WEDNESDAY THOUGHTS: IS "EDUCATION NATION" THE NEW BUZZWORD?

I really want to see "Waiting For Superman". 

I'm interested in the whole "Education Nation" phenomenon.

 
I watched Tavis Smiley's interview with Geoffrey Canada and David Guggenheim, this afternoon. 

I liked what they had to say.
I hope that the increased interest in Education is not just a publicity stunt for the major players. 

I hope that it's not merely another political football. 

I hope school children actually benefit from all of the hype.

 
Face it. Talking about the problems with schools is one thing. Getting up every day and going to teach at a school-- in a nation where your profession isn't respected, but you're STILL desiring to make a difference in the lives of students--is another.

Do I want to return to the classroom? Is that what this is? 

Do I miss teaching? 

I have to admit, sometimes it's so frustrating listening to people who have a lot to say, but would never step foot into a public school. 

I feel such a burden as I watch anything regarding public schools. 

I'm a former student who remembers exceptional, caring, diligent teachers. 

I'm a former teacher, the mother of a successful student, and the daughter of an outstanding educator. 

I saw quite a bit in my tenure as a teacher, and came away convinced that children want discipline, need guidance, and will do what they are allowed to do. 

I'm convinced that teachers have way too much on their plates, that have absolutely nothing to do with the education of the children in their classrooms. 

When people don't respect what you do, or the time required to do it; if they think that what you do is trivial or too easy, they will endeavor to pad your schedule with what my former Design professor E,H. Sorrells-Adewale called "extemporaneous BS". 

Teachers are often inundated with busy work that cuts into valuable time--time that could be spent helping students.

I watched several education-themed interviews in the past few weeks, and I STILL didn't hear anyone bring up the problem of disruptive, disrespectful students, the need for effective classroom management, and the critical need for parental accountability and support. 

You cannot have an effective discussion on education, but leave out parents and their responsibility to require/demand their own children to simply follow directions, and show respect and common courtesy for the learning environment and the people in it.

Go to a successful school and look at their policy regarding student behavior. Look at what they will, and will not tolerate, under any circumstances. Look at what can get a child expelled, then compare it to public school policies. 

When children are instructed about rights without being instructed about responsibilities, it's difficult to maintain order. 

Anyone can learn when given the opportunity. 

Children prove, every day, their capacity TO learn, but the content isn't always healthy or appropriate. 

Learning can't take place in confusion. 

When students know that they can, without consequences, disrupt the learning environment, they will. 

In many public schools, the authority to maintain order has been snatched from adults, and many, in turn, have given up trying to get it back. 

It's sad when the only person learning in a classroom is the teacher. 

Too many parents leave their children in the care of others, but dare them to correct their behavior. 

I firmly believe that if the only person a parent requires a child to heed is him or herself, then they should consider home schooling their child.

Some excellent teachers, who started out wanting nothing more than to make a difference, are just tired of spending 60% of their days being ineffective disciplinarians, (who are daily in danger of being accused of corporal punishment) 30% in pointless, boring meetings that yield nothing of valuable use in their classrooms, and the other 10% producing dog and pony shows for administrator's photo ops.

I did hear in the interview, unfortunately, that the geographical location of a school often determines just how low or non-existent many people's expectation of student success really is. That is not new, and I experienced it first hand. 

I heard "these kids over here" every day of my teaching career. 

Some teachers simply stopped believing that their students could learn because they were stripped of all of the safeguards of an environment in which they could effectively teach. Many teachers regarded themselves as overpaid babysitters, and watched the clock until they could retire, or go and teach in Maryland or Virginia, where it seemed that teachers were respected as actual professionals.

Chancellor Michelle Rhee's problem was that she came in as an enforcing stranger, not an agent of unity. 

As always, when students aren't learning, teachers, no matter what the extenuating circumstances, are the first to blame.

 

When you are given a job and given directives, sometimes, that's all you focus on, and forget that there are human beings in your view. 

When you're cleaning house, every now and then something valuable ends up broken, or in the trash. The house is cleaner, but there's so much anxiety and suffering, that no one can function happily in it. There's so much animosity, that any good that has been done, doesn't even matter. 

Whether the chancellor stays or goes, will determine if she was working for the Mayor, on behalf of the children of the District of Columbia, or if the incoming mayor has any confidence in her.

