"It's dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door.  You step onto the road, and

if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you'll be swept off to."

--Bilbo Baggins, The Fellowship of the Ring

Today, I am working on some music I will be playing on a concert with Four Seasons Brass next month.  Right in the middle of a phrase, it hit me how everything I am professionally, began with a selfless decision made years ago by mother, Betty Brewer.  

When I was 11 years old, Jeff Hudson came over to Church Street School and tested the entire fifth grade class to see if we might be interested in playing in the middle school band the next year.  Like most folks, I demonstrated some musical proficiency, and since I liked to do only things that I thought I could be successful at, I decided to do it! 

One summer day,  we went to AMS, to the library specifically, and I tried out several instruments.  I only remember the horn and the trumpet, and I remember wanting to play horn, but according to Jeff and the salesman from Arts, Sully Sylvester, I was best suited for trumpet.  We looked at several models, and settled on a lacquer-plated King 600--I thought it was gold...LOL.  

For reasons I can't explain, I remember that the retail price on that horn was $484...quite a bit of money in 1984....and still so today.   Mom would later buy Thomas a drum kit and Jeremie her own trumpet as well.  To this day, I am in awe of the financial sacrifices my mother made for us.  My family lived on the social security benefits that we all got after my dad died, and from my mom's part-time job.  We weren't poor, but we weren't raking it in, either.  And we NEVER did without.  Mom just made things happen.  Beach trips.  Disney trips.  Shiny, new musical instruments.  And I have reaped endless benefits and blessings because she put me and my brother and sister first.  

In high school, I made the all-state band.  I met Shelley Hatcher, Mark Nichols, and Mike Hammonds there.  Little did I know we'd all be at Troy State together in just a few years.  Mike and I played mellophone together in Southwind.  Mark and I used to backpack.  Shelley was my formal date once in college.  Crazy.

I earned a scholarship to play in the LBW Ensemble.  At that time, our scholarship was full tuition and books.  My first two years of college were FREE!  I made lots of great friendships with some fine musicians while I was here.  

I went on to Troy where I played on the world premier of at least six (that's all I can remember) pieces of music with the Symphony Band.  I met Ray Cramer and Arnald Gabriel.  I made more friends at Troy than I ever thought I would.  

I have been all over the US playing and teaching in the drum corps activity, which is life-changing.  

Even more significant than all the experiences I've been afforded is all the great MUSIC that I have been exposed to--music that has shaped my very existence.   

And all of these things--EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM--were made possible....by one decision.  By my mother's decision to buy me a trumpet.  I can only sit here and shake my head at the thought of it.  I wonder if mom knew what she was doing...if she knew how she was MAKING MY WORLD BETTER through her selflessness!!!!! Like Bilbo Baggins, I stepped out into a world that would be bigger and more amazing than I could ever imagine.  Music would take me to places, geographic and metaphoric, that would shape my life forever.  

As a dad, I need to remember that the decisions I make for my kids ripple through ETERNITY.  My kids' great-grandchildren will be affected by what I do.  Maybe, just maybe, I can be as selfless as my mother.  I owe her everything plus tax.  Thank you, mom.   When I play Barber's "Adagio" next month, it will be for you.  

Now to somehow try to actually play the trumpet....

What is your "why?"

--Colleen Kelly, June 2018

One day, back in June, one of my colleagues at Southwind, Colleen Kelly, asked the trumpet section one of the most important questions a person must address if they are going to do drum corps.  Drum corps is expensive.  It's grueling.  It's hot.  The rehearsal days begin at 7:30 a.m. and "lights out" is usually around 11:00 p.m.  The kids generally only sit down at breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  There are one million things other things the kids could be doing....and they choose this activity. Why???

And that was her question....what is your why?  

We made all 20 trumpets write down their why statement.  Some of them were anonymous.  Some were signed.  This one caught my attention.  

"I've always been told I'm not good enough; after a while I started to

believe it.  I'm here because I want to change that.  I want to feel good enough again."

