“I’m Getting Paid to be here, You’re paying to be here”
-is something a colleague of mine said to a student in my first teaching job. Here’s what I learned:
(for the safety of the students involved, if I use a name other than my own, I made it up)
THE STORY
2016
In the summer before my first year (of one) at Xavier University, a drumline instructor job landed in my lap by way of my long-time private lesson teacher. The idea of teaching for money was an absolute dream for me at the time. The challenge: I was told about the position on the Friday before their first camp week.
side note (already): for most of the spring coming into that summer, I thought I was a shoe-in for instructor position opening at the school I graduated from. Come June, I was pretty heartbroken to find out that position was going to one of my best pals. Luckily he did a fantastic job with them. Looking back, I was foolish to doubt their decision. But I’ll save that one for blog post #2 or #3
Now, this is not the 2020 Patrick O’Rourke who might yank the microphone from the director in the box in order to tell a joke to boost band morale. Nay. This is 2016 Patrick who, on day one, said a total of 15 words to the students. A sheepish Patrick who, for the love of god, did not want to lose his first teaching job in less than three weeks.
He didn’t …
… and I credit that to a warm and welcoming band environment that was abundantly present at the school. Coming from the deep suburbs, teaching at a mainly urban school was easier than I thought. I could go on and on about how fun it was to teach at this school, and I might someday. BUT if I write with too much positivity, I’ll surely lose readers.
Fast-forward to October
There’s nothing more exciting (in my life, at least) than the last few weekends for a competitive marching band. The cool crisp air, shlepping thousands of dollars of equipment to another high school near the states capital, the show is pretty much complete, and the students have a little twinkle in their eyes because a few weeks from right now, they’ll be at home playing Xbox.
It’s the semi-finals competition. Our band needs to be in the top 10 in order to continue the season on and eventually play in an NFL stadium. So, this could very well be the last show. Our band was competitive, with a storied tradition of kicking ass. BUT we were in the most competitive class of bands.
Another Side Note: In the state where this story takes place, the “big school” class had, pretty much, the same exact competitive rankings year-to-year. Fun to watch, but if your school typically made the finals cut, the action doesn’t really fire up until you’ve reached “the dome.” Our class has schools winning one year and missing the cut the next.
The one thing every teacher wants (or should want) to see is the excitement level of their students surpassing their own. It was clear to me, at the semi-finals warm-up, that this phenomenon was taking place in just about every student. It adds a certain electricity to the air, almost like a replacement for caffeine (almost).
When I left for school in August, my position was taken up by an alumnus of the program (we’ll call him William). Even at 18, easily the cockiest I’ve ever been, I had no problem with him taking the wheel and running whatever the warm-up routine they had going while I was gone. My impression was that he left the program as a leader, and hadn’t been in a similar position for the 4-5 years since he graduated. Perhaps he saw this job as something in his life he could be in charge of.
Before the warm-up began, you could see the macho macho drumline boys turn giddy with excitement, a familiar feeling to musicians, actors and athletes before showing their skills to a large audience. Our star bass drummer (we’ll call him Jacob) was about to graduate after being in the drumline for five(?) years. Jacob was one of the only graduating seniors that year, and while he never wedged himself into a leadership position, he put everything he had into band. You love to see it.
Jacob, like myself, had a hard time containing his excitement mentally, so he moved. A subtle little sway, barely a dance, didn’t leave the ground or anything.
William and I set up the warm-up arc
William calls the line to set
Jacob continues to sway, visibly excited (and probably a little cold)
“Jacob, stop moving around, you’re at set” said William
“I can’t, I’m too excited” replied Jacob
“That’s okay, once we get playing you’ll feel better” is NOT what William said back
“I said you’re at set! Stand still like everyone else” William actually said
The excitement flees from Jacobs face. As if the hypnotist just snapped his fingers and he was suddenly back home on the couch.