It has always baffled me, over the years, that within the ranks of DCPS, NO ONE was deemed qualified to be the superintendent/chancellor. Someone was always imported from somewhere else. 

Rhee adopted the position of the little boy in the story "The Emperor's New Clothes". 

She called things the way she saw them, and folks felt she didn't have the right. Was it racial? 

Intellectual? 

Petty? 

Who did she think she was recognizing that a student, unless highly self-directed, could be no more proficient than the individual tasked to teach them each day? 

We don't like to be told that we are horrible when, for years, our deficiencies have been deemed acceptable. When there is a failure to correct a thing, it is soon considered normal.

I was a DCPS teacher for 16 years. I witnessed a great deal that made me shake my head, but I also witnessed excellent educators and administrators who were committed to the success of their students, and modeled the kind of behavior they expected to see. 

I know that there are excellent educators and public schools in DC, and the potential is there for all of them to be so. 

It's not where you live, but the attitudes and expectations of the people who live there, that matter. 

I grew up in SE, DC, attended DCPS until 5th grade, had a mom who taught in DCPS for over 25 years, and I still reside East of the River. 

I raised a daughter who attended DCPS. It was my aim that she attend the best schools DCPS had to offer. I was told which schools fit the criteria I wanted, and that's where she attended. She graduated high school, went on to college, and will soon graduate law school. 

I KNOW that DCPS can, and has worked. 

I had to do my part as a parent. 

I get messages from former students on a regular basis. 

They are contributing members of society holding varying degrees, and engaged in varying professions. DCPS is not, and has not been all bad. Sometimes, I admit I felt as if someone, somewhere WANTED it to be a failing system, and was deliberately working to make it so.

Sometimes, I think the panel discussion producers ignore the success stories--and there are scores of them. 

The common denominator is not wealthy parents, state-of-the-art technology, new supplies, or smaller class sizes. It's parents who aren't so litigious; who are honest about themselves and their children; who knew that if they wanted their children to learn, they had to be supportive of schools and teachers, and instill in their children a few things, including the following:
1. They were not adults, and not in charge.
2. Their job was that of a learner.
3. Education was important.
4. There were consequences for inappropriate behavior.
5. They were at school for the betterment of themselves.
6. There was a time to play. it was called "recess".
7. The teacher was not their equal, playmate, nor enemy.

The power struggle, arrogance, posturing and immaturity among adults has to end. Every adult in the educational process has to see themselves as a servant, not a king or queen who rules over others. When administrations establish an us-against-them climate where teachers work in fear for their economic future, belligerent parents abound, unruly students reign, and their professional competency is based on standardized test scores, what does one expect?

Leadership is required--not puppets who can be told what to do; not bullies with axes to grind; not people who have no vested interest in the education of children; not people with notoriety and fortune in their eyes; not people who spend little or no time in a classroom, and only pass through for Kodak moments. 

People who never cross the threshold of a school can't possibly create policy with any efficiency. Theory sounds good. Practice determines whether the theory is sound.

We can all sit around and talk about what ought to be, but without order--without embracing basic principles--without requiring, seeking, and expecting the participation of parents and students, NO school system can be successful, and teachers will always be the disrespected fall guys.

WEDNESDAY THOUGHTS: HOME CHURCH, FIRST?

A Facebook friend asked, "What happened to "HOME CHURCH first"? Wasn't that a rule?"

 
He added an "lol", but something told me he didn't really find anything funny about what prompted the post. 

It seems my friend is now tasked to find a replacement musician for this coming Sunday's services at his church. 

I could almost hear the frustration, but my empathy soon gave way to concern for the musician.

I have often heard "Charity begins at home, then spreads abroad". 

It seems that the absent musician may have looked for the quote in the Bible, didn't find it (because it's not there), and commenced to accepting, with a clear conscience, the other gig he was offered. Maybe it wasn't, but my first thought was that money was a factor in the musician's decision to let his home congregation figure out a way, this weekend, to keep the beat themselves.

I imagine that "Home church first" loses it's effectiveness when one's musical ability is also one's livelihood, and the bills are piling up. 

The absent musician's decision to take another job, may be less about loyalty and love, and more about economics. 

Bill collectors want cash--not corsages, trophies, certificates, chicken drumettes, sheet cake, and red punch--the things many churches sometimes regard as ample compensation for services rendered.

