My mind is tatted with great memories from going to punk, ska, and hardcore shows with my crew growing up. Many of the bands we shared the dance floor with, and the venues that orphaned us for a night, operated on a DIY ethos. Admission was cheap, which was a bonus for a young teenage punk to be able to mosh and slam dance out their frustrations every Friday and Saturday night! Some of my fondest memories, the ones that had the strongest impressions on me, weren't from any bands’ performance (although I do have thousands of those). Instead, I longed for the time before, in between, and after the sets that sent us into a sweating frenzy.
If doors to a show opened at 7:00 pm, we were outside the venue by 5:45 pm. It wasn’t to get a good seat, there were no seats. It wasn’t to enjoy the beautiful weather. Living in Chicago we’d be standing outside in baggy shorts and a hoodie, being pelted with snow, rain, sub-zero & blistering temperatures, sometimes all in the same week! The reason for our early arrival was to get noticed, make connections, and build relationships with the musicians that created the sounds that we connected with and transported us to Shangri-La.
Getting to shows early, hitting up merch booths after a band’s set, and hanging outside the venue blanketed in sweat after everything was said and done, we were guaranteed to meet musicians, talk about life, and get to know each other on a more personal level. Many friendships were made and the next time a band played a set or rolled into town it made their performance that much more personal for us all. With bands taking the time to sit and talk with the fans, they proved to us they truly cared about what they were doing, and their message was pure and honest. Bands needed us, the fans, and gained inspiration from us. They truly cared about who we were as people. This connection had us sprinting into the venue the next time they destroyed the stage.
Educators are no different to their students. Our kids want to know that we truly care about them as people, as individuals. They are not just a number or a seat in our classrooms. Our main goal is not for them to succeed on a one-day state assessment. As educators we want our students to succeed in life, believe in themselves and their strengths and abilities, be confident problem solvers, collaborate, exhibit empathy and kindness, and set goals to change the world! Students will never accomplish these if we don’t show and prove we truly care for and believe in them.
Look at the impact that a 5 to 10-minute conversation with a band member before a show has had on so many young punks, including myself! I still appreciate and value the time anyone gives me with a conversation, phone call, or Vox. Our students look up to us, they admire us, and are watching our every move. What messages do students receive when one educator sits and eats lunch with them once a week while another never steps foot into the cafeteria. What’s the difference in messages sent from the educator that stands outside of their classroom door every morning or between each period, greeting students with a, “Hello, how’s it going today? How was your game last night?”, a fist bump, or hug vs. the educator that is sitting at their computer checking emails, or even worse, talking with other colleagues, backs turned to the students? What’s a student going to think when they see staff from their school on a Friday or Saturday, cheering for them from the stands?
If we want our students to know that we are here for them, that we value them as individuals, we must make the time for them. A few minutes in the hallway, cafeteria, playground, or parking lot will last a lifetime. It’s up to us, the performers, to show our fans the appreciation, gratitude, and belief we have in them. These moments are what will gain our students attention when it comes to instruction. These moments are what will have our students sprinting back into our schools and classrooms each day. Without our students support we will never have a chance at changing this world for the better.