Echoes from another place sound bell-toll clear and chime
The melodies of yesteryear, a harmony of time:
An art I lived, a song I loved, the way I used to be,
When passion swelled and music grew instinctively from me.
I felt it then like life’s breath; it was heart-beat, body, soul:
 The timbre of this voice defined my name and made me whole.
They knew me then by just that sound, my practice and my art,
And understood the way I felt through music from my heart.
It wasn’t work or pass-time then, or study or a school,
I ached to paint my passions out in music vivid, full,
And bear my spirit, naked, for someone perhaps to hear
and take and own and understand a smile, a kiss, a tear.
Character seems to dictate to mankind what he should be,
What work will form the future and give life solidity,
And even then I knew I couldn’t live to fill the stage,
Subject myself to judgements on my size, my face or age,
And hope for an audition, for a role to fill a while
To pay the bills, provide a home and help me raise my child.
Instead, I hoped to share with some my vision, passion, pride,
And teach the music of my soul and to their hearts confide
My mission and my first love – let my song in them take root,
And change and grow across the years as each names his pursuit;
One opera, one rock and roll, composers, stars, a few
Will choose to teach as I have and one day be telling you
Of heart throbs deep and memories of practice long and late
And passion which sustained them and exposed to them a fate
Not always championed by its own – yes, teachers often try
To give students a different goal. “The pay is bad,” they lie.
Untruth, I say, because I think the pay’s more than a check.
I hear the souls of youth each day. Compare that to the speck
Of vision that some other person gets at work, I fear
Earning in dull tedious tasks her six digits per year.
I can’t imagine waking up each day to face a job
Which doesn’t show me souls and life, but satisfies a mob
Of unhappy consumers, fills a quota, meets deadline…
My purpose is to find a heart, inspire it and refine
An art and skill to students who don’t see their power now,
But one day may, and then they’ll sing because I showed them how
To fill a room with passion, show their hearts naked and brave.
This power of expression I give them is what I crave,
I have it, want it, feel it deep and know it inside out,
Ache for it still, this power even now I dream about.
And maybe it is this that makes my teaching true and good –
The fact that I learn with them. I think every teacher should!
We can’t sit back and reason that our education’s done,
That somehow it makes us wiser than our students, for we’ve won
Some precious piece of paper, saying ‘She has a degree!’
The deepest truths I know have come resoundingly to me
From children who like open notebooks wait for something new
To make a light go on inside them, give them a new view
Of people, nations, things the world can teach them of themselves.
They know that school is more than multiplying up through twelves,
That it’s a search for understanding minds and hearts and life.
So I step in and give a voice to soul-deep curious strife
Which ties them up in knots this young. They want so much to see
Each reason, explanations they expect to come from me.
Sometimes I give them what they seek, experience speaks clear,
But more often I help them ask so that  people can hear
Not just the question but also the driving heart behind it,
The passion for and answer which ensures that they will find it.
I give them passion, power to speak their souls, because I know
That aching need to show my heart, from pure emotion grow
Until that understanding of myself is deep and real.
The more I sing and teach, the closer to it I will feel.
That’s why I teach, and why I sing, and why the memories chime
Of music, passions, understanding, once upon a time.