Just picture what the music ministry would be like, in every house of worship, if skilled musicians had nothing else to do except prepare for each weekly convocation, and NOT have to worry about their financial needs being met? 

But no. We want musicians to be at our beck and call for rehearsals and events-- in and out of the church--and then demand that they have traditional employment as well.

We have been known to brand musicians as "lazy" if they don't have other employment--as if perfecting one's musical skill does not take time, sacrifice and effort.

The church shouldn't be competing with the world for the hearts of musicians, but the world has mastered the art of sowing and reaping in a way that the many churches refuse to explore. 

The world "blesses" and ensures that it presents the best. 

The church often takes its best, and makes them feel bad for being skilled. 

In an effort to keep them "humble", lies, yes LIES are told about a church's ability to adequately compensate them. 

The money is there, in so many instances, but we will pay for EVERYTHING else--the hall, the tablecloths, programs, balloons, catering, flowers, the MC, the visiting preacher and artist, but won't pay in-house musicians. 

Then, we wonder where they are when we need them.

What happened to "HOME CHURCH comes first"? 

It has, in some cases, become the manipulative cry of modern day slave masters. 

When the slaves decide they like the benefits of freedom, and want to be paid for working, an attempt is made to make slavery sound like a little slice of Heaven. 

There's nothing heavenly about being broke and exhausted. 

Yes. Being a musician is WORK, and since many churches shouldn't dare pretend another day to be non-profit organizations, it's hard for musicians to see leaders continually prospering, and then graciously accept the words "We can't pay you".
Further, musicians are no longer feeling guilty about having the ability to feed and spend time with their families. 

While we are criticizing them for taking secular gigs, playing for various organizations, and not showing up, they're somewhere making a bank deposit, and their needs are met. 

They now have something to give besides their musical talent.

Perhaps if we would demonstrate to church musicians that we actually appreciate their skill, time and sacrifice, and stop looking at what they do as a really fun hobby that they are SUPPOSED to share with us, then NO church would ever be scrambling to find anyone who plays any instrument. 

If we really respected musicians, the way we respect other professionals, then every church would have a happy orchestra. 

It's amazing how we expect musicians to serve for little or nothing, at a moment's notice, and entertain us for every event. 

People with other professions in the church would NEVER be expected to offer their services at the same rate and frequency as musicians so often are. 

Unfortunately, musicians are among the professionals whose worth is frequently determined by others.

Every doctor, lawyer, plumber and electrician in the church is talented, too, but see what happens if you expect them to turn down an opportunity to increase their income, cut their rate, or offer their services for free. 

When a musician looks at the contents of an envelope, given to him by those who know and love him, then compares it to the envelope given by strangers, he can't help but want to further explore what his real value may be--away from home.

The illustration today is not one of my doodles, but from a painting by one of my favorite artists, the late Varnette P. Honeywood (1950-2010). It's titled "Jesus Loves Me".

MONDAY THOUGHTS: THE REFRESHING SOUND OF LIZZ WRIGHT

I was so excited this morning when Byron Nichols reminded me to take a listen to samples from Lizz Wright's new project "Fellowship". 

I listened and couldn't help notice how timely it was--as well as beautiful and thought-provoking. 
I've been an enthusiastic fan of Lizz Wright's music for 7 years. 

I looked to see if the review I'd written for Dawn Robinson's vocalmusician.com was still online, and it was. (I love the hoarding spirit of the internet! It lets go of NOTHING. Hmmm...Somebody might need to be reminded of that today before they do something unwise.) If you'd prefer to skip the reading and just dive into the listening, click on the title of this blog, go to Lizz Wright's Facebook wall, "LIKE", and listen. You won't be disappointed. Here's what I felt 7 years ago. Not much has changed, except Lizz Wright is no longer an obscure talent--and I think that's grand--because you KNOW how I adore good singing, and music of substance...: )

LIZZ WRIGHT at Kennedy Center and Blues Alley
by VANESSA WILLIAMS for VocalMusician.com

