Symphony rehearsals until 10 pm followed by jazz band at 6:30 am was my schedule for years. The new me (post transplant me) isn't able to keep up with that schedule. I'm at home on sick leave, had a fever last night and slept for twelve hours. Once again I understand that my doctors weren't kidding when they told me I'd be extremely fatigued. I just want to feel normal again.
Wednesday, March 30, 2016
Saturday, March 26, 2016
Deception
Cancer can kill but the treatment to prevent death is much more miserable than I anticipated. The tradeoff of taking the treatment versus the alternative is a no brainer. Nearly everyone would prefer a time of misery over death. In my hurry to get back to my former life of playing and teaching music, I've learned for the hundredth time that my doctors were right. It takes a long time to feel normal, to have enough energy to get through a day or to just be awake for more than twelve hours at a time. They say it will take about a year after the last transplant which happened on November 6, 2015.
Since starting work full time, the toll is significant. By the end of the teaching day, I feel like collapsing. My extra projects are all on hold due to a lack of energy and a need for sleep. So far, I have been able to put on a happy face and force an energized appearance but I know it's not the real me. It's a deception aimed at my students to keep the focus on the music, on the upcoming concerts and on graduating another outstanding senior class of musicians.
Thursday, March 24, 2016
Side effects
Medical science is amazing. So many people (including me) are alive today due to recent advances but with each advance, there are negative reactions otherwise known as "side effects" that can wreak havoc on otherwise grateful patients. Side effects are just a part of the whole package. If you want to get better, you'll have to go through dozens of types of new sicknesses as a penalty for beating the major disease. This is old news. Everybody seems to understand and accept it.
After having two transplants and given dozens of potent drugs every day, I knew I would experience negative side effects. The part I didn't realize is the huge variation of those side effects from one patient to another. Other patients and I would frequently compare symptoms. One would have massive nausea, while another would have a severe skin reaction and another might have nothing, all from the same new drug. This leaves the doctors chasing individual problems for each patient even though the cause may have been the same medication or procedure.
My own most frequent side of effect from the past eight months is severe fatigue. I took a day off today and slept for eighteen hours! When healthy, I functioned just fine with about six hours each night. While I was in Seattle, I would have normal energy one day, then be exhausted the next. It was completely unpredictable. The only change between two months ago and today is the days of being exhausted are less frequent. Every now and then, I realize the team of doctors and nurses who repeatedly told me it takes about a year to get back to normal must be correct. The length of time to heal seems to be the only aspect of side effects that's consistent for everyone.
Sunday, March 20, 2016
Statistics Lie
After more than a year of having cancer, I just did the unthinkable. I googled multiple myeloma statistics. I have been telling people to NOT bother with statistics posted on the web. The good doctor in Anchorage who was optimistic about my odds warned against reading those websites. He said they’re outdated and primarily for patients in their 70’s and 80’s. He also explained that there isn’t a statistic for me, a 56 year old, otherwise relatively healthy male.
After finally breaking my own rule and reading the statistics, I can see the wisdom in the doctor’s warning. They show a very depressing outlook on the effects of the disease. First, it’s very rare. 1.6% of all cancers are multiple myeloma. The most frightening statistic is that only 46.6% of patients survive five years after a diagnosis. If you were to stop there, it’s time to be nervous. The odds are, I won’t survive the next three years and about 7 months.
Reading more statistics however, shows that the median age of a diagnosis is 69. The average death from the disease is 75. The study ended in 2012. These numbers would be relevant if I were 69 at the time of my diagnosis (I was 55) and if I contacted the disease at least five years before 2012. Everything the doctor said was accurate. This study is already outdated and does not apply to people who are younger than 69.
At least now I understand why so many friends and family thought I was in serious trouble. I certainly could have been but the odds for myeloma victims at my age in 2016 are simply not calculated. I know my personal odds are 100% to live a very long life.
Friday, March 18, 2016
Boat for sale
I'm in Homer right now. For the past ten years, I have spent the month of July fishing in Kachemak Bay. It's called the Lower Cook Inlet, Salmon Purse Seine fishery. Although seine boats are the largest commercial salmon vessels, the Lindy is only 32.5 feet long. It's the smallest seiner I've ever seen. It takes a crew of four, uses a skiff to stretch the 1200 foot net across they water. Seining can be very lucrative but it usually isn't in Lower Cook Inlet. Of about eighty permit holders, only eight to ten fish each year. Some do well, some try to break even and some lose money due to the many expenses and lack of fish or low fish prices. I've experienced all scenarios.