This was written by a kid who was paying almost $3000 to be a part of Southwind; by a kid who had endured hours and hours and hours of practice; by a kid who had sacrificed one weekend a month to be here; who had sacrificed an entire summer to be here; who had been hand-picked by me to be here!  Who in the name of God had the impudence, the audacity, the unmitigated gall to ever have made that kid feel like he/she wasn't good enough??????????  It absolutely pisses me off.  (I am literally pounding the keys on my computer while I'm typing this!)......and I see it every day......

Tomorrow, LBW will start classes.  There will be someone in my classes who has been told "you won't make it." There will be someone who has been told "you are too old for that."  There will be someone who has been told "you aren't smart enough to do that."  There will be someone who has been told "you don't belong there."  There will be someone who has been told "you can't succeed."  

To each of those I say this: 

 "Those who say it can't be done should never interfere with those who are doing it."

The key is to remember why you are doing whatever it is.  It may be your kids.  It may be for your parents.  It may be for any number of reasons.  But when the going gets tough, remember why you started, and you'll keep going.   

I can't wait for tomorrow.  I can't wait to have a hand in someone walking across that stage next May or the May after. Heck, even if it takes 7 years like it took for me to graduate, YOU WILL MAKE IT.  And when you do, I'm going to just make up a picture in my mind of whoever it was that told you that you weren't good enough, and I'm gonna punch that image right in the face!

Years ago, the Ensemble covered Staind's song "Outside."  Dusty Morrow nailed it.  To this day, that's in my top 3 moments of our performances over the past 15 years.  The lights were incredible, thanks to Jerry Wishum, Dusty's vocals were on fire, and the band was stellar that year.  But....there's a definite sadness to that song, and I suspect EVERYONE has been the character in the song at one point or another...we've ALL felt like we were on the outside, looking in...like we don't belong...like whatever it is, it's not meant for us.  What a lie.  What a gigantic, straight-from-the-pit-of-Hell lie.

You know, as silly and cliche as the character was, Stuart Smalley was right...you are good enough, and you are smart enough.  God said so.  The end.  

Have a good day.  Brewer out. 

".....a SOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUNNNNNND TRADITION!!!!!!!"

My brother-in-law, Frank Shaffer, was the announcer for the Andalusia High School Marching Band, "A Sound Tradition," for many years.  He and his wife, Jeremie--my baby sister if you didn't already know--had two kids come up through the band.  Lorren played trumpet, and Riley played drums and then mellophone.  Riley now plays guitar for me at LBW.  Frank and Jeremie have "retired" from band boosters, and all that goes with that.  They will be missed.  

But the band will go on, just as it has gone on through Lacey Powell, Jim Nettles, Jeff Hudson, Tommy Grimes, Dr. Ward Miller, and Bennie Shellhouse.  I have no idea who was the director before Lacey Powell, by the way...if you do, please comment below!

The moniker "A Sound Tradition" was coined when Tommy Grimes was the director.  I can't remember if I was still in the band or not, but it was in the early to mid-1990s.  Back then the band only had about 90 members.  Today, we're sitting around 185.  I would say half the band participates in at least one, if not two, other activities, to include softball, baseball, basketball, cheer, volleyball, and a host of other things.  In schools the size of Andalusia, all the groups compete for the same kids...that's just how it is, and I commend Bennie Shellhouse's willingness to make band possible for kids who do other things.  

There's something special about Andalusia.  If you were reared here (Joe Wingard would be proud of my correct use of reared, not "raised"), you know what I'm talking about.  Things are just different here.  First of all, Old Main....

That's not your typical, modern school design.  That has character!  When the new junior high was built, the architects did a great job of copying the design so it would look the same.  

In 2016, Southwind Drum and Bugle Corps rehearsed at AHS for 5 days during the summer.  The entire corps, and the staff and volunteers went on and on and on and on about how beautiful the place was...and the trumpet section from that year still remembers that oak tree in the right-hand side of the picture above...we rehearsed for hours under it.  

But it's not just the architecture that makes Andalusia different.  It's the people.  A friend of mine was recently telling me about some kids who will be 5th generation graduates of AHS next May.  I'm a second gen, and my kids will be third gen, but FIFTH??  Amazing.  Andalusia is the kind of place people just feel lucky to be able to come back home to.  It's not tiny, but it's by no means large.  We're off the beaten path, and while I often gripe about how I wish an interstate ran right by us, like Evergreen, I'm really glad one doesn't--it's already busy enough here during spring break season...

