Those of you who know me already know about the ukulele orchestra, TRUE (The Ridgeline Ukulele Extravaganza), that I started back in 2011, and which ended with me when I left my teaching job in 2023.
We were locally famous. We played every stage in Eugene, Oregon, including the Hult Center, Sam Bonds, and Ems Stadium. We opened for Jake Shimabukuro at the Arlene Schnitzer in Portland when he played with the Oregon Symphony. We did it again when Blind Pilot played with the Oregon Symphony. We recorded an album in local studio.
It’s the best thing I’ve professionally accomplished in my life, so far, and I miss it with all my heart. At the time of this photo, every student in the class was playing ukulele and singing together at the start of every day for 30-45 minutes. By the end of my time at Ridgeline 12 years later, I had my ukulele group leading an all-school sing-along twice a year, and we were still playing shows all over town.
I’ve been doing a lot of reflection about life and work and what’s next while I’ve been down here in Mexico. This picture came up in my Facebook feed today. I’m still in touch with so many of these now young adults. They are no longer 12 and 13. They are 24 and 25. Some of them have married. Some of them have children. One of them died of Leukemia just as her adult life was supposed to begin.
Another thing you know about me, if you know me, or know of me, or even if you look at this photo, probably: I am most at home, most comfortable, most myself, working with young people. Middle schoolers, in particular.
It’s impossible for most adults to understand, that the zitty, angsty, rebellious, emotional time of our children’s lives is the age when I’m most excited about working with our kids.
Our kids. Our future.
Fun story: in the summer of 2016, I watched the first Republican debate on television. I was absolutely mortified. And then I realized: I’m 45 years old. I’m old enough to run for President! (You only have to be 35 to run for President of the United States.)
Before the school year started, I had come up with an entire plan for how my middle school students were going to run my independent presidential campaign! We would create a website. The students would identify the key issues that voters were concerned about. Groups of students would deeply research each issue, from abortion to the death penalty, and bring their research back to the class. The students would decide what our collective stance was on each issue, and then the teams would develop a webpage to explain our stance on all of the major issues.
We needed 10,000 signatures to get on the ballot in Oregon. (Each state has a different petition process to get on the ballot.) We were going to learn what it takes to run for President of the United States of America!
When I took my plan to my principal, she was excited about the project, and arranged meetings with the school’s lawyers and with the Board. Unfortunately, it wasn’t legally possible for me to have the students run my Presidential campaign. As a public educator, I’m not allowed to endorse any political candidate for any office. Not even myself.
We could pretend to do it, though!
The students and I agreed that pretending to run for President would be lame. Instead, we started my deep dive into civics education, and how to empower young people to take a more active leadership role in the functionality of their community.
We did everything from attending union rallies as observers to writing Policy for our school that was adopted by the Board.
I’ve been out of school now for almost 18 months. I miss working with young people. I most certainly don’t want to go back to the restrictive environment of our education system, but I’m cooking up some ideas about ways I can empower and mobilize young people in the Eugene community to do the work that direly needs to be done.
Work our children want done. Work that will improve their future in this town. That will improve life for all of us.
They care deeply about our community. I don’t have to be a teacher to break down the walls between our children and the adults who are holding them back.
Please hit me up if you want to help out.
Hasta luego.