It's time to sell the Lindy with the skiff and permit. I'm in Homer to fix a couple things and put it up for sale. If it sells, it will go a long way to paying many of my new bills. Even though it's being sold because of my recent illness, I have no regrets. The month of July can now be free to do something else. I will also be quietly saying goodbye to a culture of commercial fishermen. They're a unique bunch.
The fishermen that I've worked along side for years are mostly friendly. Now and then, they may show frustration by yelling at other boats or ramming a boat by "accident." I saw one fist fight between two boat owners but they were also brothers. Most seiners leave Homer on Monday at 6:00 a.m. and return late Friday evening. For the most part, these boats don't have showers, the food is cooked by whoever knows how to cook on a diesel stove and the four bunks are squeezed into the bow of the vessel. If two crewmen don't get along, they have to work through it because they're living, eating, working and sleeping together for five days at a time.
Every now and then, a boat will head back to Homer in the middle of the week. One of two things just happened. They may need a mechanical part like a new prop for the skiff or a new starter for the main engine or a crewman isn't working out and needs to go home. Either way, that boat is loosing money by not fishing.
When a location is found where the fishing is hot, it's kept a secret for as long as possible. Whenever I would cruise by another seiner and ask, "How's fishing?" The reply was almost always, "Not very good!" This could mean the fishing is truly not very good or it could mean it's fantastic so you should move on. In other words, the answer is always meaningless.
I won't miss any of this. The part I will miss is just being on the water for a month. There is something calming and comforting about living on a boat, getting up in the night and watching a group of otters float by on their backs or watching the many bald eagles own the sky as they search for fish that swim too swallow in the bay. It's a different world and a beautiful one.
It's time to sell the Lindy with the skiff and permit. I'm in Homer to fix a couple things and put it up for sale. If it sells, it will go a long way to paying many of my new bills. Even though it's being sold because of my recent illness, I have no regrets. The month of July can now be free to do something else. I will also be quietly saying goodbye to a culture of commercial fishermen. They're a unique bunch.
The fishermen that I've worked along side for years are mostly friendly. Now and then, they may show frustration by yelling at other boats or ramming a boat by "accident." I saw one fist fight between two boat owners but they were also brothers. Most seiners leave Homer on Monday at 6:00 a.m. and return late Friday evening. For the most part, these boats don't have showers, the food is cooked by whoever knows how to cook on a diesel stove and the four bunks are squeezed into the bow of the vessel. If two crewmen don't get along, they have to work through it because they're living, eating, working and sleeping together for five days at a time.
Every now and then, a boat will head back to Homer in the middle of the week. One of two things just happened. They may need a mechanical part like a new prop for the skiff or a new starter for the main engine or a crewman isn't working out and needs to go home. Either way, that boat is loosing money by not fishing.
When a location is found where the fishing is hot, it's kept a secret for as long as possible. Whenever I would cruise by another seiner and ask, "How's fishing?" The reply was almost always, "Not very good!" This could mean the fishing is truly not very good or it could mean it's fantastic so you should move on. In other words, the answer is always meaningless.
I won't miss any of this. The part I will miss is just being on the water for a month. There is something calming and comforting about living on a boat, getting up in the night and watching a group of otters float by on their backs or watching the many bald eagles own the sky as they search for fish that swim too swallow in the bay. It's a different world and a beautiful one.
Sunday, March 13, 2016
Self diagnosis
For the past several months, I've resisted the temptation to think that I know what's best for me. While surrounded by medical professionals, many with decades of experience regarding multiple myeloma, it seemed foolish to state my opinion or to diagnose myself regardless of my certainty. Now that I'm more on my own, I'm free to make decisions about personal health, decisions that may determine how much activity to expend in a day or which optional drugs to take. It's a very different direction from my Seattle day to day life and so far, I enjoy it very much.
The looming question is about activity. Should I be working? The doctors in Seattle strongly cautioned against it. They didn't say with certainty to stay at home every day but the protocol is to not work for an entire year after an allogeneic transplant. This is where I believe my case is different from others. It is no doubt best for some patients to recuperate for a year before resuming activity. Everyone responds to the treatment differently and most respond with more medical issues than I have. In my case, the best treatment is to resume activity as soon as possible and I have rational reasons to make that diagnosis.