This morning, while delivering some forms to the junior high (that is still weird to me to say, since I taught at Andalusia MIDDLE School for five years), I saw Mrs. Addie Simpson.  I commented to her about how Jack, just this morning, asked me about a piece of pottery I made in her 7th grade class. We caught up for a minute, and I asked her about Alphonso's kids.  I left there thinking about how glad I am that quality teachers like her will be teaching my son.  And the school system is full of quality teachers like her!  

I know I am risking sounding xenophobic, but I don't mean to.  Truth is, there is quality and pride and tradition at every school.  And we should celebrate that! Especially tradition!  Tradition is a link to our past, and really, our past is all we have.  The future isn't guaranteed, and when the future does come, it comes as the present, and instantly passes into the past.  (Are you lost? lol) 

Traditions always involve symbols.  School colors.  Mascots.  Even the "Old Main"...they represent a commonality that we all share..."Andalusia, our dear mother...."  Black, white, band, football, nerd, jock, beauty queen, wallflower, artist, entrepreneur....we are all Andalusia.  

About a year or so ago, someone started #That'sWhy.  I like that idea.  "That," and it could be literally  anything, is why we're Bulldogs. And why we will always be Bulldogs.  In a few short weeks, the senior football players, cheerleaders, and band members will line the sideline, and sing these words....

"Andalusia, our dear mother, 'tis to thee we sing.

Our true love and fond allegiance, ever we shall bring.

Through the years, dear Alma Mater, this shall be our aim:

Always, ever to endeavor to honor thy fair name."

And it will be, once again, great to be an Andalusia Bulldog....

Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere nobis.

--from the Roman Catholic mass

The lyrics above translate to this:  Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, have mercy upon us.

In 1962, during the Second Vatican Council, the Roman Catholic Church voted to allow the mass to be recited in a language other than Latin.   Depending on which Catholics you ask, this was a "YES! FINALLY!" moment, or it was an "oh, dear Lord, what have we done?" moment.  They each have opinions to which they are duly entitled.

The first complete setting of the mass by a single composer was the Notre Dame Mass, written in 1340 by Guillaume de Machaut, but the mass itself had been performed for hundreds of years prior to this.  For over 1000 years, the church sang in Latin.  That's amazing considering how today we argue and bicker over what color the carpet should be, or in what order we should sing and pray, or at what temperature the thermastat should be set. By the way, where is our command/example/necessary inference for air conditioners?  (You might not get that if you aren't a product of the Restoration movement.)   But I digress...

While it may not be the most famous setting of the Agnus Dei, my favorite is by American composer Samuel Barber.  Raise you hand if you've heard of Barber....wait, this isn't music appreciation.  Most of you probably haven't though.  He's not a Beethoven.  Or a Mozart.  Or a Swift.  (I crack myself up.)  Heck, most music appreciation textbooks skip him!  Heresy.  

But it's the original version of this piece that I like. 

In 1936, Barber was on tour in Europe.  While there, he finished what I think is the greatest accomplishment in American classical music, his Adagio for Strings.  Originally written as the second movement of his string quartet, he later re-scored it for full string orchestra.  I still remember the first time I ever heard it.  Dothan, Alabama.  National Symphony Orchestra.  Barry Jekowsky conducting.  I was speechless.  Adagio for Strings was played over national radio when both FDR and JFK died.  One legend says that the conductor of the BSO at the time of JFK's death walked into rehearsal, told the orchestra that Kennedy has been shot, and they played it, from memory, on the spot.  It has been used in several films, the most famous being Platoon, starring Charlie Sheen. 

Last year, I got to play a brass choir arrangement of Adagio.  When you listen to it, it sounds simple.  On the page, it looks simple.  When you play it, you pray.  You hope.  You hope against hope that you can make it through it without wrecking it.  I think we did ok, but let's just say that I'm glad I get another shot at playing it next month with Four Seasons Brass in Pensacola, on September 13 at St. Paul Catholic Church at 7:00 p.m. (Shameless plug. LOLOLOL).

