The Leprechaun and the Lights

I might have had a leprechaun in my music room on St. Patrick's Day.

 

The kindergartners swore they saw one hiding behind my desk, running out the door, and climbing up the instrument shelves.

They would gasp, point, and exclaim, "I just saw a leprechaun!"

 

The day after St. Patrick's Day, I found a bunch of green and gold glitter on top of one of my drums. 

 

I'm not joking. I don't know how it got there. A student? The custodian tracking it in from another classroom? The amount of it and location was too subtle to be a teacher playing a prank.

It was a fun anecdote to tell my students. I learned that 4th graders still take leprechauns pretty seriously. The 5th graders were a little more skeptical but kind of freaked out. The 6th graders just stared blankly at me or rolled their eyes.

 

 

Right after I told the 1st graders the glitter story, the lights in my room flickered a few times and went out. They got very quiet. A few students whimpered. 

"Uh oh," I thought, "I traumatized them."

 

A few weeks earlier, the lights at my school had been completely rewired. I was pretty sure it wasn't a bulb problem but somehow related to the new light system. 

 

I tried to turn on the lights a few more times. One light worked while the others flickered like a disco ball. I guess that's appropriate for the music room . . .

 

The custodian had to check all the bulbs, which involved climbing a ladder and taking panels off my ceiling around the entire room. I took the 1st graders outside instead of teaching my rhythm lesson and sang a few Irish folk songs on guitar. They seemed less traumatized by the time class was over.

 

I taught in the dark that day and the next day, waiting for the electricians to show up. A 5th grade teacher gave me a desk lamp so I could see enough to do my paperwork.

 

The light guys showed up after the kids left for spring break. They climbed up in my ceiling, and I heard them say things like, “This is a mystery."  "What’s our next resort?" and (to me) "I hope I’m not making you dizzy.”

 

Was there really a leprechaun? Or maybe the music room ghost was making a comeback. I hadn't heard from it in a while.

 

After about an hour and a half and on a whim, one of the electricians jiggled a couple of wires in the single working light, and all of a sudden the lights came back on. 

 

“Whoa! Those are my lights!” I said.

“That’s a good sign,” he said, sounding a little relieved. 

He let go of the wires, and the lights went out again.

It turned out the light that worked was shorting out all the others. Once they had diagnosed the problem, they were able to fix it pretty quickly. 

 

I guess it wasn't a ghost or a leprechaun.

 

But what about all the glitter?

 

 

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5-Day Weeks Are Back, Baby!

Last week was rewarding but exhausting. 

 

Or I assume it was exhausting. I went to bed at 8:00 every night, barely lucid by the time I got home from work, so my memory is a bit vague.

 

In my school district, we are back five days a week with major distancing, masking, and sanitizing restrictions. 

 

And last week, I discovered I was ready!

 

Don't get me wrong. I am still concerned about keeping my students safe and not bringing anything home to my unvaccinated husband. (I am fully vaccinated albeit still cautious.) 

 

However, I thoroughly enjoyed seeing those kiddos in their full-size classes again.

 

In the days leading up to our return, I was nervous. I have directed music programs in front of hundreds of parents and community members, performed for one-thousand-seat audiences at the Morrison Center, hundreds at the Civic Center, and nothing has given me nearly as much anxiety as trying to figure out how this unknown entity of going back full-time was going to work.

 

All of the extra sanitizing of instruments and the mental fatigue from thinking through seating arrangements and who needs what materials every class period and how to clean those materials and how to place students in their cohorts in my already limited space of a music room was exhausting. 

But my principal said, "Do the best you can, and then let it go." 

She was right (and wise). I took a few deep breaths and enjoyed my time with the kids who, by the way, were just as excited to get back as I was. 

In fact, the upper grade students, who in non-COVID times are too cool for school, were the ones who provided the best material this past week.

 

"Can I say something off-topic?" one of my fifth grade girls asked at the beginning of class. (I was getting ready to explain syncopation, which seemed super important at the time.) "You have a good sense of style. Every time I come in here, you are wearing the cutest clothes." 

"You can go off-topic any time you want," I told her. 

Last year, a junior high student told me I dressed like a librarian. I took that as a compliment too.

The first graders must have agreed. 

 

"You look beautiful today," they all said as they entered the room. 

Man, elementary school is the best!

 

A few classes later, I was showing a recording of myself singing the school song. 

 

SIDE NOTE: We're supposed to limit the amount of live singing we do right now because . . . science. This is why I was showing a pre-recorded version of my singing. I realize a lot of districts aren't enforcing this right now judging from the amount of videos I was sent around Christmas time of young kids, standing in close proximity, singing at the top of their lungs [insert facepalm and eye roll here]. 

 

Anyway, after watching the video, one of my sixth graders asked, "Were you younger then?"

 

The recording was from a few weeks ago. Apparently, I've aged quickly this year.

 

 

Last week, the weather was gorgeous. To give my neighboring classrooms a noise break, I took the fifth and sixth graders outside for a drumming lesson.

 

As I was walking one of my classes around the corner, an excited fourth grader followed me on his way to recess.

 

"Can I do this when I am in fifth grade?" he asked.

"You can probably do this while you are in fourth grade in a couple of weeks," I replied.

The first class was a bit rocky, mostly because I hadn't worked out the kinks, but it ended up being a big hit the rest of the week.

"We sound better outside," a sixth grade boy remarked on Friday.

 

This week, we are heading into St. Patrick's Day, and that means lots of fun Irish music and movement. 