I've been in Alaska for two weeks now. It's as if the medical side effects have been placed on a dusty shelf of my mind. They're all there but they are not as noticeable. When I think about it, I still have numbness and painful tingling in my feet, daily muscle cramping in the legs and fingers, various GI issues, extreme fatigue at times, frequent headaches, buckling at the knees, numbness in the fingertips, occasional nausea, pain in the shoulder from radiation and various, weird cognitive issues. While I was in Seattle, I would have hours each day to focus on these side effects but now, my schedule of work and mental focus on the task at hand doesn't allow for time to think about it. When a single medical issue flairs up, I notice, otherwise it's not an issue.
I have always believed that working through pain makes it hurt less. In this case, working through these issues makes them much less noticeable. However, I'm getting over a very serious disease and I'm still taking ridiculous amounts of strong drugs each day. I understand that there is a danger in ignoring medical problems. Without a doubt, certain small medical issues are signs of something that could be serious so I still call the medical team in Seattle with questions. They are the true experts.
Wednesday, March 9, 2016
It's Almost Over
My fight with cancer isn't over yet. That fight will be over within weeks or possibly months. I will spread the word when I have won the battle once and for all.
I have called the past many months the most difficult time of my life. That's an understatement. With well over three hundred medical appointments, more than three weeks in the hospital, countless days of sickness and a relocation to Seattle for eight and a half months, this experience will be embedded in my mind for decades to come. There were times of depression and sadness, loneliness and solitude. With each passing day, new issues would surface causing pain, discomfort or sickness.
I noticed that a common question for cancer victims is "Why me?" That didn't occur to me. It happens to thousands of people each year. A different question came to my mind frequently. Whenever I would see a child at the clinic suffering from an evil that they can't understand, I was compelled to ask, "Why them?"
Not everything from this experience was difficult. There were many times of overwhelming gratitude to friends and relatives for their concern, their prayers and help. There were times of feeling healthy which stood out while living in the sea of sickness that surrounded me. There were also countless moments of feeling lucky. So many patients were not taking their treatments as well. I was asked who I was taking care of dozens of times by others who didn't realize I was the sick one. My side effects from medications and procedures were almost always less severe. It may sound odd for a tandem transplant patient to feel lucky but while I was in Seattle, surrounded by a sea of suffering my feeling of "luck" was compelling. It was very real while self-pity was not an option.
My most constant certainty was a determination to own my body and mind. There wasn't a single day when the cancer didn't try to enter my soul, to become the primary occupant of myself. Every sickness, fever, pain and discomfort felt like another attack, another attempt to enter my identity and convert me from a person with cancer to a cancer patient who used to be me. That certainty to keep ownership of myself was my motivation to keep going, to push through to the next procedure, to endure whatever punishment the drugs could give me and to stay positive in an environment where enormous doubt hung over people like an unforgiving storm cloud. Holding my own identity allowed me to dream of the future beyond cancer, to focus on life long projects that are meaningful and to treat cancer as a temporary bother rather than an all consuming evil that has already taken so many.
As with several other patients who remained positive, I found it to be therapeutic to share that attitude with others who were not as fortunate. Lifting a cancer patient's spirit with a story or a joke or just a smile became a personal mission that was probably more beneficial to me than those who I was attempting to help. It gave me purpose beyond my own health and allowed me to forget that I actually had a worse case of Myeloma than virtually everyone around me.
All of this is in a past that I don't plan on repeating. The focus now is to enter another medical phase called recovery. My immune system is medically suppressed. I'm constantly reminded by medical personnel that germs can kill. As expected, I have chronic "Graft versus Host Disease" or "GvHD." That's the disease caused by a fight between my body and the foreign bone marrow and blood within me. As with so many possible side effects that surfaced, my symptoms were different and fortunately not as severe as others. I've been warned that people still die from GvHD but my symptoms have been tamed by more drugs. This new disease is not a daily issue for me.
Currently, I take about thirty pills each day, each prescribed by the doctors in Seattle and each with a long list of possible side effects. I'm experiencing some of those side effects every day but my work, sharing music with high school students takes my focus away from health issues and gives me a positive outlook to life through the eyes of young people. But as one great evil recedes, another comes forward. Now that cancer is not bombarding me each day with attempts to take me, another version of cancer has emerged. It's time to pay the ongoing and seemingly forever growing bills. In this case, I do ask, "Why me?"
Now that I have been told countless times by doctors as recently as yesterday to relax and let the recovery happen over time, I've been hit with new medical bills over and over again. I have been grateful to so many friends and family who have donated to cancer funds in my name to help with these bills but the stress of the constant financial strain makes it nearly impossible to "relax and recover." I've been hit with countless examples of insurance denials for every reason imaginable. They add tremendous stress to patients like me who are supposed to focus on physical recovery and wellness.
