What I Learned As A WGI Finalist

When I was a little girl, I was intrigued by my father's world of band and music, but I was enthralled with dance. I had searched for my place among many groups vowing to make me a pretty and well-trained dancer, including a pom squad in jr. high and a special jazz dance ensemble in college that I'm still a part of today. But when I was in the fourth grade, I discovered the other part of my dad's occupation: the part he didn't work with, the part that rehearsed separately, the part that was uniquely and undeniably captivating.

Color guard; half a sport and half an art form, called for the athleticism of dancers along with the presence of actors. It wasn't good enough just to dance. You had to dance, spin, toss, catch, and perform. You had to learn staging. You had to learn how to fold and transport a tarp. You had to learn what a tarp even was. You had to become a makeup artist overnight, and learn how to get your hair to poof as high as Dolly Parton. And you discovered a glorious invention you never knew how you lived without: the power of glitter. On your face. In your hair. Everywhere. Guard called for costume fittings, endless rehearsals, and stamina beyond compare. It called for money too; for equipment and team jackets and fees to cover everything that wasn't sponsored. I knew it would be hard work, but I was ready.

When I was in seventh grade, I discovered the difference between color guard and winterguard. Color guard was hot and sweaty. It was done on a football field with an often less-than-appreciative audience who was only there for football. They would go get hot dogs when you took the field to show them what you'd been working on. But winterguard was its own little world, where everyone who had witnessed it once found it unique, entrancing, and humbly impressive. The best of the best were sent to Dayton, OH to perform at WGI World Championships along with hundreds of others. The top 15 of those best of the best would be sent to finals. Those dancers were more than dancers. They were performers. They were undeniably talented. And they were stunning. I wished to be just like them.

So I worked. I trained. I got too many bruises and I let too many things hit the floor. I would sweat. I would cry. But above all, I would practice, only to make an open class winterguard and realize that all my hard work could never be enough on its own.

A winterguard show isn't impressive when one person is amazing. It's impressive when everyone is amazing. When all the flags spin together. When everyone catches a toss behind their back. And in that moment, I realized that everything I'd dreamed of and worked for wasn't really about me at all.

When I walked into our rehearsal space on the first day of the Pride of Missouri State staging camp, I had no way of knowing how the season would end. All I knew is that I had a few friends on the team, and our show was about love. But over the course of the season, I came to realize our show was about so much more than that. It wasn't about a love that was meant to be, it was about an experience that was unparalleled. I watched everyone else on our team work just as hard. I watched everyone spin together and everyone catch those tosses. I watched some drops, too, but then watched as we picked the equipment right back up again. And we kept going. Kept pushing. Kept fighting. And when we loaded the bus to Dayton on Tuesday in the middle of the night, it was far from over.

It was only beginning really. Our show was completed. There was no more choreography to memorize. No more staging to learn. The tricks had been ironed out and our show was all wrapped up and topped with a bow. But our goal was to show our art, our work, and our sacrifice to as many people as possible. That would require three runs: one in prelims, one in semis, and one in finals. Yes, finals. Where only 15 of the best of the best perform in UD Arena.

We performed in prelims and then had another rehearsal. We advanced to semis, and rehearsed some more. Every spare moment was spent spinning, stretching, and mentally running through our show. We were not giving up. I didn't make finals. We made finals. All of us. And when I walked through the tunnel, kissed the traditional UD wall for good luck, and set my equipment under the lights of UD Arena, I felt invincible. I felt talented. And I felt stunning.

It's amazing how relying on others can make you feel better than you'd feel if you'd done it all yourself.

I'm sure everyone on that floor felt stunning and talented and wonderful. So many dreams for little guard girls came true that day. But every individual walked out with tears in their eyes and pride in their soul, knowing they had worked and sacrificed and contributed to something that had been recognized by judges, performers, and fans. The best of the best. We were among the top 15 of the best of the best in our class.

I will never forget that moment. It's what I'd dreamed of since a little girl, of course. But more than that moment, I will remember everything I learned along the way. Not just about dance technique and the correct way to spin a rifle, but the things that are never said. The things that are never included in a lecture or a pep talk. The things that you just learn, merely by being a part of something greater.