 

It won't be the same since many of our Irish circle and folk dances require holding hands, but I think I still have some fun activities planned. 

 

In years past, I have taught the lower grades a party dance called "Thread the Needle," but I couldn't figure out how to do a socially distanced, non-touching version of it.

 

The sixth graders asked if they could do "Thread the Needle" this year. (Again, I don't teach this dance to sixth graders because they are usually too cool. But I'm noticing there is a sense of nostalgia right now.) 

 

When I told them we probably wouldn't be able to do that one, they asked, "Can't we wear gloves?"

 

  

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The Second Dose

This morning, I woke up and realized I am Officially. Fully. Vaccinated. It has been two weeks since my second dose. And it's just in time for my students to come back to school Mondays through Fridays, starting next week.

 

You might remember my first shot was easy peasy. This time around, not so much.

 

It was to be expected. Prior to my second shot, I took an informal poll. Most of my forty-something friends were having reactions that lasted a few days.

My twenty and thirty-something friends said, "Oh, you’ll be fine after a day!"

 

(Do they realize I’m in my forties? And that I don't bounce back quite as quickly as I used to?)

Actually, as part of my extensive scientific research, which mostly consisted of reading website lists of the strangest allergic reactions imaginable, I did discover that younger adults tended to experience more severe side effects than the elderly, probably due to the younger population's more "vigorous" immune systems.

 

After my second shot, I concluded that—spoiler alert—a) I have a vigorous immune system and b) I must be considered part of the "younger" crowd.

 

It's a bizarre thing to be able to plan your sickness. Judging from what my middle-aged friends had told me, I had a pretty good guess as to how long I would be incapacitated. 

 

The day before my vaccination appointment, I found out that my brother and nephews were going to be in Boise that weekend and wanted to eat lunch with us at our neighborhood park. I told my husband, Dan, that if I couldn't make it, he had to go in my place. 

"But I might have to take care of you," Dan said.

"I think I can take care of myself for an hour or so." 

 

I reminded him that I did take care of myself in college when I got a bad strain of the flu. I was down for seven days with a 103-degree temperature, and I was living in a dorm room all by myself. I think I slept for the entire week, and the only person who checked on me was the doctor who had treated me at the student health clinic. I probably could have died.

"It doesn't sound like you were very good at taking care of yourself," Dan said.

 

The Night Before

 

My biggest concern was that I would not enjoy my food for a few days.

 

That night for my "last meal," I ate pizza and drank Huckleberry Cider. The next morning, Dan asked if I wanted waffles, and I ate lunch as soon as I came home from the appointment while food still sounded good.

 

The Day Of

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I received my shot Saturday morning and started feeling effects within two hours. I had a terrible ache at the injection site, and I could barely lift my arm. The fatigue set in right away as well. However, I felt well enough to chop vegetables for the following week's meals, and I was able to finish my chores before the weekend was over.

That night, the chills and fever hit. 

 

I have never been so relieved to have a fever since it meant my immune system was working, and I rambled on about it to Dan all night. I had a hard time sleeping (and, consequently, so did Dan), but I was certainly enthusiastic and joyful in my feverish state.

A lot of my friends checked in on me the next couple of days. I must have more friends now than I did in college when I had the flu. Of course, smartphones and texting didn't exist. It was much more difficult to contact people back then.

 

Day One

 

Sunday, I stayed in bed all day with a pretty substantial fever.

 

I didn't hang out with my nephews and brother, a clear indication as to how sick I felt. I never say no to hanging out with my nephews. I scrawled a (possibly coherent) note and made Dan give it to them when he met them at the park. 

 

The morning after my first dose, I ran four miles. This time around, I could barely lift myself out of bed to go to bathroom.

 

I had read that the trick was to drink lots of water and Gatorade. I was soooo thirsty, so I did just that. I still felt crappy. No amount of water and Gatorade could counteract my young and vigorous immune system.

 

 

Day Two

Over night, I felt mildly nauseous.

I took the day off of work. I graduated from the bed to the couch, but I was still running a fever and didn't get up much. 

 

I could lift my arm enough to take a quick shower and wash off some of the sweat. (After these night sweats, I'm not looking forward to menopause, people!) 

 

"You look much more person-y today," Dan observed. 

That evening, I flipped through my food magazines and gazed longingly at the pictures, dreaming of the time when I could enjoy my food again.

 

Day Three

 

On Tuesday, I didn't feel perfect. The fever had broken, but it left behind a bad headache and enough arm pain that I didn't want to carry my guitar to school.

 

I felt good enough to go back at work though.

 

One of my teacher friends asked how I was feeling after my second shot to which I responded, "Well, I didn't do my hair!"

 

Another weird thing: Even though I wasn't running a fever anymore, I still sweated off and on throughout the day. Again, I am not looking forward to menopause . . .

Day Four

I was driving to work Wednesday morning, and it was like something in my body switched off. All of a sudden, I felt perfect.

 

One of my teacher friends had a similar experience. 

 

"I'm not even questioning the witchcraft behind how all that works," he said.

 

That weekend, exactly a week after my COVID shot, I washed all of the clothes I had sweated in. I finally went jogging again. Everything was back to normal . . . well . . . as normal as I ever was.

 

 

I am not sorry I got vaccinated. I am grateful. A few wonky side effects from a vaccine is totally #WorthIt.

 

Check out Part One of my COVID vaccine experience: The First Dose 

For the latest blog updates, visit and "like" Rebecca Turner-Duggan.