“Don’t tell me what to f—ing do” Jacob says, quietly
At this point, I was too shocked to actually intervene. For I knew it could’ve been a lame, albeit intricate, inside joke.
“Stand f—ing still, you’re at set” William said, solidifying that this was not an inside joke
“I said don’t tell me what to f—ing do” Jacob said back
“I’m getting paid to be here, you’re paying to be here. Okay? Stand f—ing still.”
Both Jacob and William were steaming. William began to retreat away from the arc after I got the sticks out of my bag and began to start my version of the warm-up.
“okay” I said, still in disbelief. “lets all take a second, breathe.”
I went on with the warm-up.
Jacob stood still
Jacob lost that twinkle in his eye that I mentioned before
He took the exchange and carried it the rest of the day
He didn’t celebrate the band making it to state finals
He took it all the way to the dome
William took it as a win
The recap
I don’t hold grudges easily. I’ll wave to an ex at the super market, I’ll loan $20 to the roommate that used to take my things without asking.
My third grade teacher told me, after not having my homework done for the 20-30th time in a row:
“People can change”
All that said, how am I recalling this one conversation from four years ago word for word?
For the first time, I saw a teacher openly try to ruin the student experience.
Let’s break down the titular line here for a second.
“I’m getting paid to be here”
No music ed professor has taught me this, because it shouldn’t need to be said: money should be the furthest thing from your mind when teaching.
A. Because there’s so many more higher paying positions than teacher you could be in, if that’s really what you want
B. Earning money is usually associated with doing what you need to to earn that money. When I delivered pizza for a summer, I got paid to take pizza from the store to a house. I didn’t stay over time to great customers and make sure everything at the store was going well because that’s not what I was getting paid to do. Teaching requires you to take that extra step if you want to be even close to effective.
Right then and there William established the semi-finals day, not as any of that cool stuff I mentioned, but just his job. The students weren’t doing anything special, they were just his customers. The bands performance didn’t matter, because once they stepped on to the field, he could go home.
“you’re paying to be here”
Part of me thinks William was contradicting himself here. If I’m paying anyone for anything I should be the one in charge.
How would you feel if your barber shaved your head, citing only “you’re the one paying to be here?”
I think the point he was trying to make was: “I’m clearly more important than you, do what I say.”
I don’t think William is necessarily the worst guy in the world. I mean, he taught there for 2 1/2 months without getting fired. Actually, he didn’t even get fired after this. But my initial impression of him seeing this job as a way to regain the power he had as high school senior was proved oh so right. He’s a fine drummer, he’s successful in his career (I think), but neither of those things prepare you to teach.
My takeaways
Just don’t be a jerk. Especially if the setting is a high-school marching band competition (I mean come on)
I saw myself in William then and there and it scared the daylights out of me. When I was put in charge in high school I tried the iron fist approach. Didn’t work. In fact, I blame myself for the shortcoming of my section because I was just too damn mean.
When/if I’m a band director, I think the game plan would be to put a little extra effort into hiring a good staff. I don’t care if you’ve played in a symphony, I need people to inspire and support the students. It’s not your band, or mine, it’s theirs.
In every teaching gig I’ve had since that first one, I’ve probably put in too much effort for what I was getting paid. Making technique packets, writing warm-ups, running social media, talking to parents, and drafting show design ideas that I know will get rejected. I think I’d rather do all that to cause a positive experience for my students versus get paid double, triple, quadruple my salary.
Oh, and by the way. I actually wasn’t getting paid to be there when this happened. I drove two hours just because I had a free Saturday and missed that band. I’ve done that probably 7-8 times in four years.
Final side note: I’m not trying to come off like a seasoned teacher, because I’m not. There’s a chance that I’m wrong about all this. I just wanted to organize my thoughts on the situation.
Thanks for reading this far.
William, if you’re reading this, I’m not mad at you, I’m just disappointed. Jacob, if you’re reading this, wherever you are now, don’t let the Williams of the world ruin your day.
(again, all the names used in this blog other than my own are completely made up)