So, to all my friends who think guard is just about slinging around a flag during a football game's halftime show, here's everything that happens within Dayton week that guard members experience. Here's everything the band, and especially the audience members, know nothing about.

1) You will be busy. 
Wake up. Eat breakfast. Get dressed. Check out the performance arena. Come back. Change. Drive. Unload. Rehearse. Change. Load. Drive. Hair. Makeup. Uniform. Drive. Load. Stretch. Drive. Unload. Warm up. Perform. Load. Drive. Change. Unload. Rehearse. Load. Drive. Announcements. Shower. Change. Bed. And you gotta eat three times a day in there somewhere.

Rinse and repeat.

It is a no nonsense trip. You don't get to stop for dinner and take a 3 hour break. As if performing wasn't enough to exhaust you, the rehearsals are. The long drives are. Even the sheer fact that you have to be somewhere every second of the day on such a tight schedule is enough to fry your brain. You better carry your schedule with you (but bring an ink pen, too, because it will change at the drop of a hat).

2) You will be sore. 
Extend your arm. Point your feet. 5-6-7-8 and turn. Dut dut OUT! Toss. Catch. Prep. Toss. Drop. OUCH. Recover. Lift. Extend. Curve your arm. Close your fingers. Free arm is down. "For the last time, girls, that toss is out on EIGHT!" 5-6-7-squeeze, push, OUT. Release. Breathe....

Sound familiar? It does if you're in guard, and you know what each of those things mean. You've heard them a thousand times from your instructors and teammates. You know how bad it hurts when your rifle jams your thumb. You know how much you bleed when you stick your hand in too fast to catch a sabre. You know the way things black out for a moment when you whack your head with a flag. And yet, you keep right on going. Chances are, you don't even notice your body is giving out until you're done with the run-through anyway.

3) You will be tired.
So your rehearsal lasted until 11 p.m. last night, and the venue was an hour away from your hotel. You have to be up at 6 a.m.  But don't you complain, because that's a good day. An easy day. You might only get four hours of sleep one night. You catch 10 minutes naps on the bus when you can. They're all that get you through the week after all. Any time you get to lay horizontal on a bed is nothing short of a luxury, and it isn't taken for granted.

P.S. We drove through the night last night and arrived home at 8:30 a.m. I'm writing this post at 10:13 p.m. after three naps and only one meal that I've dared to emerge from my bed to consume.

4) You will be judged. 
Everyone in that arena has worked just as hard. The judges are top notch. They are critical. They are harsh. They don't miss a single thing. You must have the best of the best judges for the best of the best guards.

The audience will judge you, too. You'll be criticized by the enthusiasts for not being artsy enough, but you'll be bashed by a high school audience for being too abstract. Some people won't understand your show. Or worse, they won't like it. Most people don't understand guard itself, and believe me, all of us are used to that. But everyone in Dayton knows their stuff. They know what it is and how to do it.

Just remember... It may be a sport, but it is also an art. It's 1,000 people's opinions in one day. Some will love your show. Others will despise it. It's like life; you can't please everybody. All you can do is the best you can do. Sometimes it isn't enough. But sometimes, it is.

5) You will be loved. 
Because now that I'm sitting at home after a concluded season with no rehearsal footage to review, no practice to go to, and no performance to prepare for, I'm not thinking about the schedules or the aching muscles or the technique of it all. I'm thinking about the group I did it with. I'm thinking about the literal blood, sweat, and tears we poured into our season, and the countless hours spent with my closest friends. I'm thinking about the age-outs, too; the ones who may never spin again, and the bonus babies who surely never will. That may not mean anything to the general public, or to my readers who have not experienced guard at all. But for us performers, that thought alone is enough to instill tears for the memories had and the uncertainty of what's to come. That team, my team, as it existed wholly and interdependently only yesterday, has ceased to exist. I will spin with the Pride of Missouri State again. That much is certain. I have a year left before my age out and I don't intend on wasting it. It will be the same name, but it will be a different team. The people, the talent, the jokes, and the memories I've clung to since December will never be the same again. It will never again be the way it was only yesterday.

