My mother used to sing me this song "There is a hole in the bucket dear Liza dear Liza...So fix it dear Henry dear Henry."
"With what should I fix it, dear Liza, dear Liza,
With what should I fix it, dear Liza, with what?
With what should I fix it, dear Liza, with what?
With straw, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
With straw, dear Henry, dear Henry, with straw."
With straw, dear Henry, dear Henry, with straw."
Long story short, poor Henry could not fix the hole with anything and Liza was not happy. But she still tried everything she possibly could to mend that hole. But to me, this song contains some important words of wisdom and some whimsy, too. Because you have to think, that hole probably would not have been there in the first place if Dear Liza and Dear Henry had not used that bucket to its fullest potential. That hole is whimsy. That hole said, "I've been worn and torn and used well but there is magic inside that bucket. And no whimsy can be lost despite that hole."
Well despite a bit of a rough and runnin' week in the classroom, I tend to teach with hands and my arms. I once had a teacher tell me, "She has never seen a teacher lean into her students." I think I get that from the years of playing music. You lean into the music. And for me, every day is stepping into a band. Every student plays a new instrument everyday and it's your job to patch those holes in the bucket, or just let the whimsy run through them.
I was teaching in the morning today, and I was moving my hands and my arms were flying all over the place and my body was rocking, and I was discussing engineering and once my toes start tapping, my arms tap and my fingers fly and my knees prance and before you know it, I look like a ball of love trying to excite and motivate and pass on passion to my students. And somewhere along the way, I got a hole in my sleeve Dear Liza Dear Liza.
My student said, "Mrs. Amoscato you have a hole." I started frantically looking all over the place figuring out where the hole was. Then, I began thinking thank goodness I have shorts on underneath my dress. Regardless, they shouted, "No the sleeve." And sure enough I had a gaping hole the size of Texas dropping down. I found it, shrugged, and I began to think of that bucket song. And before I knew it, I had forgotten about the hole, and I continued to teach with my arms flying and my knees wobbling and my wrists shaking.
I think if you make it through the day without holes, you aren't spreading love. There's a hole in the sleeve Dear Henry Dear Henry, there's a hole in the sleeve so carry love home.
this journal is a chapter in...
365 Days of Whimsical