On May 10, my sister called and asked, "What are you doing?" Of course I was doing nothing, which is my usual posture when I have a chance to be at home. "I have tickets to the Mary Lou Williams Women in Jazz Festival [at Kennedy Center in Washington DC]." she said. "Teena Marie is supposed to be singing tonight."
I thought I could use a little "Square Biz" for old time sake, so I got dressed and went. The first offering for the evening was a wonderful female saxophonist. I'm ashamed I can't recall her name, and Teena was a no-show, but there's not much else I remember about that night, except the performance by a beautiful little girl wearing a long black skirt and burgundy wrap blouse.
She was thin, articulate, and poised. She didn't say very much, other than very humble "thank you's" to the thunderous applause after each tune, very brief introductions to her songs, and acknowlegement to those accompanying her. When she did utter words, it was hard not to even appreciate the tonal quality of her speaking voice as well.
She sang our souls happy, with a little neo soul/pop/jazz smothered in church gravy, then gracefully disappeared behind the curtains. I was glad that I wasn't the only one on my feet clapping like a crazy person, until she figured we hadn't had enough, and floated back to her mark. I didn't even realize I was in tears.
After she left the stage, there was chatter going on between total strangers. "Is that all?" "Who was that?" "Oh my, God!" "Have you heard her before?" People were reaching for programs trying to see in the dark. Programs tilted and lifted, trying to catch a glimmer of light to illuminate the name of the little girl who'd just left us so moved.
"How can you lose your song, when you have sung it for so long? And how can you forget your dance, your dance, when that dance is all you ever had?"...Audience members flocked to the tape tables during intermission, only to find that the little girl hadn't brought any product with her. We'd all have to wait.
Over and over like an echo, I heard, "May 13th?" "When?" "Someone said May 13th" "I think it's May 13". "What's her name?" May 13th couldn't come fast enough for me.
Her name was LIZZ WRIGHT. I suppose I've referred to her as the "little girl" for the following reasons:
1. Because she's little (not short- she just hasn't discovered the joy of the entire bag of potato chips)
2. Because I'm almost twice her age, (so I'm entitled)
3. Because I left the Kennedy Center proud to see a young woman present herself, and operate in her gift so effectively without relying heavily on the marvels of modern audio technology, or falling prey to "hoochification" (translation: presenting oneself in a manner that would disgust a seasoned prostitute, and declaring to the masses in tacky song and deed, that it is necessary to master an even lower form of Ebonics, sing explicit crap, and wear swatches of material and call it clothing). Yes, I am somebody's mother. Sue me.

I ran to "Sam Goody" to pick up her debut CD, Salt, and bought 3. I recommended it to the shopper next to me, and she bought it. I gave away the three I bought within 48 hours. I ran to "Willies", and bought 2 more. I gave those away. I picked up another one that I was determined to keep for myself. I gave it to my daughter, who gave it to a friend.
"Willie's" announced that the local stores were going out of business. I bought the 3 they had left at the store in my neighborhood. I replaced my daughter's CD, put the other one, unopened in my CD tower, and put the third in my CD changer.
It only came out to go with me to Blues Alley to be graced by Mizz Wright's autograph. I've since ordered 2 more online. When I mentioned her name in a conversation on singers during a recent trip, in the company of Richard Smallwood, he perked up in agreement. He'd already had some Salt, and he recalled his "Lizz moment" in a record store.
He said that he had asked the sales clerk if he was listening to something new by another fav, Oleta Adams. The sales clerk said, "No, it's a new artist - LIZZ WRIGHT." Richard said that he told the clerk, "I need that! I'll take that, too". That story prompted others in our group to pick up Salt at the nearest airport record store.
A friend told me perhaps I was just oozing "mother pheromones". Maybe I was just wondering what I could have been, or should have been doing musically when I was 23. Maybe I was just admiring her boldness and good fortune at such a young age. I hadn't bought that many CD's by one artist since Maurette Brown-Clark released How I Feel. I wanted everybody to hear what I heard. I had to make sure I wasn't just in a melancholy, motherly, my-baby-is-coming-home-from-college-mood that night at the Kennedy Center.
It wasn't a fluke. I wasn't just being polite. She was phenomenal; her voice was soaring, rich, and soothing - it was ministry. From torch-like, smoky, to playful, she gave so much more live, than the boundaries of the CD; the CD just hints at what I believe she can really do, but it in no way disappoints.
Another of Washington's best kept vocal secrets, Andrea Dumas, sent me an e-mail reminding me that Lizz would be at Blues Alley on September 3rd. Off I went with my daughter (who was born when Lizz was about 2) to the 8p.m. show. We met Andrea, and I think I ordered food, but I don't recall eating it. Lizz made her way to the stage and proceeded to walk us through her CD.