So to my friends who think I march around with the band and wave a flag around... Stop telling me that. Because it's offensive to degrade my entire life into what I do in a five minute show. Because I might be passionate about the sport itself, but in the end, it's not really about color guard. It's about inspiring other performers to be better. It's about impacting performers and non-performers alike with your art. It's about making people laugh, cry, believe, love, and feel something when they might not otherwise. It's about the journey you make individually, and where it takes you, and who you get to spend it with. It's about the hugs and tears when it's all over, and that one comment someone said three months ago that still makes you laugh when you're walking down the street. It's about the frustration that you learn to handle. It's about knowing your limits, and pushing past them.

I've learned a lot about guard since I started spinning with the Pride of Missouri State. I've learned that I never had a very good turn-out in my feet, that my rifle tosses are always high, and that I don't like spinning weapon half as much as I enjoy spinning flag. But after all that, I learned that it's never really been about guard. It's about everything it gives you; the confidence, the pain, the dignity, the plight, and the twenty seven other performers you now consider family.

Because it's never really been about guard. It's about knowing what it's like to feel alive.

Congratulations to all units who performed with thousands of others at WGI World Championships this past weekend, and a special thanks to the members and staff of the Pride of Missouri State for making my dream come true. 

The Importance Of Integrating The Arts In Academic Classrooms

March is National Music In Our Schools month, and I haven't seen a single teacher celebrate it. So I will, and by the end of this post, I hope to see you celebrating it too. We've all heard the rumors about how music and other aspects of the performing arts make young children more intelligent, more talented, more social, and more well rounded. And those rumors are true, but no one seems to understand why. 

Raised in quite the artistic family, the importance of arts integration in the classroom has always been of personal importance to me. My dad was a band director and percussionist, so I began piano lessons at an early age. Then came the dance classes, acting instruction, color guard camps, and a genuine love for theatre. These activities didn't just keep me occupied, they engaged me in math concepts, scientific kinesthetics, and historical stories I would've never otherwise been interested in.

The effects of performing arts in the educational classroom are no different.

Yes, visual art is important. But it isn't something that's often neglected, especially in early childhood and elementary classrooms. It adds an extensive visual component to the curriculum, making it easier for students to grasp. For some reason, educators are quick to understand this for painting, coloring, gluing, and creating, but the performing arts (like visual arts), are a key ingredient to successful learning in the early stages of life. They should not be excluded from the lessons in our classroom.

There are eight learning styles recognized among students today; eight different "intelligences." These intelligences are used to help students understand and make sense of the world around them, influencing the way they approach and solve a problem. Most students use a combination of these eight learning styles, but one of the main problems in our education system is that these learning styles are not catered to equally. This means that a student whose learning style matches the teacher's lesson will be more successful than a student who learns a different way, and there is no quicker way to short a student of his/her own potential than refusing to teach the way that student learns.

8 Intelligences / Learning Styles 
Linguistic
Aka: Language. This student can utilize language and words effectively to express their thoughts, ideas, and feelings. These students usually love reading and class discussions. They will likely grow up to be writers, bloggers, journalists, or authors.

Logical
Aka: Mathematical and scientific. These students rely on sound reasoning, structure, proof, and inductive thinking to understand. These students require formulas and fool-proof instructions. They love lists, planning, and organized activities.

Spatial
Aka: Visual. They have to see it to believe it. Spatial learners are generally very abstract. They learn fractions with pizza instead of with numbers. They probably still count on their fingers, even if they know the numerical value. A common misconception is that spatial learners are very good at visual art because it is visual and abstract. The truth is that spatial learners are successful in any subject, as long as they are able to visualize the concept in a physical and realistic scenario.

Naturalistic
Aka: Experiential. Naturalistic learners have an overwhelming awareness and sensitivity towards the world around them, and all the people in it. The more real-life application you can give these students, the more likely they are to understand. If you want to teach percentages, teach them how to leave a tip. If you want to teach persuasive writing, have them construct a letter. They like to know that what they are learning is real, applicable, and valuable to their life outside the classroom.

Interpersonal
Aka: Social. These students have the ability to interact effectively and successfully with others. Interpersonal learners thoroughly enjoy working in groups or with a partner.