One of my required medications is considered a chemotherapy. It's extremely important to help kill the remaining cancer cells. The small drug company who sells this drug has put a price tag on a single bottle of twenty-one pills at $14,000. That's not a misprint. That's more than I have ever spent on a car. However, this company has a special program for lower income individuals to sell this bottle of pills for well under $100. My doctor signed me up for this program without asking and I'm glad she did. However, yesterday, I received a letter from the company saying they are auditing my finances. Their concern is that I may earn too much to qualify for their special program. Now, I'm forced to send a private drug company pay stubs and tax records to prove that I'm not one of them, just a high school teacher with thirty-three years experience and almost two Master Degrees who easily qualifies as a low income person in desperate need of their drug.
A quick Google search of this company reveals that their top executive was paid twenty-four million dollars last year. Their seventh ranked executive earns just three million. I don't know how he gets by. This is the company that wants my tax records to make sure I earn several hundred times less than they do. You would think that of all of those multimillion dollar executives one of them could have figured out the price they are charging for each pill. The answer is $666. Somehow, that seems fitting.
If not for the forced kindness of friends through donations on GoFundMe and other fundraisers at school, I would be paying the medical bills with credit cards. I plan to sell a fishing boat in Homer to help pay the bills and I just heard that more fundraisers are on the horizon. When the fundraisers started, I was terribly embarrassed but the wisdom of one of my high school students described it in a way that I can deal with. She asked what I thought of her starting another fundraising event. I told her how difficult it was for me to accept the kindness and especially to accept charity. She said "Everybody likes you and they really want to help." At that point I realized it's not really about me. It fills a need for students to do something for someone they know. I know that need. I have put on large fundraising events for music teachers in the past who had cancer. I felt compelled to help and I realize now that the tables have turned and others feel compelled to help me.
Writing these blog entries was very therapeutic while I was at the clinic. I haven't read any of my blogs from the past and I probably never will. Reading my previous entries would remind me of a pain that I would like to forget and an insight of my inner being that I have never previously revealed to anyone. I'm more comfortable trying to ignore pain, working through it and going on with my day.
At this point, I'm considering stopping the blog and moving on with life but I'm still getting interest (34 people checked it today before this entry.) I have also been asked to keep it going by a couple readers so I'll ask you. Should I keep it going until the cancer is completely gone? My concern is the interest may wane as time goes on. Please send me your thoughts. I'm happy to go either way on this. There will be at least one more blog entry and more if there is interest.
Blog Statistics as of March 9, 2016:
Total blog entries: 84
Total pages viewed: 16,508
Total comments received: 160 (also received more than double that number through standard email)
Top twenty blogs entries, viewed
978 views “Summary of my treatment” (first blog in July)
440 views “Two steps forward and one step backwards” - 7/14/15
285 views “Missing a Wedding” - 8/1/15
184 views “Recovery Time” - 7/29/15
169 views “Stem Cell Collection is Done!!” - 7/25/15
162 views “Banjo Time!!” - 7/19/15
147 views “Feelin’ Good” - 7/15/15
120 views “Longer Treatment Plan” - 8/4/15
119 views “Go Mustangs!” - 8/12/15
119 views “Back in the Saddle Again” -7/15/15
110 views “Misery” - 11/24/15
109 views “Time to Harvest!!” - 7/23/15 109
101 views “The Cold, Hard Truth” - 11/1/15
101 views “Neutropenia” - 7/21/15
98 views “North to Alaska!” - 9/19/15
90 views “Dark Times” - 8/26/15
90 views “Cancer Takes and Takes” - 10/9/15
90 views “Music versus Cancer” - 11/19/15
90 views “Door Decorations” - 12/20/15
90 views “State of the Mike Address” - 1/14/16
I have called the past many months the most difficult time of my life. That's an understatement. With well over three hundred medical appointments, more than three weeks in the hospital, countless days of sickness and a relocation to Seattle for eight and a half months, this experience will be embedded in my mind for decades to come. There were times of depression and sadness, loneliness and solitude. With each passing day, new issues would surface causing pain, discomfort or sickness.
I noticed that a common question for cancer victims is "Why me?" That didn't occur to me. It happens to thousands of people each year. A different question came to my mind frequently. Whenever I would see a child at the clinic suffering from an evil that they can't understand, I was compelled to ask, "Why them?"