On September 15, 2001, just 4 days after the 9/11 attacks, Leonard Slatkin conducted the piece with the BBC Orchestra.  Here's a link to the performance.  Get some Xanax.  

I have about a dozen recordings of this work.  I have my favorite interpretations also.  But great music is great music, regardless of the interp. This is true regardless of genre.  "Thriller" is no less great.  Nor is "I Will Always Love You."  It matters now whether it's classical or pop: great music moves us.  That's why we create it.  To feel.  To be human.  To connect with the world that "we close our eyes to see."   When I play, I enter a world that only I am in.  Music is the "door" to get there, as Jim Morrison said.  This is THE reason I believe in music education: music allows us to have experiences that can ONLY BE HAD through music.  It is aesthetic.  It is beyond this world, and Barber created an entire universe with Adagio!  I'm privileged to get to go there, albeit as a trumpet player, and not a string player.  

Honestly, it is usually difficult for me to go sit down and practice it.  There's a cost.  And ironically, as musicians we practice and practice....and practice and practice....and practice some more, but we usually only perform a work once, maybe twice.  In the financial world, that deal would never go over.  The ROI is too low.  But for us musicians, getting to CREATE art with the instrument that we hold in our hands, with the breath that we respire, is priceless.  And sometimes overwhelming.  But it's always worth it.  

"But Mr. Brewer, what's it about?"

The greatest thing about instrumental music is that there are no words.  Words are objective.  If I say "get me a coke," I said exactly that and nothing else.  But if I play a piece of music on the piano or on my trumpet, to 30 people, then there would be 30 interpretations of the music....and each would be correct!   It is the subjectivity of it that makes it great.  What is it about?  It's about what you feel it's about.  Some say sadness.  Some say rejection.  Some say it's just sound and nothing else.  (Wrongo!)  The truth is that it's about everything and nothing.  It's really what we make of it.  

I guess I should go practice....

"You have the controls."

--my instructor

December, 2015.  I finally decided to take the plunge and take a flight lesson in a helicopter.  I have loved helicopters most of my life.  I'm not sure where it started, but my mom dated an Army medivac pilot several years after my died died.  Maybe that was it.  Maybe it was watching Howling Mad Murdock on The A-Team.  Or TC on Magnum P.I.  No, it had to be Stringfellow Hawk on Airwolf.  Yes, that's it.  

I knew a few helo pilots, all of them US Army, and I'm sure they grew tired of me asking them about flying, but I never seemed to grow tired of asking them about flying.  In my research, I learned that operating a helicopter is EXPENSIVE.  With 5038575 moving parts, most all of them under extreme amounts of torque, one can imagine why they cost so much to operate.  For years, I let that deter me.  But then I learned that Eagle Aviation would do a demo flight lesson.  It was $140, lasted 40 minutes, and you go to take over the controls.  Perfect!  I can check this off my bucket list!  

On a warm, sunny day in late December, I pulled up to the heliport at the Midland City airport, and there it sat.  A nowhere-near-new Schweizer 300, 2-seater, gasoline engine, mosquito of a helicopter.  Oh, you thought it was gonna be a Blackhawk!  Nope.  

The instructor went over the basic controls of a helicopter.  There are 5:  throttle, collective, cyclic, and two anti-torque pedals.  I knew this.  As you can imagine, I had no idea how to actually use them all.  We climbed in the cockpit...it was smaller than I thought it would be...and fired up the engine.  After a brief time of letting the engine warm up, we took off.  It was surreal really.  

Helicopter are really loud on the inside, but I could hear the instructor over the headphones telling me that he was going to give me the controls.  I assumed he meant one at the time, but no, he meant the whole smash.  After I put my stomach back where it was supposed to be, I was ready.  His last bit of instruction went like this.

When you fly us over the power lines, make sure you fly over the poles, because those are the highest points along the lines, and we don't want to die.

You got it, McGruber!  Whatever you say, chief.  Over the poles.  Well, it's been a good life.  

The moment of truth.

Instructor:  "You have the controls."

Me:  "I have the controls."