Intrapersonal
Aka: Individualistic. Intrapersonal students have a firm grasp of their own interests, personality, and skill level. They are generally self-motivated, and prefer to work alone at their desk rather than with another student.

Kinesthetic
Aka: The I-Need-Movement squad. This one of the two majorly neglected learning styles. Kinesthetic learners like to move around the classroom, work with their hands, and involve all five senses. They like to be thoroughly involved. From the moment students enter academic schooling, they are told to sit down, be quiet, and listen to the teacher. Nothing frustrates these students faster because they physically can't. These are the students now labeled with ADHD. Some have been emotionally, medically, and realistically diagnosed, and teachers are prepared to help these students out. But many students who are told they are ADHD don't actually have it at all. They are simply denied their primary learning style in the classroom, fueling all kinds of behavior issues that students, parents, and doctors are left cleaning up after. And it's not their fault.

Auditory
Aka: Music. This is the other majorly neglected learning style. The main misconception of this learning style is that these students are able to remember what the teacher said strictly because they heard it. Part of this is true. Auditory learners pick up cues to help them recognize and remember patterns in a lesson or lecture, but you have to meet them halfway. They won't remember every word unless you give them a reason to. Songs, poems, rhythmic rhymes, and acronyms will be this student's best friend. Ever wondered why you can't remember a single thing for your biology final but you can remember the words to every song on the radio? Music aids memory.

We tend to teach toward linguistic, logical, and spatial learners. We involve naturalistic learners by explaining how they might use the lesson in real life, and we differentiate activities for interpersonal and interpersonal learners. But auditory and kinesthetic learners are left out, labeled and misdiagnosed with behavioral problems and mental issues, while being inaccurately placed in remedial programs. They are not stupid. They are not a basket case. They are creative. 

We cannot deny these students of what they need to learn. And who knows? By integrating arts into the curriculum, the classroom will inevitably become more lively and fun for students and teachers alike. This is especially seen in early childhood classrooms.

Integrating Music
Music is the learning strategy that develops the earliest: in the womb. Before an infant is even born, they have moved and developed accustomed to the steady beat of their mother's heart. As they grow, music knowledge expands into larger creative realms, as they learn to move, listen, sing, and create. By denying music early on, we also deny creative students the opportunity to use their skills. By my own personal experience, nothing will make them feel more inadequate than being treated as though they are stupid when they are simply more complex than their teacher.

Music is so effective in early childhood education because it is directly related to primal instincts. Human bodies automatically react physically to musical stimuli (foot-tapping, swaying, head nodding, etc.), proving that young children respond more quickly and effectively to musical practices. Singing, clapping, and rhythmic imitation keeps children engaged and supplies a natural and comfortable transition to learning basic concepts.

Music is, in its rawest form, an artistic version of math. Keeping a steady beat, rhythm, melody, and tempo teach patterns, sequencing, counting, one-to-one correspondence, and even fractions. Music also aids in literacy development by teaching rhyme, syllabic structure, and comprehensive strategies through memory, concentration, and abstract concepts. It can also be found in word recognition, sentence structure, context clues, and phonemic awareness activities. Music is an exceptional vehicle of learning, allowing teachers to meet the needs of students with various interests, learning styles, and skill levels, if they would simply choose to do so.

Music brings order to disorder. It allows an instructor to teach so many concept with little/no materials. Just as an infant is often calmed by the musical voice of their caregiver, music is instinctively familiar to young children, proving it effective as a primary learning tool. Of course, music should not be used exclusively, but when incorporated with symbolic play and instructional input, music can enhance lessons in unexpected ways. Music instruction should not be left solely to the music teacher.

Integrating Creative Dramatics
Children process the world differently than adults do, and need academic material to be presented in familiar ways. Creative dramatics is another useful (and neglected) strategy for teaching pedagogical concepts. Young children rely on play, emotion, and imagination to explore and understand their world. Dramatic play allows exactly that. Not only does it allow students to grasp concepts in a way they can understand, but also provides them a kinesthetic and emotional outlet to literally interact with a concept, character, or idea. It can enhance students' comprehension of a text, promote language development and vocabulary growth, stimulate critical thinking, and foster high level cognitive processes. By utilizing multiple forms of intelligence, creative dramatics enables students to think out loud through movement, organize information, interpret ideas, create new thoughts/opinions, and interact cooperatively with others. It gives them a sense of ownership over their learning. This is especially useful for language arts and literacy lessons, though public speaking skills and creative brainstorming are also used frequently.

