Even when you know it's coming (A eulogy for Jim Foglesong)

Last night while I was sleeping, the man who laid the framework for everything I know about the music industry breathed his last.  Today, there is a sadness in my heart, even though lately there had been no doubt in my mind that this day was coming and coming soon.

I met Jim Foglesong, whom I and many of my friends refer to as JFo (He smiled the biggest smile I'd ever seen from him when I asked if he minded us calling him that.), in the Fall of 2007.  He taught my Survey of Music Business class at Trevecca, a class that held the vast majority of the people who star in my fondest memories of my college years.  It took me a whole two weeks to look the man up on Wikipedia, and the results led me to do the same for each and every one of my professors.  You see, what I didn't realize was that I was basically being taught Music Business by the man who made the Business what it is today.  Let me just give you a brief overview of what he did for the Industry (as quoted from Wikipedia):

Foglesong helped lay the foundation for the new country music boom in the 1990s. As president of Dot, ABC, Capitol Records and MCA, he signed popular artists, among them Barbara Mandrell, Don Williams, Garth Brooks, Donna Fargo, Reba McEntire, the Oak Ridge Boys, Con Hunley, George Strait, Tanya Tucker, Sawyer Brown, Suzy Bogguss, Kevin Morris. Foglesong was inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame in 2004.

My class found the late afternoon (read: directly preceding dinner) scheduling of Professor Foglesong's Tuesday/Thursday class difficult to focus through, despite his amazing credentials.  As a result, we spent a good deal of time chatting with each other over instant messenger, but our classroom was always full of laughter, and I think that's how he liked it.  I never once kidded myself into thinking that he didn't know what was going on in his classroom, but he never mentioned it.  Instead, he threw anecdotes into his lectures to keep us on our toes and pop our heads up from the glow of our computer screens.  He'd talk about his life in his younger days, and we suddenly realized that he wasn't just the grandfatherly gentleman we saw in front of us, who dressed up for class and encouraged us to do the same.  He was a real person who really lived.

Though I knew Jim was the former president of many record labels, the only time that really affected our relationship was when I was applying for internships and jobs.  All the other times, he was simply JFo, and I was Miss Royster (sometimes Anne).  We'd always stop and talk to each other when we crossed paths in the hallways of the music building.  He always had time for me, and that taught me to always have time for him.

When I went to ask him if it would be okay if I came to our Survey of Music Business II class a bit late on Thursdays, though, I was still nervous.  I didn't want to disrespect him, but I was in a bit of a pickle.  I worked at my internship (which he helped me to get, by the way) until closing time; in other words: until 10 minutes before class started.  With most of the record labels actually being in the next suburb over, it was impossible for me to safely make it back to class on time, and I felt even less comfortable asking my boss to let me leave early.  So I approached JFo.  I don't remember exactly what he said to me after hearing my well-rehearsed plea, but I do know it went something like this:

JFo: So, you're asking if you can come to my class late?
Me: Yes, sir.  But just on Thursdays.  I hate to ask it, but I don't know what else to do.
JFo: Miss Royster, I trust you.  You're a hard-worker, and I know you'll get the notes.
Me: Thank you.
JFo: Furthermore, wouldn't it be a bit silly for me to penalize you for going out and doing what I'm teaching you to do?

I love that man.

Foglesong, on being inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame

In the years to come, I'd find myself missing classes with Prof. Foglesong.  I missed the regular contact with him and learning about his life.  I missed the familial atmosphere that came from spending so much time there with people all intent on the same goal (becoming big-shots in the Music Industry).  I missed the subtle dousing of invincibility he gave us.  Of course we could conquer the Business.  He was teaching us; he believed in us; he was for us.  How could we fail?

When Foglesong began retiring from teaching at Trevecca, I felt it sorely.  No more were the days of hallway conversations.  Though he did still attend most of my concerts and recitals, it wasn't quite the same.  We knew why he wasn't at Trevecca anymore.  His health was becoming an issue, and it was showing.  That didn't stop me from secretly hoping he'd come good on his promise from Survey I: That'd we'd all gather for our 50th reunion in that room, and he'd come in and tell us what a wonderful job we were doing (despite being in his mid-80's when he started teaching us).  Basically, he promised to be our Mr. Feeny.  I really wanted that to be true, silly as it was.