Not everything from this experience was difficult. There were many times of overwhelming gratitude to friends and relatives for their concern, their prayers and help. There were times of feeling healthy which stood out while living in the sea of sickness that surrounded me. There were also countless moments of feeling lucky. So many patients were not taking their treatments as well. I was asked who I was taking care of dozens of times by others who didn't realize I was the sick one. My side effects from medications and procedures were almost always less severe. It may sound odd for a tandem transplant patient to feel lucky but while I was in Seattle, surrounded by a sea of suffering my feeling of "luck" was compelling. It was very real while self-pity was not an option.
My most constant certainty was a determination to own my body and mind. There wasn't a single day when the cancer didn't try to enter my soul, to become the primary occupant of myself. Every sickness, fever, pain and discomfort felt like another attack, another attempt to enter my identity and convert me from a person with cancer to a cancer patient who used to be me. That certainty to keep ownership of myself was my motivation to keep going, to push through to the next procedure, to endure whatever punishment the drugs could give me and to stay positive in an environment where enormous doubt hung over people like an unforgiving storm cloud. Holding my own identity allowed me to dream of the future beyond cancer, to focus on life long projects that are meaningful and to treat cancer as a temporary bother rather than an all consuming evil that has already taken so many.
As with several other patients who remained positive, I found it to be therapeutic to share that attitude with others who were not as fortunate. Lifting a cancer patient's spirit with a story or a joke or just a smile became a personal mission that was probably more beneficial to me than those who I was attempting to help. It gave me purpose beyond my own health and allowed me to forget that I actually had a worse case of Myeloma than virtually everyone around me.
All of this is in a past that I don't plan on repeating. The focus now is to enter another medical phase called recovery. My immune system is medically suppressed. I'm constantly reminded by medical personnel that germs can kill. As expected, I have chronic "Graft versus Host Disease" or "GvHD." That's the disease caused by a fight between my body and the foreign bone marrow and blood within me. As with so many possible side effects that surfaced, my symptoms were different and fortunately not as severe as others. I've been warned that people still die from GvHD but my symptoms have been tamed by more drugs. This new disease is not a daily issue for me.
Currently, I take about thirty pills each day, each prescribed by the doctors in Seattle and each with a long list of possible side effects. I'm experiencing some of those side effects every day but my work, sharing music with high school students takes my focus away from health issues and gives me a positive outlook to life through the eyes of young people. But as one great evil recedes, another comes forward. Now that cancer is not bombarding me each day with attempts to take me, another version of cancer has emerged. It's time to pay the ongoing and seemingly forever growing bills. In this case, I do ask, "Why me?"
Now that I have been told countless times by doctors as recently as yesterday to relax and let the recovery happen over time, I've been hit with new medical bills over and over again. I have been grateful to so many friends and family who have donated to cancer funds in my name to help with these bills but the stress of the constant financial strain makes it nearly impossible to "relax and recover." I've been hit with countless examples of insurance denials for every reason imaginable. They add tremendous stress to patients like me who are supposed to focus on physical recovery and wellness.
One of my required medications is considered a chemotherapy. It's extremely important to help kill the remaining cancer cells. The small drug company who sells this drug has put a price tag on a single bottle of twenty-one pills at $14,000. That's not a misprint. That's more than I have ever spent on a car. However, this company has a special program for lower income individuals to sell this bottle of pills for well under $100. My doctor signed me up for this program without asking and I'm glad she did. However, yesterday, I received a letter from the company saying they are auditing my finances. Their concern is that I may earn too much to qualify for their special program. Now, I'm forced to send a private drug company pay stubs and tax records to prove that I'm not one of them, just a high school teacher with thirty-three years experience and almost two Master Degrees who easily qualifies as a low income person in desperate need of their drug.
A quick Google search of this company reveals that their top executive was paid twenty-four million dollars last year. Their seventh ranked executive earns just three million. I don't know how he gets by. This is the company that wants my tax records to make sure I earn several hundred times less than they do. You would think that of all of those multimillion dollar executives one of them could have figured out the price they are charging for each pill. The answer is $666. Somehow, that seems fitting.
If not for the forced kindness of friends through donations on GoFundMe and other fundraisers at school, I would be paying the medical bills with credit cards. I plan to sell a fishing boat in Homer to help pay the bills and I just heard that more fundraisers are on the horizon. When the fundraisers started, I was terribly embarrassed but the wisdom of one of my high school students described it in a way that I can deal with. She asked what I thought of her starting another fundraising event. I told her how difficult it was for me to accept the kindness and especially to accept charity. She said "Everybody likes you and they really want to help." At that point I realized it's not really about me. It fills a need for students to do something for someone they know. I know that need. I have put on large fundraising events for music teachers in the past who had cancer. I felt compelled to help and I realize now that the tables have turned and others feel compelled to help me.
