My journey to becoming a music teacher was anything but conventional. According to my parents, I came out of the womb kicking, screaming, and singing. My dad said he would sing the ABCs to me as a baby and I would mimic his voice. Growing up, I started taking piano lessons at the Catholic grade school I attended. My first teacher was Sister Romaine. I remember her having a horrible case of halitosis but she must've done something right cause once I started playing, I never stopped. I would literally get a new piano book, go home, and sit at the piano reading and playing through every song until I was finished with the book. Psychotic child piano player? Yes! But I loved it. The funny thing is that the piano I began to learn on was a beat up old upright with over half the ivorys missing, keys that stuck, keys that didn't play at all, and a pedal that didn't work. Did this stop me? No. Again, my parents always said I was abnormally stubborn even as a child....ok, I still am.
Anyways, along with piano, I continued singing. I would learn a song from my books, then sing along with it. I would dance and sing around the living room listening to my mother's records including but not limited to: Michael Jackson, Whitney Houston, Chicago, Simon and Garfunkel, The Grease Soundtrack, and Lionel Richie. Yes, I began developing my ecclectic side at an early age. Since I grew up in the Catholic Church, my only performance opportunities were IN church. I sang and played weekly either at one of two weekly school masses, or on the weekends for regular church. There were a group of us in my grade who really excelled on the musical side, and, to this day, I credit much of my determination and success to that group. We were friendly competitors, always pushing each other to move ahead or catch up.
Although music has always been a constant and beautiful therapeutic outlet for me, my school years were not so beautiful, especially high school. Let's just say, certain peers and their parents didn't like me "outshining" their children. Without going into too much detail, just picture this: You live in a very small town. You are very talented. You just want to sing. You get to sing through school. You get solos. You win competitions. You are recognized. Your life is made a living hell. You try hang with the "other" crowd to gain friends. You make poor decisions to fit in. You make more poor decisions to fit in. You decide to get as far away from your small town as possible as soon as possible. You go to college 4 hours away. You don't move home for the summer.
That brings us to my college experience. Brace yourselves, it's long and hard to follow, but I promise I will be as swift as possible. I began college at UW-Milwaukee. No schools would accept me into their voice program since I hadn't had professional training but I was accepted into the Piano Performance program. Wow! That was so crazy. I was practicing for 3-5 hours a day, locked in a practice room, trying to get other homework finished and study for exams, taking voice lessons, doing master classes, working, partying, and I'm sure other things which need not be mentioned. We've all been to college!
Well, it was too much. I got caught up once again with the "other" crowd. You see, I never felt like I fit in. To be honest, I still don't. I'm somewhat of a loner yet I crave the acceptance and love of others. I was so young and naive and...stupid. I dropped out of school after almost 2 years, packed my bags, and moved to Florida. Classic first mistake: I moved for a guy. A guy I barely knew. It was awful. I had a terrible time there but was too prideful and STUBBORN to come home. I thought everyone would label me a loser. Finally, a friend of mine said something I will never forget. She said, "Stacy, you need to go home. Home misses you." I don't know why that had such an impact, but it did. I packed my car with what I could, had my parents wire me gas money, and drove straight for 24 hours until I reached home.
During my time home, I was in contact with a company out of Baltimore. They had seen a video of me singing and playing piano on the Internet and were interested in working with me. I really thought it was legit especially since my parents were involved, checking things out. The company moved me to Baltimore and I began 'working' with them. They claimed they would take care of all expenses for the first 3 months. But, being the loner and stubborn independent I am, I was not comfortable fully relying on someone else to take care of me. So, I got a job. I got a really fun and well paying job. I became the promotions manager at a bar, a bar with themes...typical? Of course not! That wouldn't be me. Needless to say, the company and I did not work out but I had really gained some close friends in Baltimore and stayed. I had enrolled in a couple of classes at the city college, I was singing regularly with my singer boyfriend. I went camping. I traveled to NYC, Philly, Ocean City, AC, and DC. I stayed for almost 3 years.
