Waaaay back in May, I jotted down some notes about stories that I wanted to share ... so here's the tale of Choral Catastrophes: Ill children at performances ... and Threats.
In April, we qualified to participate in the state music festival. My students and I were elated and anxious about this opportunity, hoping to receive superior ratings as they had done the previous year with their former teacher. We were performing music of a higher level of difficulty, however, and we knew the standards were going to be higher this year.
The trip started out well; we arrived with plenty of time to spare before our performance. When I checked in, I was told that they were on time. Great! My students and I took our seats in the auditorium in order to watch other groups perform before we warmed up for our own performance.
We enjoyed the performance of the first group. Their final selection was a song I remember singing (and hating) in middle school. Part of the way through the piece, one of the girls in the second row wobbily stepped down to the front. The conductor saw her and began to move toward her. As she fainted, he miraculously caught her in his arms and began dragging her off the stage as his choir continued to sing. I gasped and my hand went to my heart. Other teachers ran toward the stage to assist the director, and one of them stood in front of the choir and conducted the beat pattern for them (which I thought was thoughtful but unnecessary) until the director returned.
When they finished the song, the audience applauded. Muffled murmurs permeated the crowd as we waited for the next group to take the stage. I was still shocked by what we'd just seen, and I planned to remind my students about our procedure if they felt unwell during our performance. In the next two performances we watched, at least one child in the ensemble sat down or left the stage. I knew my kids were scared, and admittedly, I was nervous too.
In the warm up room, we went over the procedure: Touch the hand of the person next to you to signal that you aren't feeling well, and use their hand, if necessary, to assist you as you sit down. We warmed up vocally, but the kids weren't focusing ... their nerves were getting the better of them ... and nothing I said seemed to have any impact on their singing. It didn't help that one of the festival helpers (a high school student) came back early to tell us they were ready for us on stage, and we didn't seem to have a choice in the matter, even though we were supposed to have a full 15 minutes to warm up. Due to the medical issues, they were running behind and were trying to catch up.
We filed out onto the stage, and the students assumed their places on the risers. They worked very hard, and our first piece, a fast-paced spiritual, went pretty well. I encouraged them to bend their knees as we waited for the judges' signal to continue with the next song, a ballad. During this song, one child sat down. By the time we finished our short third piece, three of my students were sitting down. As the rest of the choir began to leave the stage, I went over to make sure that those 3 students (now standing and waiting to leave the risers) were feeling OK. As I was talking with them, I heard a commotion offstage, and then:
"Miss LastName! Hurry!" I ran over, trying to get through the crowd of my students and discovered one child, lying on the floor, who was having trouble breathing.
"She's having an asthma attack!" Her friends informed me, frightened. I ran back to the stage and called loudly into the audience for our school's chaperones.
"Please bring the medical bag and meet us in the hallway. One of our students needs her asthma medication immediately! She's having an attack!" As I rushed back to her, I told the other students to make their way into the hallway, to clear space around her. The child's friends told me that she'd left her medication on the bus. One student volunteered to go get it, and I gave her permission. She broke off into a run as another student carried the sick child to the nurse's office, followed by a chaperone.
Just as this was happening, I heard my name being called again.
"So-and-so's just fainted!" Students were telling me, and I came over to find another child on the floor, and the students around her were saying that she'd just collapsed. I knelt near her, directing the other students to back away, she needed space. Another chaperone joined me as I spoke to the student. She was coherent but was complaining that the lights overhead were too bright. Another student volunteered that she thought this ill child had possibly hit her head when she'd fallen. My brain was racing as I had another student go get the school nurse while simultaneously praying that this child did not have a concussion. The chaperone stayed by her side as I tried to gather the rest of my choir and let them know that everything was going to be OK. I had them stand against the wall, and I discovered that two more children weren't feeling well. One felt sick to her stomach and another seemed to have a serious migraine.
I talked with those two students and the three who'd sat down during the performance as a wheelchair arrived for the girl who was quickly recovering from fainting. We waited for word of the girl who'd had an asthma attack and eventually found out that it hadn't been an asthma attack; she'd hyperventilated but was feeling much better.
We waited to hear about when we would sightread, and the minutes stretched longer. It seems that they skipped over us several times, and no one had spoken to me about it. In the meantime, I had my students sit against one wall of the wide hallway, hoping that this would prevent any more medical issues. Then the bell rang in the school to signal the change in classes for its students. I stood in front of my students, telling them to stay seated but urging them to get as close to the wall as possible so that there was still plenty of space for the few passing students to get through.
One girl rounded the corner and saw my group of my youngest (and very sweet) students sitting there. She looked at them threateningly, and said with an attitude and air of superiority, "Yeah, that's what I thought."
I looked at her with a raised eyebrow and firmly said, in a warning tone, "Don't talk to my students."
She eyed me before cattily responding, "Shut the F#$% up," and pausing briefly to see my reaction. I really wanted to sink my nails into her and wipe that asinine smirk off her face. Instead, I closed my eyes for a millisecond, praying that God would help me keep my calm. I chose to take the higher ground and ignore her, as there were no school employees or administrators in sight, and it wouldn't be a good idea to bodily drag her to the office. My students gaped at both of us in shock- at this sassy high schooler who had dared to defy their teacher (and use such language!) and at their teacher who'd maintained her composure after being so insulted for defending them.
When they mentioned it later to me (after awhile, because they weren't sure how I would react), they were impressed that I'd kept my cool.
"I can't believe she said that to you, Miss LastName!" I smiled haughtily, a delicious but wicked thought whirling in my head which escaped through my lips before I could stop myself.
"Well, as you know, some people have an extremely limited vocabulary. You just have to feel sorry for the people, like that girl, who just aren't that intelligent and don't have the ability to express themselves in a better way."
***
It was nearly an hour after our performance that we were ushered into the sightreading room. Literally two minutes more, and I would have forfeited our score because it was getting late, and I was concerned about feeding the students lunch and getting back to school in time.
The sightreading went OK, even though the judge was someone under whose direction I had sung as a high school student in a choir festival, and my dislike of her hadn't changed since then. We hurried to our bus, not waiting to receive our scores. I didn't really want our scores then anyway. I knew the students had not sung as well as they had in the past and I didn't want to add that disappointment to an already challenging day.
We stopped for a fast food lunch, as our reservation at a nearby buffet had come and gone long ago and we were running out of time. By now, I was concerned that we were cutting it very close to getting back before the school day ended. The bus drivers then decided to take the main highways back to the school, which might have been a good idea if it weren't during the beginning of rush hour on a Friday afternoon! I called the school to say we might not make it back in time, and shortly thereafter, we began calling parents to pick up their kids. (I guess that, for once, it was an advantage that nearly all of my teenybopper students had their own cell phones.) We returned to school about 25 minutes after the school day ended, and one of the administrators volunteered to wait with the kids in my place after hearing of the mishaps we'd had.
It was an exhausting day. Nothing like baptism by fire for a first year teacher ...
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