Instructor again: "You have the controls."

And I did.  That was better than any thrill ride I'd ever been on.  Better than zip-lining over a canyon. Better than whitewater.  Better than roller coasters.  It was completely over the top.  

But....when you look up a helicopter in the sky, and it looks like it's flying a nice, straight, pretty line....just know that a brilliant, genius, sorcerer is at the controls.  IT IS THE HARDEST THING I HAVE EVER TRIED TO DO.  And that includes playing a drumset!  Every single control input requires at least two other almost instantaneous inputs.  The thing just plain wants to crash!!  The pilot even said so.  He said "if you don't fly it, we'll die."  No pressure.  Somewhere I have a GoPro video of the flight, but it violates FAA regulations to even watch it.  LOL. 

I wonder if that flight lesson wasn't exactly like my life.  I want the controls....only to later realize that I have no idea what I'm doing.  Oh, I THINK I know what I'm doing, but I don't.  But God gives us free will, and usually, I'm sideways, looking at the ground that's rapidly approaching, signaling my imminent crash.  Kids are the same way!  They want the controls.  And we give them over so they will learn what responsibility feels like.  Hopefully they don't crash too hard.  I did several times.  And my mom helped me clean up, often times had to forgive me, and then she'd say, "try again."  

God is the same way.  He'll let us run with the line.  He'll let us do it our way.  He'll give us the controls because he gives us free will.  And in my life, it has been a constant that I will crash and burn every time.  Because I don't know enough.  Because I'm not a pilot.  Flying the helicopter wasn't really all that hard...but taking off and landing? That's the hard part.  Like life.  Being born is hell on the mom and baby.  It's traumatic.  Dying...that's hell on the family, and often times the one who is dying.  And in those moments, we seem to seek God the most.  We realize that we CAN NOT FLY THIS MACHINE ON OUR OWN.  And we turn the controls back over to the Creator.  

The questions I'm left with is why do I think I can handle the controls, ever, at any point in time????

What makes me think I know enough to run my own life?  At best, it would be a guess.  A shot in the dark.  I don't know what's going to happen in the next 5 minutes! Let alone the next 5 years.  

People worship all kinds of deities.  Mine is called God.  Some people call theirs Allah.  Some call theirs Buddha.   I'm not intending to argue religions.  The point of this rant is that there's something bigger than me.  Much, much, much, much, much bigger than me.   And I don't want the controls to that!

"Your son has autism spectrum disorder." 

--some school psychologist whose name I can't remember.  February 14, 2017

When I was in college, I took a class called Exceptional Children.  Good God, what foreshadowing that was.  Later, the course's name was changed to Diverse Learners or something like that.  I have no idea what edubabble title the course now has.  

I remember learning about mental retardation, and all the stigma that word carries with it, and how to diagnosis it using standardized tests (aren't we smart?!?!). 

 I remember learning about trisomy 21, though all I could really tell you about it today is that the 21st chromosomal pair has 3 instead of 2 chromosomes. 

I remember learning about Downs Syndrome.  I can't remember much about the cause, but I do know that every person I'ver met with Downs is happy as can be!

I remember learning about specific learning disabilities.  I later encountered these everyday at Andalusia Middle School and still see them at the college.

And I remember just a very little bit about learning about autism.  Seems like we just barely covered it, and looking back, I can't help but wonder if that's because we still seem to know so very little about it, and because it is so diverse in terms of how it presents.  

My very first introduction to autism was Raymond Babbitt in the film Rain Man.  His ability to memorize everything under the sun, INSTANTLY, was absolutely fascinating to me.  That ability, coupled with his inability to communicate with his brother, or anyone else, still, to this day, confounds my understanding of the human mind.  When those toothpicks feel on the floor and he said "46, 46, 46".....mind blown.  

