal with it now.  Of course, I have to deal with the ego of a 1st trumpet player. 

I truly believe that for me, music is one of the greatest gifts God gave us.  You did so much to help me love music even more.  Thanks again for everything you have done for me and thousands of other students.  God bless you and Joan.  Happy Thanksgiving. 

Sincerely,

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Joyful Songsters at HBC and Happy Birthday to ME!

Joyful Songsters, directed by Stephanie Schultz, is one of the choirs from the Community Choirs of Huntington County that sang at the Senior Luncheon at Huntington Baptist Church on October 19th, which happened to be my birthday. Wife Joan is singing with them. They sang Happy Birthday to ME at the end of their 15 minute presentation and then had lunch with those in attendance.

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Busy dedication

A cheerleader who cheers first half, runs to the band lineup to perform halftime, and then back to cheer for the second half.

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This has happened twice, and I didn’t like it the first time either

This has happened twice, and I didn’t like it the first time either.

Several years ago, toward the end of a lunch period, there was a threat called into the school that resulted in the entire 1500 student/staff population’s immediate exit from the building. We were instructed to go to the football stadium. It was a bright, sunny day and we sat in the stadium until dismissal, about two hours later.

It was a mess as parents started coming to pick up students, but all the computer equipment with identification and information on students/parents was in the vacated building. A lot was learned for future.

I’m bald. I have a collection of hats I used for outside rehearsals. I didn’t have a hat for this event and my head burned moderately significantly. It went from embarrassingly red to sore and finally to flaking. I wasn’t happy about any of it. I posted on my personal social media site, something like this:

When they find out who did this, I hope they affix that person to the flag pole in the front yard and give us all an opportunity to walk by and expressure our displeasure.

The next day I was called to an admin office where I was mildly scolded with,

We all feel like what you said — but you can’t say that.

He was right. I deleted my post and that was the end of it…..except for wondering who saw fit to copy my post and take it to the office. Was it a teacher? I don’t know for sure, but I wasn’t happy about who it was, and glad I never found out.

Then, this week…

…I get a letter from the City

“It was recently brought to the department’s attention that you upgraded your electrical panelboard without first obtaining an electrical permit.”

When we hired a contractor to install a new HVAC system, he reported that he had trouble getting our 1950’s vintage “pushmatic” breaker box to engage and recommended we consider replacing it. I brushed it off as an “upsell”, but two days later, our neighbor’s house was completely totalled (on the inside) when their breaker box malfunctioned.

Neighbor house as breaker box malfunctions sending flames throughout the walls and outlets.

I immediately contacted my HVAC contractor to ask him to go ahead and replace my breaker box. He sent an electrician. I was happy with the results and posted them.

Old
New

I want to do the right thing. I worked with my contractor, the city, the city’s inspector and another contractor to make everything legal, correct and safe with the City.

My frustration….

…is with people who need to “turn me in” instead of communicating with me directly.

Rant over.

 

 

 

 

 

 

This has happened twice, and I didn’t like it the first time either Read More »

Throw Back Thursday

This is David’s entrance from his hs production of The Wiz. Once he gets fully lubricated, he adds choreography (his own) to the song. Video is under 4 minutes. Enjoy.


 

https://youtu.be/ErC3btVIiLo

 

 

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Is it ever ok for a teacher to LOVE students?

There is more to school life than what happens during the academic day. Some academic teachers are also coaches or extracurricular sponsors. Coaches develop strong bonds with their athletes. Music and theater arts teachers spend considerable extracurricular time with students – evenings, weekends, summers. These teacher/student relationships are significant and life long impacting.

Is it ever ok for a teacher to LOVE students?

In a reunion with some of the students from my first teaching job, as they were sharing memories, one person put it this way:

“Come back to teach the students of the students you taught.”

I expected to hear some of the heart-warming stories and did, but one comment caught me off guard a little. As one was listing attributes he appreciated, he included…..

“…and your smile.”

What teachers do you remember most 10-20-30 years out, and for what do you remember them?

Band is the ultimate team.

Unlike a basketball team with its starting five, there is no bench in band. Everybody is in. Everybody is a starter. Few other types of groups will involve people from such varied backgrounds. There are children of doctors and lawyers performing with children of single-parents working multiple jobs or utilizing government help. There are the students who have their own cars and those who need rides, those with the iPhones and the free phones or no phone. You will find students in most bands from every church in the community and others who have never been inside a church.

High school provides a memorable time for teens and parents to be on the same team before graduation and the empty nest.

If only it were like that for all teens.

At this most critical time in their decision-making years, if teens can’t find love, acceptance, encouragement and support from parents, teachers and mentors, they will search for it elsewhere, often with disastrous results leaving them with consequences that change lives and crush dreams.

But even more than TEAM, band is FAMILY…

Most high school athletic teams are together for a “season” — maybe six weeks with a few more for preparation. Band meets in the summer, including band camp which can be 8+hours a day. Then there is every day at school with additional rehearsals in the evenings, plus the Friday football/basketball game and the Saturday competition.

