As I look back on my career in education, the years can be divided into two distinct eras: B.P. (Before Puppets) and A. P. (After Puppets).
In the Before Puppets era of my teacher life, I did all the jobs myself. That was hard work. I cajoled and scolded reluctant kids into participating in the music room. I dreamed up all sorts of incentives to motivate good behavior. Looking back, I see that much of my effort was reactive in nature. That worked out okay until the year I met the group of students that devoured me. Every. Single. Day. There was no incentive attractive enough. No reaction effective enough.
I was licked. I sat on the side of the bathtub and cried every Sunday night thinking of the week ahead. Something had to change.
The following summer, I attended John Feierabend’s First Steps in Music training at Southern Methodist University. His approach transformed my classroom. I found a $5 owl puppet from IKEA and borrowed a singing snake puppet in a top hat from my kids’ IKEA circus set. I named the owl Ophelia, and her hooting sounds became our daily classroom routine for vocal exploration. The snake already had a name—Jeremy. He led echo songs in the classroom and introduced the concept of arioso (improvisation using the singing voice). You see, Jeremy was once a world-famous Carnival performer. He is the world’s only singing snake. He doesn’t use a speaking voice, and he can only understand you if you use a singing voice, too.
My intention was just to use these puppets as tropes to deliver instruction. What I discovered is that if I fully committed to creating characters and bringing them to life, the puppets became far more than a gimmick. They became the soul of my classroom, a source of constant joy and improvisational comedy between me, my students, and even my interns. In fact, I kept a bag of twenty Ophelia puppets under my desk, and each intern chose theirs on the first day of their rotation with me. Their assignment for that night was to hang out with Ophelia and bring her to life. I discovered that each time new interns approached the class with Ophelia on their hand and began speaking to her, the children accepted them as her handler and bestowed the mantle of authority on them. An effortless transfer of power. Truly miraculous. In future posts, I will give you more examples of how puppets do all the heavy lifting in my kindergarten and first grade classes. I receive multiple drawings of Ophelia and Jeremy each year. But for today, I want to share a beautiful memory that demonstrates the power of the magic puppets can create in the classroom.
Years ago, a new kindergartner transferred to my school. I’ll call him Friend. He was sad and withdrawn. He was far from the home and school he knew. He missed everything about his old life. Friend arrived during program season, and he did his best to please me. He obediently sang all the songs and performed all the motions. But I never saw a spark in his eyes. New town. New custodial parent. New classroom. New everything.
Everything except this:
Friend had a music teacher that he loved at his old school. Amazingly, that teacher was my beloved former intern, Joshua Wayne. This fine young music teacher excelled in all ways, but especially in bringing puppets to life and captivating students with magical storytelling.
I will never forget the day Friend and Ophelia were reunited. She peeked out of my desk drawer, like always. Friend gasped. For the first time, he raised his head and looked into my eyes.
She whispered in my ear.
“What’s that, Ophelia?” I asked. “You see someone you recognize? Who could it be?”
Friend beamed. His hand shot into the air. “Me! It’s me! I KNOW HER!”
“You’re right, Ophelia! That IS your old friend. She was just telling me how much she missed you, Friend. We are so glad you’re here.”
That’s one heck of a return on a five dollar puppet, y’all.
Mrs. Parker's Happy Classroom 