Uncharted Territory

I feel a little bit like Meriwether Lewis ... or maybe William Clark.  I don't know, one of those guys.  Probably Lewis, because his first name is cooler. 

Anyway ... imagine standing at the Mississippi River staring west.  Ahead of you is a vast expanse of land.  How vast?  You don't know, because no one has bothered to chart it yet (at least not anyone you know, and certainly not you yourself).  You can assume the types of terrain you'll encounter: trees, rivers, streams, plains, grass, hills.  You can assume the types of wildlife you'll see: deer, squirrels, beavers, the usual.  But what's really over there?  You don't know.

And that scares you.

As I look ahead to July and teaching some classes at the Handbell Musicians of America National Seminar, I'm having similar feelings.  I can look at those classes, and I know the type of terrain I'll find: tables, chairs, walls, a door, probably a podium or some type of thing at the front of the room.  I know the wildlife I'll see: people old, young, and in between.  I even know exactly what material I'll be teaching: composing and publishing.

And yet, there are still so many unknowns!  So much Uncharted Territory!

Yes, I'm a teacher, but my students are young, and if they misbehave, I send them to the principal.  If they're bored, well, that's just tough, because they have to learn this stuff anyway whether they like it or not.  With half of the students, I've already won the battle just because I'm a Big Person who cares about them, and, in a profession dominated by women (elementary school teaching), I'm one of the few Guys in the building.

Not so with this class.  Yes, I know how to teach, but I have to make sure I make everything interesting and engaging.  Instead of drawing from a State Approved Curriculum, I'm drawing from the curriculum of my life as I've lived it the past decade or more.  All of my "students" will be adults, so the fact that I'm a Big Person and a Guy won't win me any points.  Worst of all, if they're bored or don't like the topic, they'll not only leave, but they'll evaluate the class later on and will let me know in No Uncertain Terms.

Am I destined for failure?  No.  Am I destined for absolute success? Not by a long shot.  No, I need to prepare, and I'll do it the same way I can only imagine my soul brother Meriwether did when preparing for his long hike to the Pacific:

Start early -- The earliest I will teach this class is July 18.  That's 23 weeks from today, very nearly half a year.  Now, I could wait until summer hits and my life has slowed down, then try to put it all together ... or, I could start right now, working on presentations, adding sub-topics, creating musical and other examples.  If I start work on February 8 and discover that preparing this class is going to take a lot more time than I'd thought, guess what?  I've got the time!  If I wait until June 1 (or, heaven forbid, July 1) and find out the same thing, I've got to cram, hurry up, and do a slap-dash job.

Treat this like an adventure -- Part of how Meriwether Lewis managed to help lead a team across to the Pacific was by having a sense of adventure.  Yes, going into uncharted territory is scary, but it's also exciting -- there's so much to see and do and touch and taste and try and experience!  Creating something like this class is similar.  I've got a rudimentary outline, and I can stick to it ... or, as I get creating the class (for this is really, after all, just another creative project!), I can take those detours to find out where they lead.  Who knows? Some of my best topics may come from those detours I followed.

Enlist support -- Meriwether and his less-interestingly-named partner William didn't head off alone.  They had a support team nearly 30 strong (if the reports on Wikipedia are accurate) that went with them.  Now, I can do this whole thing all on my own ... or I can realize my limitations and enlist help.  For starters, I know I'm going to be relying on my wife to help me make the actual presentation to use during the class.  Right now, she's teaching an online college class for which the text is a book about making PowerPoint presentations more interesting and better.  Not only that, but she knows other, better presentation tools that she can help me with. 

Also, I have other friends who just happen to be not just clinicians, but veteran clinicians, who know what they're doing and how to teach at an event like this.  Relying on their wisdom is a wise thing.  Realize that when Lewis and Clark set off into Uncharted Territory, there were a great number of people living there already -- the West wasn't Uncharted, it was just Uncharted to them. 

Embrace spontaneity -- This goes hand-in-hand with the sense of adventure (and no, I can't find a Lewis and Clark parallel here).  I can be the sort of teacher who starts at the beginning of his presentation and charges ahead straight to the end with blinders on the whole way ... or I can be the sort that wants to turn the presentation into a collaborative event, where I'm not the only teacher, but rather the facilitator who helps all the other knowledgeable souls in the room share their ideas, as well.  To be That Sort of teacher, I need to be flexible enough to embrace those opportunities when they arise.  Fortunately, my years as an elementary teacher have amply prepared me for that.


Again, the big thing to remember is that while this is Uncharted Territory for me, it's not Uncharted Territory for everyone.  Others have been here before, done this before, blazed the trail.  I've observed many others lead this sort of class and share their knowledge.  I've taught people before, and I've talked and written about my subject matter at length.  All I need to do now is make my preparations and set off on my journey. If you'll be in Cincinnati this July, I hope to see you there! 

I'll be the guy in the bad hat carrying a musket.