…and more functional than some.

As I stood outside Door 34, she jumped out of the passenger side of the car and ran past me, teary-eyed, crying,

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

As she went by I saw the papa, for the first time, approaching me and angrily waving a piece of paper.

“How much of this schedule is mandatory?”

I paused, if only for a moment as I thought through his reaction to my answer…

“All of it.”

After grumbling something that I probably couldn’t repeat, he returned to the car and didn’t quite lay rubber in his exit. The daughter was waiting in my office, still crying and apologetic. I hugged her. How does such a sweet daughter have a parent like that?

There are loving parents who are working 2-3 jobs each, going to school and dealing with the challenges of large families – and it is somewhere between difficult and impossible for them to spend a lot of time at football games, parades and competitions. I get that. But what do you say to this parent?

“We need to pull [Benjamin] out of band because he won’t clean his room and he needs to learn respect. He loves band and so this is the only valuable thing we can take away to make our point.”

Or this one?

“Why should I pay money for her to spend time spinning a flag. There are no colleges that will offer scholarships and besides, what job is that going to prepare her for?”

Or to these students?

“Can you please give me something to do. I’ll straighten the library….anything….just don’t make me go home.”

“I have a job so I can earn the money for my band fee, and I keep hiding it, but my mother keeps finding it and taking it.”

“I have to quit music lessons. My dad found out I was using some of my job money for music lessons and says that if I am going to waste my money on that – I can start paying rent.”

“Please don’t try to introduce yourself to my dad. Please don’t. Please, please, please don’t. He is not a nice man.”

I want to share the LOVE they may be missing.

Educationally, the L-word is dangerous. Administrations encourage admiration and respect, but love is conspicuously absent. Understandable. Inappropriate teacher student relationships make national news and destroy lives. Elementary teachers can hug students, but by middle school it is to be a touchless relationship. I disagree.

Sometimes an appropriate touch, handshake, high five, tap on the shoulder or even a hug – can be powerfully effective in mentoring, consoling or encouraging. It doesn’t have to be physical. It can be listening and responding when others won’t.

C.S. Lewis in his book, The Four Loves, divides the Greek vocabulary for “love” into four categories:  Storge (στοργή storgē) -affection, Philia (Philia (φιλία philía) – friendship, Éros (ἔρως érōs– romantic love, and Agápe (ἀγάπη agápē) – charity.

None of those match completely what I’m trying to define. Storge (affection) can include the physical. Philia (i.e. Philadelphia – brotherly love) comes close but can include the sexual. Éros is obviously not appropriate, and Agápe, often interpreted as the love between Christians is also close, but gets into spiritual and that is not quite it either.

I “L” my students with a parental type. I see their potential and their youthful enthusiasm and I love that. I love their willingness to share with me things that they can’t comfortably share anywhere else.

“You are always the one to trust with issues like this because you treat us like people and not just another bunch of “teenagers”.”

ADMIRE students who…

  • pay band fees out of a paycheck
  • pay for private instruction lessons out-of-pocket
  • seem completely self-supporting (clothes, obligations)
  • apologize for the way their parent(s) behaved
  • juggle the extra rehearsals and activities with job and homework — and go for the best grades without parental encouragement or expectation
  • keep a positive attitude when others have parents involved and but they don’t

Nobody said life is fair. Those who endure hardships can be the better for it later. Trust me on that. As the oldest of five children raised in a single parent family by a polio surviving mother (and if you have no idea what that means, thank God), I understand poverty, but also how to work through it, with it, around it, and above it …. so cut me some slack when I don’t expect less from the less fortunate.

Students often impress me with friend choices and for the way they support and encourage each other. It is moving to see how friends and band members surround one who is hurting, physically or emotionally. With proper relationships established, teachers can be included in, or involved separately in similar support and encouragement – even of some personal issues.

RESPECT students …

  • who work through moderate pain or discomfort without complaint
  • who have the musical ability to thrive, but can’t get the new instrument, or the private lessons, or go to the summer camps….or even stay in band, because of a parent who doesn’t see the value of band or color guard
  • expect more of themselves than their parents do
  • endure custody battles and try not to allow it to interfere with band

I hope these students appreciate how hard I try to make their situations work out.

And we have students whose parents are their biggest cheerleaders and amazing supporters…..

  • helping them earn the highest of Boy or Girl Scout honors
  • supporting their garage band
  • encouraging out of country mission trips
  • inspiring them to pursue the same vocation as the parent
  • or spending countless hours volunteering for band (committees, sewing, cooking, feeding, chaperoning, driving, etc)

We have CARING students who….

  • stand outside Wal-mart when it is below freezing to ring bells and play Salvation Army brass ensemble music
  • volunteer in nursing homes and with church youth groups in a host of different types of volunteerism
  • help raise money for those sick and injured

I am a retired high school teacher who appropriately loves, admires, and respects students.

Teacher Student Love

 

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