This doesn't just have to be a dramatic play center. This can be readers theatre, acting out mathematical word problems, or presenting a story to the class using mime or a short script. Drama can be incorporated into almost any lesson, providing structure, open-mindedness, conceptual and social feed back, and an environment where students feel free and safe to construct their own ideas (no matter how basic or irrational they might be). It also allows students a medium to express themselves and their lives outside of the classroom when they might not have another way to do so. Students will learn the importance and power of their own voice, body, imagination, and the ability to work with others, generating self-confidence and classroom community. Creative dramatics in the academic classroom fully engages students of all interests, learning styles, and skill levels by supplying logical, visual, kinesthetic, and creative components to foster learning.

Integrating Movement
No, I don't mean for you to assign an interpretive dance project after reading a story aloud. I don't even mean dance, specifically. Creative movement is a very broad, very general category, and it's hardly even mentioned in classrooms anymore. In daycare classes, you see kids marching, stomping, hopping, skipping, and galloping. You see nothing of the sort in academic classrooms unless you're on duty for their 15-minute recess they get once a day.

Kinesthetic learners need a lot more than 15 minutes per day of maximum learning.

I'd like to think that kinesthetic students learn more in the classroom than they do at recess, but I'm not really sure that's the case. After all, in class we just tell them to sit down and be quiet when movement can be an incredibly useful tool in classroom education.

Perhaps the most obvious skill developed through movement is self-control, as students learn the boundaries of their own bodies and actions. They are able to experiment with energy, time, space, and flexibility. There are obstacles to teaching with movement, of course: like finding adequate space in the classroom, accommodating students with special needs, etc., but once the obstacles have been hurdled, it proves to be worth the struggle. Nothing will involve young students like letting them work freely and constructively.

Creative movement gives children the opportunity to expend that extra energy while helping them learn that there can be more than one solution to a problem or task. I can't count the number of studies that have proven kinesthetically involved students were more likely to remember information than those who were idle. And yet, we still refuse to acknowledge the statistics. Movement isn't simply to promote exercise and healthy lifestyles. It is crucial in developing social, emotional, physical, and creative components necessary to further learning.

Music should not be left to the music teacher. Drama should not be left to the drama teacher. Movement should not be left to the P.E. teacher, especially when it is all so valuable for complete and conclusive learning. It is up to every teacher in the building to provide these crucial components. It is up to us.

MYTHBUSTERS: Early Childhood Education Is Easy

Every education major has heard it at some point: the education-is-the-easiest-degree-on-campus slogan. The its-the-easy-way-out-of-a-career-and-get-summers-off accusation. Every education major also knows these statements to be false, but startled by recent events, it has come to my attention that even some other education majors make fun of early childhood majors, claiming that our degree is too easy.

I was enraged. 

I'm sorry that we have more fun than students in other majors. I'm sorry that we don't believe in tests (because they don't prove much, if anything), and that we get to color and craft and act like four year olds while others are presenting a lesson. I'm also sorry that we train children in academics while they're learning to hold a spoon. I'm sorry that elementary educators teach reading and writing while early childhood educators teach children to walk, speak, resolve conflicts, read, write, and count all at the same time. I'm sorry that we dodge flying toys and change messy diapers amidst it all. 

I'm sorry that I'm about to prove your misconceptions wrong. 

I'm not saying other programs are easy, because I know they aren't. But I'm not going to say they're any more difficult than early childhood, because I firmly believe it could be the other way around. 

There are thousands of misconceptions about early childhood educators from education majors and non-education majors alike, but there are five that have begun to stand out before I've even completed my degree. Here are my thoughts on all of them. 

Your degree program is too easy.

Ha!! False. Yes, we color. Yes, we sing. We also evaluate for fine motor skills, gross motor development, social skills, conflict resolution, cognitive processing, and speech development. Oh, and then we teach them how to read and write. 

