Nervous

I don't know why I insisted on getting up early this morning. I should have rolled out of bed at 9:30, showered, and left at 11:00 after a quick check of email and Facebook. Instead, I got up at 7:30 and have had all this extra time to make myself nervous over today's mock lesson.

Teaching 30-odd 8th graders? Piece of cake.

Teaching 5-10 adult teachers? Run screaming for the hills.

It doesn't help that I have to "teach" them how to make a sound on a trumpet, pretending that they are 4th or 5th grade students in their second week of trumpet instruction. The trumpet was the one instrument in college that I could not play to save my life--well, except for bassoon and oboe, but no one could play those without getting light-headed.

Still, Dad pointed out something yesterday that made me feel better--the panel doesn't really care if I can play the trumpet or not--they want to see how I teach. And I had an epiphany this morning: the panel isn't there to laugh at me, or sitting there hoping I fail miserably. They want to see me teach, and as it's summer and there are no kids around to work with, we have to improvise.  I just have to remember that they don't want to see me fail--they want to see me be awesome. They want a lot of great candidates to choose from.

So I just have to walk in there and remember that while my own skills at the trumpet are woefully lacking, I am perfectly able to explain breathing, posture and lip buzzing to children (or, in this case, adults pretending to be 5th graders) and get somewhere in helping them take what I've taught them and apply it to making some sort of sound on a trumpet. No one is expecting Wynton Marsalis to walk in the door; they're expecting a teacher.

And folks, it's time for me to remember that I am a teacher.

Still, there will be a lucky rubber ducky in my purse.