Again, she didn't say much, which left lots of time for her to sing. It wasn't a fluke. I wasn't just emotional. She was just as terrific as she was at The Kennedy Center, and the intimacy of the Alley just made it that much better. She didn't come with any of the vocal antics that seem to color what is now passing for singing. Every word, and phrase was deliberate and effectively delivered. There were no high high's, but the range she offered was wide enough. I hate to compare, because there is a definite uniqueness about her, but if I had to describe the evening, it was Oleta meets Lalah with a little Jill and Dianne… and everybody's 23.
"Walk With Me, Lord" wasn't an invitation to buck and shout, but a testament (without the actual testimony) that she definitely had a serious relationship with God. She wasn't merely infusing gospel in with the jazz set, making people wonder if she was confused, or unsure of her niche. It didn't seem as if she was groping for her own sound by tackling different genres. She didn't slip it in as if to say, "Oh, by the way, surprise, I'm a Christian, and I sneaked in here to save everybody on the DL". There was honesty in her delivery. There was no need for apologies, theological bull, or excuses to the saints, as to why she was in Blues Alley (and the saints were obviously there). It was clear that this young lady knows exactly who she is; her calling is sure, and wherever she goes, she need not alter herself to appease anyone.
Every song told a story; rose purely from her soul, and the peaceful, joyous look on her face said it all. From Brian Blade's arrangement of "Afro Blue", to the soulful "Soon As I Get Home", Lizz captivated the audience. She flashed a magnificent smile that said she was enjoying where the songs were taking her, and we were going along for the ride.
"Open your eyes, you can fly!" Ok, Lizz. I believe you, child. When she nodded to her pianist to play, "Salt", it was clear that everyone had been waiting for it. The CD delivers that little sermon-in-a-song marvelously, but Mizz Lizz put a little extra contralto stank on it at the Alley.
Poor thing tried to leave the stage when her set was done, but everyone was on their feet, clapping and cheering, and literally making it impossible for her to maneuver her way to the staircase to her dressing room. All she could do was turn around and take the stage for one last song- like we wanted her to. She laughed as she took the mike, and said we blocked her in on purpose. Yeah, we probably did.
Mel Prince was handling sound for the evening, and Lizz and her trio had just the right balance. The 10:00 crowd was milling in and I realized I was still in my seat trying to decide whether my credit card could take another hit. Andrea, Lisa, and I had the good fortune to meet Lizz, and I have to admit, I haven't been so psyched about an autograph in a long time.
"What is it", you ask? You don't get it? Frankly, I just appreciate good singing. If you're looking to follow up the cabbage patch with the new electric slide, the Salt CD's not for you. If you're looking for a lot of smoke, mirrors, and visuals that make you forget there's singing going on, Lizz live is not for you. If you know how to get into a zone where you just want to be moved, need a little encouragement, or just want to applaud a young lady who is using her powers for good, then try a pinch of Salt. I can only imagine her getting better over the years. I hope her label, Verve, is investing for the duration.
Check Lizz out on "Till Then", pianist Danilo Perez's new release, and revisit her on Joe Sample's "Pecan Tree". She'll be at the Birchmere [in Alexandria VA] on Monday, December 1, at 7:30. Taste for yourself, if you don't want to take somebody's mother's word for it.

SEE THE BEAUTY

I'm always reminded just how creative and excellent God is. There's so much beauty to appreciate; so many things that compel you to smile...and risk having your cell phone snatched out of your hand by the wind, and end up demolished under the wheels of a speeding vehicle...After I took the last picture, I thought I'd best not press my luck, put the window back up, and put my phone back in my bag.
The sky was especially beautiful. I thank God for the privilege to have seen it, the heart to acknowledge and admire it, and the ability to capture a little of it--and not lose my cell phone in the process...: )

SATURDAY THOUGHTS: POETRY PROMPT----HINDSIGHT

You removed every guardrail

Thought it would dissuade them

Tossed aside what they shared

Refused to engage them

Said they wouldn't fit in

Warned your friends not to call

Not to bother to aid

Not to choose them at all

You stood at every door

Undermined every task

Blocked each pathway while wearing

A welcoming mask

Made them think they were wrong

Unprepared; unequipped

And when they sought advice

You chose to be tight-lipped

‘Til you saw them outside

On a playground you felt

They’d never enjoy

It was for someone else 

You saw them embraced

Saw them doing just fine

Realized every effort to sway; undermine

Had failed miserably

What will you say, now?