Say we're teaching our students how to count. After all, that's an easy lesson for our easy degree. Our kids are young. When we design lesson plans, our goal is to keep our wild kiddos focused, engaged, and willing to learn. Before we even design a lesson, we have informally assessed everything each student already knows, needs to know, and still struggles with from the last lesson. We look into each child's home life, determining how their family is meeting the basic needs of child development, and examining how it affects their life in the classroom. We research and learn about each student's culture so that we can understand why they might say, do, or react the way they do in the classroom. Then we differentiate the counting lesson accordingly to cater every student's need. 

If the student still isn't succeeding, we examine further. Do they need a reading specialist? What about a speech therapist? Are they acting out because of a traumatic situation at home, or are they actually gifted and just bored out of their mind? Do they really belong in that remedial group or do they need medication to help them focus so they can learn? Or do you need to fill out the paperwork and attend the meetings for a Special Education referral? Call it a diagnosis, if you will. We are way more than mere Crayola Queens. If I turned you loose in a classroom tomorrow and told you to teach my kids their sight words, would you know enough about them to succeed? Do you know enough about classroom management to keep them all engaged? Do you even know what a sight word is? 

You don't have extensive training in reading, math, or curriculum development. 

False. We have more. 

At Missouri State, we take two years of general education courses to be followed by a total of four reading classes (three of which have field experience), two full math methods courses, social students courses related to teaching content and necessary social skills, and numerous science courses focusing on experiential learning and experimentation. We also take child development courses, nutrition, arts integration, multi-cultural diversity, family involvement, and an intro course in speech pathology so we are prepared with the tools to help all our students when they are unable to pinpoint why they are struggling with reading, writing, or math. 

You're just babysitters. 

Um...false. We're teachers. Please reread the categories above. 

There are too many of you.

Again, false. It is overwhelming how false that is. Are you aware that there are over 200 elementary education students each year at Missouri State (and even more in the complete education program), when only a handful of students are admitted (yes, admitted, meaning we took a test, filled out an application, wrote an essay, etc.) to the early childhood education program? Missouri State University's early childhood undergraduate program is highly selective, and significantly smaller than any other education program at the university. I did a little research and also found that there are way more elementary graduates than there are jobs available in the immediate area, whereas the early childhood education program has a 90% placement rate after graduation. 

Most early childhood programs aren't even offered as an undergraduate degree because the plan is so involved. Early childhood majors are half a child development major and half an elementary education major; just a little less than a double major, which is why our degree program doesn't require a minor or an emphasis. Most universities don't even offer an early childhood program until graduate school. 

You don't take care of behavior issues quickly. 

True! One that I agree with! We don't take care of behavior issues quickly, but we take care of them permanently. When behavior issues arise, many educators are trained to examine the behavior itself, but early childhood educators value development over education. Therefore, we look at what's causing the behavior rather than the behavior itself. If we can fix the cause of the behavior, the behavior will fix itself. For example, if a child bites or hits another child, most teachers would instruct them to say sorry, write a note to the parent, and move on with the day. An early childhood educator would lead the young student in the whole cognitive process, starting with "look at the tears on his face," and "how much do you think that hurt him?" This would be followed by "what are your ideas to fix this problem?" It sounds stupid and ineffective, but it is so much more than telling the student to "use their words." It is the most basic form of educating students to take care of their own problems and disputes without requesting the interference of authority. After the conflict resolution process has been completed, an early childhood educator would then consider the child's situation individually, socially, and economically, gathering information and resources to target and resolve the root of the issue. 

Suddenly, our job has become rather complicated, has it not? 

This post was somewhat therapeutic, as I am sick and tired of being told my degree is stupid and easy. But this post is more than that. It's not a complaint about being under-appreciated. It's alerting those who care enough to listen about how absolutely offensive and ridiculous it is to diminish the intelligence and worth of a person who will be teaching your future children everything they need to know. You might think our job is easy now, but someday, we'll be loving and educating your little prince or princess, and suddenly, it will become one of the most important jobs in the world. 

So teach on, Crayola Queens. You are molding our future generation. 

Got your own myth about educators? I'd love to prove it wrong! Drop it in the comments or shoot me an email to have it featured.