Some Days, Working with Kids is a Mixed Blessing
I love my clients.
I love my clients.
I love my clients. Sometimes it takes a mantra to remind myself that I really do have a form of love for each and every one of the developing humans that walk into my music therapy room. This form of love helps me remember important things like, "Even when they are kicking or biting me, they are still learning a valuable lesson if I keep my actions kind, calm, and consistent," or "I cannot believe this is happening right now. I am the adult in this situation, and I will remain calm."
What could happen you may ask?
Every day is an adventure when you work with other people. I don't care if you are working in an office building, a hospital, or in a school like me - every interaction with another human is an adventure. I bring my part of every interaction, but the other side of the interaction is completely up in the air and dependent upon the other human. That's what makes interacting with others an adventure.
My students are wonderful for my self-esteem, insecurities, greatest dreams, and biggest fears. They remind me of why I feel this profession is so important. My students never forget something that they like or dislike, and they do not hesitate to tell me so. They have little to no tact at times, and are some of the most honest people that I know.
Last Wednesday was a day for screaming.
Every group session that I led had at least one person screaming, and in one group, everyone was screaming or in tears for at least half of the session. They entered the music therapy room that way, so I don't think that music therapy was the precipitating event, but I'm not entirely sure of that. At moments like those, I feel that my job is to assist students in calming using music to help. We do some reflective improvisation incorporating their sounds into the musical environment. Once I have their attention, we start to vector our moods - iso-principle! My session plans went out the window, and we went with the moment.
This week has been a week of back-handed comments.
"Someone smells like armpits. Is it you? You? You? Is it you, MJ?" [giggle]
"Remember that time you made a mistake and brought two Africas?"
"I think Katy Perry sings that better than you."
"Do you have arm wings?"
All I can say is that it is always an adventure with these kids - and the staff members that work with them. For the record, it may have been me who smelled like armpits - I had been outside working hard and had built up a sweat, but it was likely it wasn't me. I do have arm wings. I do remember when I made the mistake of the two Africas, and I am perfectly fine not sounding much like Katy Perry.
People - what an adventure!
I love my clients.
I love my clients. Sometimes it takes a mantra to remind myself that I really do have a form of love for each and every one of the developing humans that walk into my music therapy room. This form of love helps me remember important things like, "Even when they are kicking or biting me, they are still learning a valuable lesson if I keep my actions kind, calm, and consistent," or "I cannot believe this is happening right now. I am the adult in this situation, and I will remain calm."
What could happen you may ask?
Every day is an adventure when you work with other people. I don't care if you are working in an office building, a hospital, or in a school like me - every interaction with another human is an adventure. I bring my part of every interaction, but the other side of the interaction is completely up in the air and dependent upon the other human. That's what makes interacting with others an adventure.
My students are wonderful for my self-esteem, insecurities, greatest dreams, and biggest fears. They remind me of why I feel this profession is so important. My students never forget something that they like or dislike, and they do not hesitate to tell me so. They have little to no tact at times, and are some of the most honest people that I know.
Last Wednesday was a day for screaming.
Every group session that I led had at least one person screaming, and in one group, everyone was screaming or in tears for at least half of the session. They entered the music therapy room that way, so I don't think that music therapy was the precipitating event, but I'm not entirely sure of that. At moments like those, I feel that my job is to assist students in calming using music to help. We do some reflective improvisation incorporating their sounds into the musical environment. Once I have their attention, we start to vector our moods - iso-principle! My session plans went out the window, and we went with the moment.
This week has been a week of back-handed comments.
"Someone smells like armpits. Is it you? You? You? Is it you, MJ?" [giggle]
"Remember that time you made a mistake and brought two Africas?"
"I think Katy Perry sings that better than you."
"Do you have arm wings?"
All I can say is that it is always an adventure with these kids - and the staff members that work with them. For the record, it may have been me who smelled like armpits - I had been outside working hard and had built up a sweat, but it was likely it wasn't me. I do have arm wings. I do remember when I made the mistake of the two Africas, and I am perfectly fine not sounding much like Katy Perry.
People - what an adventure!
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