Then one morning, everything changed.
My dad had been blowing up my phone all morning. I had worked the night before and was so tired I didn't answer. It was almost as if I subconsciously knew something was wrong. Finally, I called him back. He was very serious. Too serious. He asked me to sit down. Now my heart was pounding. Me, "What's wrong dad? What happened?" Him, "David was killed in a car accident last night." Me, "What? You're joking." Him, "No Stacy, he's gone..." What I did next, I'm not sure of the order, but it was something like this: Screams. Hysterical Crying. Asking over and over if he was telling the truth. More Crying. More screaming. Sadness. So much sadness. My heart wasn't broken, it was gone. I immediately knew I needed to go home, and right now!!! But I couldn't. I was 1,000 miles away!!! Someone, PLEASE come and get me. Take me home. PLEASE!!! But it took 24 hours to get home. I will always be grateful to my Aunt Gayle for driving from DC to pick me up and take me to the airport. To book a ticket with her miles. To be there for me during that horrible time. Thank you.
I made it home and anyone who has had a loved one pass away, knows what comes next. Oh! I forgot to tell you, David is my brother. My closest sibling out of 3. We were so close. He even went to UWM cause I did. He sang and played instruments. He made everyone laugh. He had an ability to make everyone love him. He is my brother. My precious Dave. Granted, we had some rocky times before he passed, but I'll save that story for another time. Many other things happened between my family during the days, weeks, and months after my brother's death, but again, that is for another time. I didn't go back to Baltimore. My dad, uncle, and 2 cousins drove out, loaded my stuff, and brought me home. Thank you.
I didn't have a clue what I would do next. I wanted to be home but sadness was running so thick, I was drowning in it. It was a horrible time. I couldn't take it all in this way. So, I moved again. This time to Chicago. With my older brother and now sister-in-law. Many things happened during this time as well, but not the time to get into it. After getting a job at the Chicago Board of Trade and starting to find a small sliver of stability in my life, I began to seriously think about what I wanted to be when I grew up. I knew music wouldn't go away. I knew I could change another's life with it. I knew I loved children. I knew I wanted to teach. And I knew I was scared to death of that. To be successful? Me? That wouldn't be my 'norm'. But, after much persuading by my family and friends, I decided to just do it.
I enrolled in one class at Harold Washington just to see if I could even function in the classroom anymore. After all, it had been 7 years! Wow, how time flies. Well, I didn't die so I enrolled fully and picked up where I had left off so many years before. Turns out, I actually excelled in school. I graduated HWC with a 4.0! Yay, my first goal accomplished! Then I transferred to North Park University. I took summer classes and maxed out my semester credits. I was on a mission to graduate and as quickly as possible. Guess what? I wasn't such a bad student there either, graduating Cum Laude. After working part-time with Saint Patrick High School during their spring semester and dutifully searching for a job, I finally, finally found one.
In truth, it was not the job of choice. I wanted to be in a high school not elementary. I wanted full-time not part-time. I wanted public not private. But, the principal was so endearing and welcoming, I just knew God had a plan. After my first day, I am so thankful to be in my position. So far, I have already fallen in love with my students. They are so honest, bright, energetic, and smart! It's going to be a great year. A quick few things about today: A 5th grade teacher stopped in my room after class and wanted to tell me that her kids loved music. She very much sounded in disbelief that anyone could get a 5th grader to like anything! That makes me feel so good. A kindergartener had a bloody nose and two 2nd graders were bleeding...not too many casualties for my first day. Thank you teachers for sharing your band-aids with me. Oh, and the majority of the 7th grade were actually interested in my "Glee Club" choir I want to start. This is excellent. I knew the kids would be responsive. All they need is some encouragement, enthusiasm, and positivity ( I don't think this is a word but it should be!)
Wow, I have been typing for a long time. I hope you aren't too winded if you've made it this far. I will be writing about many more classroom stories and other things that come to mind. See you soon!
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