If you don't know, autism diagnosis is governed by what is known as the DSM-V, or Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Illness, 5th edition.  In the fourth edition of the DSM, there were the following:  autism, Asperger syndrome, pervasive developmental disorder, and childhood disintegrative disorder.  When the fifth edition came out, all four were lumped into what is now called Autism Spectrum Disorder.  On February 14, 2017, my younger son, Jack, was diagnosed with ASD. His mother and I met together with a school psychologist that day for about 2 hours discussing our son.  We divorced in 2011, but we co-parent our kids, and we always put their best interests first, I'm proud to say.  The more we learned about ASD, the more we found ourselves saying "yes! that's Jack!" It was amazing, really.  We always thought he was just a unique, quirky kid.  We knew he was intelligent, but something just wasn't "right."  (I use quotation marks there VERY sarcastically.)

I began to study autism.  I talked with parents of kids who fall on the spectrum.  I read A LOT of stuff on it.  What I learned, if nothing else, if this: AUTISM COMES IN ENDLESS FORMS. 

You hear me?  END. LESS.  Think the paint color sample strips in Sherwin-Williams.  And isn't it great that there are 27583 shades of yellow? I think so.  

When we were discussing how to proceed with Jack, and specifically his IEP, he said something one day that just sat me down.  We were talking about to go about explaining his differences, and it really seemed like we were walking on eggshells.  Finally, Jack said this.

Why don't I just tell people that I have autism and that my mind works differently?  

The stigma? Yeah, apparently the grown-ups were the only ones feeling it.  Jack was all about full ownership of it. This is how it is.  Deal with it.  I'm different. Deal with it.  And I love Jack for that.  

I love that he is different.  There is already one me in the world.  And one you.  And one everyone.  We don't need another of anyone.  But we need a Jack.  And we need every kid who has every exceptionality under the sun.  Because they are exactly like God made them.  

In the last several years, there has been a monumental push toward acceptance of exceptionalities.  The actor John C. McGinley, who played my favorite TV character of all time, Dr. Perry Cox on Scrubs, was a spokesman for an organization that was focused on eradicating the word "retarded."  His son, Max, has down syndrome, and as a parent of an exceptional child, I know exactly why he supported that group.  

Truth be told, we're all different.  We're all exceptional in some way.  We're all better than and worse than.  We're all more than and less than.  We're all weird.  We're all unique.  And we're all the same because we're all human.  So what if our brain works a little differently or if we pronounce words a little differently.  SO WHAT.  It has taken me a long time to be able to see that I am probably at least a little bit autistic.  Heck, if you read the DSM-V, you'd see that WE ALL ARE.  

The problem is that society tries to push us into conformity ALL THE TIME.  But we can't all conform.  We can't all be the same.  And I'm glad of that.  Let's remember to keep the main thing the main thing.  When you look at a person,  remember that that's a soul you're looking at.  The body is just a shell.  

So...I'm glad we have a diagnosis. But only because it helps us to understand.  And to treat.  But labeling?  Nah, bruh.  Ain't interested in labels.....unless that label is "Jack."  

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,

I took the one less traveled by

And that has made all the difference.

"The Road Not Taken" by Robert Frost

Probably the most famous poem in all of American literature, "The Road Not Taken" grabbed my attention several years ago when Grant had to memorize it in fifth grade.  In his incessant recitations of it to prove to me that he had it memorized, I ended up memorizing it.  I never appreciated poetry when I was younger.  Steve Hubbard, Joe Wingard, Bev Smith, and all my other English teachers tried, and I did what many of us did: I learned it enough to pass the class.

But years, later, having taken many roads in life, I find that I relate to this poem on a deep, deep level.  As is always the case with Frost, he leaves it ambiguous.  He doesn't tell you which road he took.  Genius.

It seems like everywhere we turn, someone or something is telling us to go this way or that!

Here are a few examples....

Follow the leader, he's on a Honda. 

Think different.

Fly the friendly skies. 

Never Stop Exploring.

I actually chose BMW instead of Honda.  I own a few Apple products.  I prefer the cheapest airline. And I think The North Face is the third biggest fad company in all of recreation, behind Huk and Columbia.  (Seriously, how many people wearing a TNF backpack at LBW this fall actually know where the north face is?? But I digress....)

In the film Quicksilver, Kevin Bacon's character said something I've never forgotten.  Having lost his family's wealth in a risky move on Wall Street, he becomes a bicycle messenger.  While describing the freedom he feels on the bike, he says to a former colleague "the sign says 'one way east,' I go west: they can't touch me."  Boom.  An individual in New York!