What new scheme will you hatch?

What revenge will you vow?

Now, you smile in their faces

Drop their names with such flair

As if you as a friend 

Hasn't been a nightmare

Act as if you’re so proud 

You just want to keep tabs

But you can’t say out loud

Why you’re worried and mad

You waited for them 

To adopt your crude ways

To swipe, knock, and criticize

Retaliate—

Spend all their days

Building weapons of war

Transform into something 

They've not been before

But they never did

All they wanted, was peace

A safe place to exist

Where oppression would cease

But your greed and ambition

Your need to exclude

Your penchant to dominate

Your attitude

Governed how you treated 

Those you felt you don't need

How you wish they were here, now

To take the lead

To tackle the magnitude

Of what ensued

When unexpected storms

Violent and rude

Showed you what it feels like

To be battered and torn

Bewildered, frightened 

And left to mourn

One day you’ll realize the futility 

Of always competing; being insecure 

Of not really knowing 

Never being sure

Perhaps one day, give what you expect

Learn that being respectful 

Might earn you respect

Learn that being humane

Is a much better choice

Tables do turn, you know

Cries of help from your voice

Aren’t different than the cries 

You so often ignored

Perhaps, today you see 

What you couldn't before

EVENING PRAYER

Lord help us to follow you
To obey your rules, your laws
To keep you first in all we do
To champion each just cause
Help us to stay on the right path
To know where you stand on everything
Help us Lord
Help us to end our own suffering

How can we lead where we don't go?
How can we teach what we don't know?
How do we so easily forget we are Yours?
How can the world see You in us
How can they love or ever trust
If those who say they are your own
Seem so far removed from all You are?

Lord, let us start again
Wipe each slate clean
Restore, revive, renew, give life again
Help us seek You night and day
Please don't take Yourself away
And if we suffer, let it be for You alone
Not because of our own faults
Not for foolish, evil things
Help us not be the cause of our own suffering.

NOTES FROM THE WORKPLACE

"I was gonna leave, but when your boss starts saying things like he's got plans for the company's future and he sees you in them, it kind of makes you want to get just one more thing done."

I was so impressed when I read this. Good work ethic, integrity and efficiency are alive and well--or at least the mind to consider them. 
So many are on social networking sites all day, while at work, bemoaning the work they have to do. Yes. One's place of employment can be a source of frustration. These days, however, it would seem to be a good thing to be thankful that one has a job at all. That sentiment flies out of the window on a bad work day, though. 

I don't know what it is about Fridays at a workplace. The goal is to get to the end of the day, and jet out of one's place of employment with all deliberate speed. The writer of the note could have done just that. She could have left assignments to be completed another day, and showed everyone the back of her overwhelmed head. But she didn't.
Not long after I read her message I saw another one from someone else. "God, I hope my boss leaves early". 
I laughed.
I hoped the "boss" wasn't scrolling on the same social networking site.

TUESDAY THOUGHTS: REMEMBERING MALINDA SAPP

Each time I had the privilege to work with Marvin Sapp at Evangel Cathedral, I was always impressed by the way he spoke so highly of his wife and family. 

If only all men could refer to their spouses in such a loving and respectful manner! 

It was clear. Family was key. 

His role as husband and father, wasn't just an incidental part of his life. He seemed to be striving to demonstrate how things could, and should be done. He was extremely proud of his wife, and held her in such high esteem. He trusted her. 

He often remarked about how well she handled his business affairs, and how impressive she was in her own right. 

He said they met in elementary school. 

(I think it's so lovely when long-time friends marry.)

When I finally met her, she was as poised, gracious, beautiful, and intelligent as he'd said. 

It's so nice to see a couple who not only loved one another, but liked and celebrated each other, too. 

The happiness radiated. He wanted others to experience it as well. 

It was obvious. He relished being married. 

I remember him telling my friend Sharon Orr and me, that we needed to move to Michigan. "I'll have you both married in 6 months", he laughed. 