There came a time when I no longer believed I belonged in Music Business.  I began to doubt myself and my abilities in the field.  I saw my friends around me heading for stardom, and I felt nothing more than mediocre, acing the tests, but failing in the practical application.  It was in that season that I got a call from Prof. Foglesong: a call of encouragement.  He was calling to tell me he'd personally nominated me for an award in his name for excellence in the field of Music Business.  He believed in me enough to forever have my name associated with his.  Even typing that now, the levity of his action brings me to tears.

But I do not cry for Jim.  No.  Not at all.  Jim Foglesong was a man of G-d in every thing that he did.  His faith was at the core of who he was, and it radiated out from him.  He was forever loving on everyone he met, forever thinking of the people around him, forever reminding people to be honorable simply by his actions (and occasionally in word for the particularly stubborn case).

No, I cry for me.  I cry that I will not see his smiling face again for a long time.  I cry for the world, for how many people will never have the chance to be personally blessed by him.  I cry for his wife, for her monumental loss.  But I do not cry for Jim.  He is in Heaven now, and I have no doubt that he's singing his heart out.

Honoring G-d with Our Thoughts

First of all, I want to thank all of you who have stuck with me, in spite of my sabbatical.  I just checked my December stats, and it is, surprisingly, not that much lower than usual.  You all touch my heart.

Now, on to the main event.

I want to talk to you about something that's been on my heart for about the past 6 months.  I mean, truthfully, it's something I've thought about a lot longer than that, but it's progressed to something that's been stressing me out lately.

I want to talk to you about Modesty and Respect.  This is such a big topic, and I'm overwhelmed at where to start.  So I'm just going to go, and I hope you will stick with me.  I'm not usually known for being succinct when I'm passionate, so I'll try to bold and enlarge the highlights for you skimmers out there.  Furthermore, if you want to read the posts that finally spurred me to write this, you can look here and here.  (Warning, they're also not short.)

Modesty has nothing to do with guilt. This was a big lesson for me to learn.  I may not have been the most Amish of dressers growing up, and I still am not, nor do I think I ever will be, but that is nothing for me to feel guilty about.  I didn't always believe that, though.  I bought into the lie that we tell our girls: "It's your responsibility to keep your brothers from sinning by dressing appropriately."  I'm sorry...What?  I want you to read that over again a couple of times, because, on first pass, it may be hard to catch what's wrong with this statement.  So read it again.  The more I read it, the more sad I become, because we've been deceived.  It is not our responsibility to prevent anyone from sinning.  I want you to read that very carefully.  Put frankly, it's idolatry to think that you can stop anyone from sinning.  There's only One person that can step in, change us, and turn us away from our sins, and that's G-d.  The issue of lust is a much deeper issue that goes beyond what any person is wearing.  I'm sure you've heard people talking about leaving room for the imagination in your dressing, while talking about how much they love sundress season a couple weeks later.  People who are going to lust are going to lust.  What a person wears isn't going to change that.  So let's stop pointing the finger at the dresser and start praying for healing for our brothers and sisters.

Which brings me to my next point.  Lust is not just something men do.  It feels like everywhere I turn, I see women gushing over pictures of topless men, or even men wearing less clothes than that, and, in some bizarre turn of events, this has been deemed "okay."  I can't help but be disgusted and deeply saddened by this practice.  If men were constantly posting pictures of topless or underwear-clad women on their Facebooks and commenting on how sexy they found them, the female community would be outraged.  We'd crucify them.  So I don't understand.  What's the difference?  But don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I'm immune.  If this is thrown at a person constantly, it's nearly impossible to stay above it, whether they are male or female.  I get that it's hard not to lust; believe me, I do.  If a man has strong hands or has paid attention to his upper arms in his workout routine, I'm having to work my hardest to keep my thoughts pure.

So what can I do?  Do I ask him, "Excuse me, sir, but would you mind wearing gloves?  Your hands are really distracting me from G-d right now."  No.  Of course not.  First of all, that's pointless.  Him covering his hands is not going to change the fact that my mind has headed down that path.  Him changing is not going to cure my indiscretion.  The only way I can stop my sin is by working with G-d to change me.

