by Steven A. Melnick — When I taught 4th grade, I used to play the piano in my classroom every day–either in the morning as the students came into the room or, most often, in the late afternoon as they were getting ready to go home. Sometimes we’d sing, sometimes not. At times I’d play something with a good beat that kept them stepping as they gathered their things and got ready for the bus trip home. Other times just something soft to quiet their day. I’d talk with them as they came and went. I loved to play and never gave much thought to doing it. It just seemed like the kids enjoyed it, I enjoyed it, what could be better? As it turns out, being an unexpected role model made it all the sweeter.
At the end of one day toward the end of the school year, George [not his real name] asked if I would allow him to take my place that afternoon and play for the class while they were getting ready to go home. I was somewhat surprised to learn he had been taking piano lessons but readily agreed. He did a very nice job and had a grin on his face that I suspect he’s still wearing. I was proud of him for working up the nerve to play in front of his peers and for his accomplishment of learning to play fairly well for a fourth-grader. As it turns out, though, that’s only half the story.
During the last week of classes for the school year, George’s mother came to see me in tears. Naturally, my first thought was, “Oh, geez…what did I do this time?” She walked up to me, took my hand, and with tears in her eyes said, “I just want to thank you from the bottom of my heart.” She went on to tell me that she had been trying to get George to take piano lessons since he was in the third grade. He wanted no part of it because he had the idea that only “wimps” play the piano. She told me that George truly enjoyed being in my classroom that year and that he really admired me. As he saw me play the piano each day and the fun we had doing so, he began to see playing the piano doesn’t make you a wimp. In fact, he began to think it was pretty cool for a guy to play. As it turns out, partway into the school year, and quite out of the blue, George went to his mother and asked if he could start taking piano lessons. She was flabbergasted but readily agreed. Unknown to me, he took private lessons all year and continued to practice and improve until he felt comfortable enough to offer to play for the class, “…just like Mr. Melnick.”
I’ve never forgotten George and I try to remember just how easy it is to be a role model…and never know it. Think about the things you do in your daily lives, remember the little ones are watching, and make them proud. Be a role model.
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