How my heart sank when I heard that MaLinda Sapp had colon cancer--the same cancer that plagued my Mom. 

When I read the messages reporting Lady Sapp's death, I was hoping they were just more premature, tactless rumors. Unfortunately, the news was true. There had been so many prayers, said on her behalf. There was such hope for so many days.

There is still great hope, even though things don't always make sense, or turn out the way we'd like.
Sometimes things just don't seem fair. 

Why a loving wife and mother? 

Why such heartache? 

Why so young? 

Why at this point in their lives?

I imagine that God knows we have questions, and he understands. He doesn't miss a thing, and is never blindsided by anything--good or bad. 

He's faithful and trustworthy. 

He hasn't let us down as of yet. 

The best thing to do, is to continue trusting Him. 

He sees us for who we are.

I sure don't know how anyone gets along in this life without God. 

I'm glad that Marvin is a friend of His. 

I pray that Marvin, Marvin II, Madisson, Mikaila and the Lighthouse Church family are comforted.
Death is no stranger, but sometimes it's tough to know what to say or do--other than pray, and thank God for the privilege of encountering, admiring, learning from, and being encouraged and blessed by remarkable individuals.

A memorial fund has been established to support the Grand Rapids Ellington Academy of Arts and Technology in honor of Lady MaLinda Sapp. Contributions can be forwarded c/o 

Mercantile Bank of Michigan, 

4860 Broadmore Avenue, S.E., 

Grand Rapids, Michigan 49512

AFFIRMATION

I know I'm not the only one who sees something that we usually take for granted and am reminded of the creativity and greatness of God...and then just have to tell him, "Lord, you are amazing."

THURSDAY THOUGHTS

1. The Anita Baker concert at Wolf Trap was fantastic. Hearing saxman Gerald Albright, was an absolute treat.

2. I had never heard of Vance Gilbert. I'm a new fan. I especially like the song "Unfamiliar Moon"

3. Daniel Moore's performance at Blues Alley was phenomenal. When he and Tony Walker did an impromptu piano duet of "What's Going On" I was smiling so hard my face hurt. The Terence Blanchard shrimp wasn't bad either.

4. I was so grateful to hear good music; so grateful that people still make good music.

5. I downloaded new music from Raymond Reeder, Yanna Crawley, and 21:03. Love it.

6. There's an exhibition of the work of the late Lois Mailou Jones at the National Museum of Women in the Arts in October. I can hardly wait. 

7. Clydes restaurant, at Mark Center, has a pretty good cream of crab soup.

8. Stash brand’s premium raspbery tea, is a new favorite.

9. Richard Smallwood with Vision will be participating in the Kennedy Center's Open House on September 11....and according to a commercial I JUST saw, Verizon's How Sweet the Sound Competition at the Verizon Center will be favored by guests Smallwood, and angel number one, Maurette Brown Clark.

10. I'm an official fan of the Jack LaLanne power juicer.

THURSDAY THOUGHTS: A BAD VOICE DAY

My voice was acting awfully shaky and shady, during a session at BIAS studios yesterday. It was disturbing. 

I was singing songs that I adore--songs that I've sung before with no difficulty--but yesterday, I was struggling. Some notes were landing, and others were elusive. Sometimes my voice was strong, and other times, extremely weak. It was a mess and I knew it. My voice and brain were disconnected. Unfortunately, there was no trap door to engage so that I could disappear.

Sometimes, you can compensate, depending on the song. Sometimes goofy things going on in your throat are actually kind of cool. 

These songs deserved excellence, and I wasn't delivering consistently. I wanted to quit, and suggest that someone else do the leads. 

I wanted to run to the parking lot to see if Dennis or Lisa were still there, and drag them back in. 

It's true. I prefer the comfort of the background. 

The enemy of my life knows it too, perhaps, because I've said it out loud enough times. 

When opportunities come for me to be out front, a little insecurity tries to creep in. 

Sometimes, I have been guilty of opening the door, letting it in, and offering it a seat. 

When you're out front, scrutiny finds out, and is on its way. It's hard to endure the things you love to do, being picked apart. When time and money are involved, being picked apart is a part of the territory, even if it's done nicely.

The microphone doesn't lie. 

