by Donna Swagerty Shreve

The year was 1983 and I was teaching fifth grade at Henderson in Lodi Unified School District. I had my oldest son as a student because it was the only way I could keep him in the GATE program. As a parent had pointed to me as I made my decision, Aaron would miss out on all of my efforts that I put into my classrooms. Gifted fifth graders can be very aware and curious. They are not real forgiving if they are insulted. My challenge was to create an atmosphere where they could soar. Of course they also had to be pushed. I had to walk a fine line between reward and consequences to achieve various goals.
During this time, classroom teachers received three preparation periods a week where the classroom teacher got a break from the classroom to prepare their curriculum. The students got a music, art and physical education teacher in exchange. Being that Henderson was a small school and at the outer border of the district, new prep teachers usually started out in a rotation that included Henderson along with other small outlining schools. The good ones quickly moved on to a better assignment and the bad ones moved on to another district.
I introduced a classical composer each month and played that composer’s music during work times. Any other music was me teaching folk songs with my baritone ukelele that went along with our study of our early history. I tried to make the music fit the circumstances. I certainly did not have a trained voice but we got by.
In 1983 we had a new music teacher. She was not a young teacher and had the appearance of a typical older school marm with her hair style and choice of clothing. She tried so hard but was having difficulties with classroom management. She came to me on several occasions because my class was giving her the most problems. I agreed to stay in the room for her next lesson. I sat at the back of the classroom and corrected papers that were always accumulating. It was hardly a prep period but I was willing to help her as music was not being taught when certain students were fine tuning their disruptive skills.
She walked in and set up at the front of the class. She place a tall vase of pussy willows on a front table. She then took out some hand bells. She chose a few students to each hold a hand bell and they would ring it when she pointed to them. I noticed my son was one of the students up front holding a hand bell. She had chosen a children’s song that clearly demonstrated the progressive notes of a major chord. Each student got to ring the bell in turn and a chord was played in order.
She decided to teach her favorite song by singing it first herself. She had a strong soprano voice with a lot of vibrato. She actually took out a tuning fork and played her first note.
First bell rung
“I have a little pussy”
Second bell rung
“It’s fur is soft and gray”
Third bell rung
“and I like to pet it”
Fourth bell rung
“every single day.”
Almost immediately I had a classroom of students looking directly at me, as if to say,”Can you believe this? Do we have to put up with this?” I was in disbelief and fighting the giggles. I gathered up my papers and simply left the classroom. I figured if she was that clueless, I could not help her. When I made it to the hallway, I actually let loose with some suppressed giggles.
A few weeks later, she came to me again with another request. This time she needed my help getting her shoe back. She was wearing ill fitting shoes and had taken them off in my classroom while she was teaching. When she went to leave, one of her shoes was missing. She demanded that it be returned but received no help. After lunch I simple told the class I was not interested in who hid the shoe but please someone just say where the shoe was located. Several people pointed to a waste basket located near the front of the classroom. I retrieved the missing shoe and asked for a volunteer to take it back to the music teacher.
Fortunately I can not remember any other incidents as the year continued. I am not sure if she finally gained control or the students lost interest in their torture. We received a different music teacher the next school year.
782 words
2/16/2022