Gretchen Smith of Austin, Texas sent us this story about adapting in her music class to meet the unique needs of her students.

One of the most amazing aspects of the music teacher's job is the privilege of teaching the same kids through every year of their elementary career. Because there are 750 of them, I don't get to know them as closely as if I were in the same room with 22 of them all day, but I do get to see how they change over time. I get to watch their bodies, personalities and minds grow.

I recently had the privilege of seeing a musical performance starring 120 of my own children—at least I feel like they're mine. We started school the same day. They were in kindergarten, and I was beginning my first year of teaching music at Copperfield Elementary in Pflugerville, Texas. That day had gone fairly well. Fourth and third grades had passed without incident. I had been alone in the classroom for three hours and no one had been harmed or had overtly questioned my authority. I think someone had learned, well, something in that time.

Then Mrs. Brown's kindergartners walked in, saying, "¡Hola, maestra!", and I learned I was teaching in a bilingual school where my semi-fluency in German and American Sign Language was going to do me absolutely no good. The older classes had learned enough English that they could answer my questions and follow directions, but these sweet, wide-eyed five-years-olds and I were about to have a crash course in international relations. I tried to remember every random Spanish phrase I had ever picked up in my twenty-three years as a Texan while I looked at my lesson plan and realized that all my careful rehearsing for this moment was for nothing.

Much of that first year was spent desperately hunting down Spanish-English music materials that were appropriate for a group of 35 5-year-olds . There was not a lot to work with. Fortunately, the kids' quick minds learned English faster than I could run out of books and songs.

Fast forward to their fourth grade musical. I was no longer teaching at Copperfield, so, for the first time, I was watching at the back of the cafetorium instead of directing from the front. I watched my little ones, turned big, and I saw their 9- and 10-year-old faces blending with my memories of their 5-year-old ones. I couldn't believe how far they had come. The intellectual and musical capacity of these children was so vast and so different from the kindergartners I once nervously handed drums to.

Oh, and their English is so good as they step up to the microphone that it is hard to remember it was ever any other way.