Being in a studio is like being a part of a very sensitive science project. There's more mathematics taking place than a right-brainer like me can handle. Every breath, hiccup, smack, click, flat or sharp note has nowhere to hide. 

Sure, technology has a way of masking and correcting problems, but the goal, my goal anyway, is to spare the engineer from having to fix too many things. There's no skating or faking in a recording studio. Every sound you make is being documented visually, and audibly. 

One day, you may have to sing it LIVE. 

How shocked would listeners be if what they heard on the recording is NOTHING like what you perform in concert?

Was I tired, nervous, anxious, thirsty, or hungry? 

Am I just getting old? 

I did. I felt old. 

I was beating up on myself, and realized I wasn't making things better. 

Yesterday, some of the sounds I was painting weren't so pretty.

It doesn't matter what you're SUPPOSED to be doing, how many times you've done it successfully in the past, or what you know HOW to do, if the mechanism by which you do it isn't cooperating AT ALL. 

My voice was shot. 

The length of time that you've been doing a thing is not exempt from an occasional bad day. 

In my head, I could hear what I wanted to do. 

In reality, it wasn't happening, and I was so discouraged, and a little embarrassed. 

All I did was compound the problem.

Jim, Nolan, Joel, and Rob were so gracious. 

I saw their faces, though. 

Nolan came into the booth, hugged me, and asked me if I was alright. It did sound like there was something physically wrong. 

I heard that eerie silence that indicates that people are thinking, but just can't or won't say what they're thinking. 

I was playing what I imagined their thoughts were in my head, and wanted to run away. 

Even though they complimented the good parts, I was so convinced that there weren't any. 

I wanted to just sing it down, without there needing to be any cutting and pasting. 

Nothing they said made me feel better. 

It was pretty bad, and I knew it. 

It's one of the reasons I make a point not to laugh at singers, no matter how horrible they sound. 

If you're a singer, your bad day is coming, and you'd like a little constructive criticism and understanding, and even a viable solution as opposed to hearing 

"I think my ears are bleeding. That totally sucked. YOU suck." 

A bad voice day is worse when it's scheduled on a day you're supposed to expose your voice to other human beings.

Nolan had an idea. I had participated in the background vocals session that lasted a few hours. He suggested that I take a break, let Joel record his drum tracks, then try again. 

In all the years of recording, I had never, ever wanted or needed to take a break. 

I never wanted to stop--not even to eat. 

I wanted to just knock out the leads, and give the engineer and producer as many takes as I could. 

I was tired, though. I had to admit it. 

It wasn't the air conditioning. I was just tired. 

A tired singer is a silent singer--or a lousy singer. I'd learned that lesson before. What made me forget it?

When Joel was done, I went back into the booth. 

I felt better after the short rest. 

I drank the water I should have had earlier. 

I found a peppermint candy in my bag, and let it slowly dissolve. 

I did several takes, until I could feel myself getting tired again. 

When I was done, no matter how many times Jim and Nolan said it was fine, and they had enough to use, I knew I could have done better.

 

I backtracked. Yes. I'd stayed up very late the night before. That was not a good idea. 

I'd slept with the air conditioning blowing down on me. 

I'd eaten too late, and felt sluggish. 

I was winded. 

For years, I've had no set routine, or rules to take care of my voice. 

Perhaps it's past time to start one.

There are things that you know, and when you know better, you're SUPPOSED to do better. 

Yesterday, I had to re-learn a lesson. 

Fortunately it wasn't a matter of literal life or death, but when I can't sing, it does feel as if something in me is dying. 

It has been the way I connect to God. 

For a long time, I thought it was just between Him and me. He had to teach me otherwise, and, no matter how inadequate I may feel, He keeps fashioning circumstances whereby I have to come out of my very comfortable comfort zone, and share what He gave me with others.

Fortunately, yesterday, I was surrounded by people who wouldn't let me wallow in discouragement. Some people have more confidence in you than you have in yourself, and it encourages you to WANT to be, and do better. There are some people you just don't want to let down. There are people in my life like that. Encouragers. 

Everyone needs that. I think--even the most independent, self-motivated people could use a push, some affirmation, even a prayer on their behalf.
I got that yesterday.
Today, I'm glad I have a chance to rest. 

I'm so glad, and grateful I'll have a chance to try again tomorrow. 

I want to do what I know how, and love to do--and do it the right way.