First Day of School

I was driving to a school in Port Perry, Ontario, and thinking about teacher's college.

Last night, Dave and I had one of those challenging conversations that other couples probably also have when at least one of them is an artist. The conversations have to do with the money one wishes one had...the money that would allow us to make house repairs without thinking about them...the money that would allow us to replace the 1990 Honda I was driving to Port Perry, and so on.

Most times, our lifestyle seems modest but comfortable. We place a high value on simplicity and small spaces, recycled clothing and homemade fun. I really do love our car, even though I'm starting to feel embarrassed by the rust. We live in a wonderful, eclectic neighborhood steps from a playground, and probably wouldn't move even if we could afford a larger home.

Still, these conversations do come up from time to time.

When they do, I wonder what path I could jump to, as gracefully as possible, so as to find a reasonably secure, well-paying job with dental benefits and maybe even a pension? I wonder if having such a job would prevent future conversations...and set my children up for a more financially secure future.

The idea of becoming a teacher had come up before. My mother (an accomplished painter and potter) was a public school teacher for 25 years. I wondered, as I drove, if my undergraduate degree would be enough to get in to teacher's college...whether I'd have to take upgrade courses.

And I noticed for the first time, in the fog that so often follows difficult late-night conversations, that here I was again, pursuing my music career, yes, but also driving to a another school.

I've been doing a lot of songwriting workshops lately. It turns out I'm good at them. I feel comfortable in classrooms and I love working with kids.

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On the other hand, my fantasy faded a bit as I spent time in the actual classroom, reining in a group of grade seven boys who had brought their electric guitars and amps to class ("Can you play 'Stairway to Heaven', Miss?").

Keeping them on track took at least as much energy as busking does. (And yeah, I did play 'Stairway to Heaven').

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I was practically desperate to get to the subway when I left the school, even though the workshop had gone well.

Because I had to pick up my daughter at 3:45, I knew I'd only have an hour at Pape Station, if I hurried. So there I was, barrelling down the 401, hoping I wouldn't get a speeding ticket in an effort to be a subway musician.

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I made it to Pape Station by 2:15, giving me exactly one hour to sing. I started setting up my amp, when I heard a familiar voice.

"Lynn!", she said, "This is amazing. I never take the subway, but I decided to today, and here you are!"

It was a friend from university, also an artist, who has spent the last twenty years combining theatre work, tutoring and parenthood. Always enthusiastic and supportive about my music, she asked about my recent show and upcoming concerts. I asked about her family and her own career.

"I just got accepted into teacher's college," she said.

She told me how she'd been worried about "selling out" and "giving up"...how she thought she might not get in because she only has an undergraduate degree (the same one as me, with the same average). She told me she's taking it a step at a time.

I said, we'll have to talk.

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I didn't play First Day of School today.

Crying in the subway isn't pretty.

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