April 8, 2019

The discovery last weekend brought tears to my eyes. Bruce Springsteen, Luther Vandross, Cat Stevens, Queen, Pink Floyd, Marvin Gaye, The Kinks, The Rolling Stones, CSN, Jackson Brown, Genesis, The Cars, REM, Earth, Wind and Fire, to name a few. And then the "mixtapes". With every plastic drawer opened, the memories flooded in: car trips, parties, romantic dinners, friends. And then, buried deep in the back, the discovery of the 24" by 48" speaker, the envy of all, that blasted music out the windows and onto the fields.

As some of you may know, Jon and I are moving to Fairfield this summer. Perhaps because of this move, the first in 20 years, contemplating change has become a part of each and every day as we decide what stays and what gets donated or tossed. But how does one possibly toss what was so intimately entwined in our lives for so many years?

This is precisely the thought that I had when I came across these tapes; and perhaps the thought that we've all been having as we consider changes, whether big or small, to our pedagogy. In the same way that I might keep some old assignments or graded papers, I am going to keep these tapes, simply because I can not bear to part with them - they were tied to my identity - even though I know that I will never listen to them again.

Change is good - transition is hard.

I can't speak for any other decade, but for those of you who grew up in the 80s, I am sure you have plenty of mixed tapes lying around; perhaps you, like my husband, can't part with the oversize speakers, even though we know perfectly well that they are obsolete. We are capable of getting so much more out of the innovative little Bose speaker in the kitchen. Perhaps that is where I am with my teaching. My music wasn't wrong - my teaching wasn't wrong. But there are more innovative, effective, ways to deliver that music. I can't rationalize playing my mixtapes given the advances over the past twenty years.

Although I am challenged by the emotional connection that I have to my cassettes, (to the 12 hour road trips measured by the number of tapes played), I know that I can't go back. This realization is similar to what we now know about the brain, the neuroscience of learning, about education innovation, and about what is awaiting our students when they graduate. After 20 years in a wonderful home, I am embracing not only the change, but the transition. I am not ready to give up the tapes (but the speakers are for sale!) and the memories; however, I am ready to embrace the unknown, the next step, understanding that it is in my family's, and my students', best interest.

-Sara on behalf of the Kravis Center