Writing these blog entries was very therapeutic while I was at the clinic. I haven't read any of my blogs from the past and I probably never will. Reading my previous entries would remind me of a pain that I would like to forget and an insight of my inner being that I have never previously revealed to anyone. I'm more comfortable trying to ignore pain, working through it and going on with my day.
At this point, I'm considering stopping the blog and moving on with life but I'm still getting interest (34 people checked it today before this entry.) I have also been asked to keep it going by a couple readers so I'll ask you. Should I keep it going until the cancer is completely gone? My concern is the interest may wane as time goes on. Please send me your thoughts. I'm happy to go either way on this. There will be at least one more blog entry and more if there is interest.
Blog Statistics as of March 9, 2016:
Total blog entries: 84
Total pages viewed: 16,508
Total comments received: 160 (also received more than double that number through standard email)
Top twenty blogs entries, viewed
978 views “Summary of my treatment” (first blog in July)
440 views “Two steps forward and one step backwards” - 7/14/15
285 views “Missing a Wedding” - 8/1/15
184 views “Recovery Time” - 7/29/15
169 views “Stem Cell Collection is Done!!” - 7/25/15
162 views “Banjo Time!!” - 7/19/15
147 views “Feelin’ Good” - 7/15/15
120 views “Longer Treatment Plan” - 8/4/15
119 views “Go Mustangs!” - 8/12/15
119 views “Back in the Saddle Again” -7/15/15
110 views “Misery” - 11/24/15
109 views “Time to Harvest!!” - 7/23/15 109
101 views “The Cold, Hard Truth” - 11/1/15
101 views “Neutropenia” - 7/21/15
98 views “North to Alaska!” - 9/19/15
90 views “Dark Times” - 8/26/15
90 views “Cancer Takes and Takes” - 10/9/15
90 views “Music versus Cancer” - 11/19/15
90 views “Door Decorations” - 12/20/15
90 views “State of the Mike Address” - 1/14/16
Wednesday, March 2, 2016
Returning to teaching
I suppose the blog can keep moving forward until things settle down. There have been a couple requests to keep it going. As the readership falls, I suspect I'll announce a last blog soon.
I went back to work yesterday for a half day (three classes). That left one Freshman band and a computer class with the substitute teacher. Students in the left-over band class were apparently upset that my return didn't include them. So today, I stretched my "half day" to four classes, seeing all of the bands. It was also a stretch for my stamina but I made it through and I can't describe how good it feels to get back.
There is a phenomena that is occurring right now with my band students at the high school. I've seen it before so it was completely predictable. When a teacher is gone for a long period, their value from the student perspective gets highly elevated. On the other hand, the substitute teacher, who has been fantastic is still labelled a "substitute" and will never measure up to the mystique of the missing, "wonderful" teacher. This is especially true for the 9th graders who don't even know me yet!
Within a couple days, they will discover that I work hard, I have passion to make them sound like a great band, but I'm really not saying anything to them that they haven't heard from their substitute teacher. The mystique will wear off soon and that's fine with me. My high school bands have been extremely fortunate to have a substitute who was in it for the long haul to make it work for the students. We couldn't have been more fortunate.
I went back to work yesterday for a half day (three classes). That left one Freshman band and a computer class with the substitute teacher. Students in the left-over band class were apparently upset that my return didn't include them. So today, I stretched my "half day" to four classes, seeing all of the bands. It was also a stretch for my stamina but I made it through and I can't describe how good it feels to get back.
There is a phenomena that is occurring right now with my band students at the high school. I've seen it before so it was completely predictable. When a teacher is gone for a long period, their value from the student perspective gets highly elevated. On the other hand, the substitute teacher, who has been fantastic is still labelled a "substitute" and will never measure up to the mystique of the missing, "wonderful" teacher. This is especially true for the 9th graders who don't even know me yet!
Within a couple days, they will discover that I work hard, I have passion to make them sound like a great band, but I'm really not saying anything to them that they haven't heard from their substitute teacher. The mystique will wear off soon and that's fine with me. My high school bands have been extremely fortunate to have a substitute who was in it for the long haul to make it work for the students. We couldn't have been more fortunate.
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