Back to Frost....

In stanza one, he stands for a long time, looking down one path, and then he chooses the other.  In the second stanza, he says "then took the other as just as fair, and having perhaps the better claim, because it was grassy, and wanted wear, though as for that the passing there had worn them really about the same."  He goes on to say in stanza three that "both that morning equally lay in leaves no step had trodden black."  I think he's trying to console himself, and that perhaps he thinks that it doesn't really matter which path we choose, but I'm no Frost expert.  

But it is his last verse, he says that the path he chose made all the difference.  And this is true to the point that it's almost a "well, duh" conclusion.

Every day we choose a path. And the butterfly effect, at least according to Andy Andrews, assures us that the path we choose will affect people for generations to come.  Good lord, that's sobering.  Every decision we make takes us further down a path, and one day we'll be somewhere...anywhere...in life, and we'll turn around and look back whence we came and we'll see the choices we made.

The beautiful thing is that WE GET TO CHOOSE!

"The end depends upon the beginning."

--The Emperor's Club

In a few days, the students of Andalusia City Schools will return to class.  A week or so after that, the students of Covington County School will start back, and the next week, LBW Community College will begin fall semester classes.  It's a time of year when teachers feel a sense of excitement coupled with apprehension.  Students are usually a little bummed that their summers are over.  Parents are quite probably relieved.  I am both parent and teacher, so I feel it all.  I like routine, and I know full well that my children (and probably yours too) thrive on routine.  Before we all know it, football season will be nearly finished and we'll be thinking about Black Friday deals and Christmas trees....

My former chancellor Mark Heinrich said many times that teaching is sacred.  He's more right than right.  The job we do is of the utmost importance.  It is noble.  Since the invention of the printing press, when man first had widespread access to knowledge, western civilization has understood, instinctively, the value of an education.  In the Renaissance, books were status symbols.  In Shakespeare's play, Love's Labors Lost, three men swear off women for three years to devote themselves to read and study.  Of course, they each fail miserably in this attempt, and hilarity follows.  But the point remains: knowledge is worth attaining.  

So, back to teaching...

I'd say that kindergarten teachers are the most important teachers of all since they are the first teachers our kids have,  except most schools now have a pre-K, so perhaps they are most important.  Except kids start learning at home.  And at church.  And in line at Walmart.  And at the pool.  And while they are watching television.  

KIDS LEARN ALL THE TIME.  

And because they are learning all the time, we need to bear in mind that we are potentially teaching all the time.  All of us.  Not just our kids' teachers, but all of us.  Someone is always watching.  

A student of mine at Southwind recently told me he was changing his major from chemical engineering to music education.  I applauded him.  Of course, I reminded him that he would have to understand how much money he'd make and that he'd have to figure out how to live within that.  But I know what lies ahead of him.  The look on kids faces when they learn an instrument.  The joy that comes from such.  The fulfillment of teaching is hard to describe to those who don't teach, but it outweighs the salary ten-fold.  

Teachers are often said to be underpaid and under-appreciated.  Perhaps.  I guess it depends on many things.  But great teachers never got into the profession for the money.  We know we have the power to change the world and we don't take that power lightly.  Kids come into our classrooms at whatever state they are in, and, hopefully, leave better.  We pass them on to the next grade and the process repeats for 12 years until the student graduates.  Society sees the finished product, but they have NO IDEA what went into building that product.  Some of the work took place in the cafeteria in kindergarten.  Some of it in the hallway after PE in 4th grade when he or she didn't get picked first for a team. Or at all. Some of it in the office during a discipline referral in 8th grade.  Some of it on the band field in 10th grade. Some of it in the locker room after the game we won.  Or lost.  Some of it in a million other places and times.  And all of those educational experiences make the whole.  

Every teacher the student ever had had an impact on his life, and that impact will be felt FOREVER.  

So when we have a day that absolutely sucks, teachers, let's just remember why we do this noble work.  Start with "why," as Simon Sinek would say, and remember your "why." 

Have a great year, teachers.  You're insanely important, and don't you dare forget it.