Yesterday we celebrated International Day at school. First we roamed about the tables of goodies, stuffing ourselves with delicacies from multiple countries. The delicacies were not all edible, however, yet just as filling. If someone from the Korean table puts food on your plate, they respect and honor you. You learn to bow in return. If you compliment a Chinese “jacket” you learn that there is a name for the covering hinting at jacket, but one that unveils a rich cultural tradition. There is no exact translation. The performances began. One woman, with poise, elegantly strummed traditional Chinese airs. I am always lured by the Chinese 
appreciation of aesthetics and this occasion was no exception. I have heard the style of music before, but this time my impression came not from the sound, but rather from the way the woman moved the silence. After every few notes, the woman resolved the chords by pulling her fingers together and away from the instrument as if she was conducting - or even drawing.
In the traditional musical sense, the sound was left unresolved, yet in the silence, the tune settled at the point of her fingertips. I thought about my command of silence. In the classroom, in conversation, in thought, there is certainly an element of fear in silence because it is an unknown, a vague irresolution. I would like to manipulate the ability of silence to powerfully suggest while still leaving space for the observer to create his or her own clarity. Soon after the first performance, we observed a colorful representation of everything from masked dancing to an Aussie telling the story of a walking expedition down under. Then the Americans sang “America the Beautiful” …followed by a little “Country roads take me home, to the place I belong…” Funny how we knew the words to the second song better. We were slightly embarrassed, but after all, Americans only sing the first and maybe the fourth verse. As to why we didn’t practice, my answer was… “well, it’s an informal culture, you know.” 
I must say though, while standing on stage watching the China flag wave atop the elementary school, I smiled at the two worlds coming together and was more proud than I have been in a long time to sing “from sea to shining sea”. It seemed more real from across a different sea. I’ve been sharing a lot of music with friends lately. One that I continue playing on repeat is Natasha Bedingfield’s “Wild Horses”. I find the spirit and invitation of her song present in the daily grind. There’s the planning, grading, and the same over-commitment issues I have always found. Yet there are also times to look up, step back, and to reflect back how I’ve been tired of talking, talking about school improvement and talking about diversity and talking about how to make America beautiful. I love running from one class 
to the next with a grammar book and a play in hand. I love turning bright red knowing I have just made a complete fool of myself by innocently asking a culturally inappropriate question. I love discussions that begin with the differences between eastern and western style education. And I am learning to love the silence where it all comes together – like the settling of music upon the woman’s fingertips at International Day. It has the feeling that we are going somewhere, truly making footprints. Running with grammar books, wild horses…it’s fun when they seem the same. But maybe I’m just crazy to like grammar. …and I thought to end there, but we just lost power in the building, a semi-monthly occurrence. Internet’s gone, so I guess I won’t be posting tonight. We will have the opportunity to play with candles, however.
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