But that doesn't mean that we need to ignore the clothes issue entirely.  What it does mean is that we need to be dressing to honor G-d with our bodies.  G-d is judging us by our hearts, so I think that it is important to know your heart, even as you are picking out your outfit in the morning.  Why are you wearing what you are?  Are you thinking, "Oh, I'm going to turn on all the guys by wearing this outfit"? I think we can all agree that that is not honoring G-d.  You're dressing for men and your sexuality, making them the center of your thoughts as you're dressing.  I'd dare to take this as far as questioning if I dressed with the right thought life this morning when I dressed with one thought: "What is going to keep me warm?"

The most important part is that you're honoring G-d.  Honor G-d with your body.  Honor G-d with your thoughts.  Honor G-d with your actions.

I could keep going on down this rabbit trail.  I could double or triple the length of this post by bringing rape, assault, pornography and pedophilia  into the mix, but I think that at this point I've give you enough to go on to guess what I would say, so I'll leave that for another impassioned day.

It's 1:48am, and I JUST finished tomorrow's Captain Bob.

So make sure you read it tomorrow.  I'm pretty proud of this one.

It's interesting to me how now that I'm leaving my elementary school, I finally feel like I'm making a difference there.  It feels like people - students and teachers alike - are finally listening to me and finally expressing/seeing that I do a good job (new teacher status bringing allowances, of course).  I have a feeling that some of it is just cultural bull, but one thing happened on Friday that cannot be explained away.

My fifth-graders have just been playing review games since their finals (read: midterm).  I can understand why it's happening (who's really going to listen after you've already taken the final?), but it also means that I usually have to yell myself hoarse just so the kids can hear what the question is.  Finally, empowered by the fact that I'm already leaving, so they can't very well threaten me with that, I took discipline into my own hands.  Every time a team got too loud, they got additive points taken off their score.  First offense = -1pt., second = -2pts., and so forth.  Unfortunately, the all-boys team got so far behind that they no longer cared, so, instead of taking off the 6 points they had added up to, I had them all stand up and hold their arms above their heads (a quite mild punishment for Korea, mind you). One boy, however, refused.

"I wasn't talking!" He said (in Korean, of course).  "I shouldn't have to be in trouble!"  We (yes, we - my Co-teacher joined me at this point) tried waiting, we tried pressuring him, we tried reasoning with him - nothing.  Finally, we let the rest of the class go, and took him to his homeroom teacher.  She informed us that he was just stubborn, and she would not be talking to him, because it was a waste of her time.  This upset me, and I informed my Co-teacher of it.  We decided to take the student down to the teachers' lounge and talk to him some more, there.  At first, I just let my Co-teacher handle it, but they were both just getting more and more angry, so I joined in, asking her to translate very calmly what I wanted to say to him. 


"I know you're upset," I said, "and I know that this doesn't feel fair, but I want you to think about this:  If you had answered every question wrong, but your team still won, you would want candy, too, right? Well, this goes with that.  When we do something as a team, it is like we are one person.  What happens to one person on the team happens to everyone."  He calmed down a bit while I was talking, so we had him go back to his homeroom.  


Meanwhile, my Co-teacher informed me of every "rude" comment he made:  "He told me, 'I could be doing much worse.'  I couldn't believe it!  He was so rude!"  This confused me a bit, since I remember telling my mom the exact same thing in high school, and I agreed with him.  He could have been doing a lot worse, but respecting his teachers is going to be a vital lesson to have learned when he graduates to middle school, so I wasn't about to let it go.  (Because my personal stubbornness has nothing to do with it... Sure.)


I figured that was the end of it.


But I was wrong.


After school, the boy came back to the teacher's lounge and handed us a letter.  My Co-teacher read it to me, while he stood, waiting.  Basically, he wrote the following (paraphrased) note:

Dear [Co-teacher] and Native English Teacher {Yes, that was how he addressed me...},

       I am very sorry for losing my temper in class.  That was wrong of me.  Even if I think something is not fair, I should still listen to and respect my teachers.  Also, I am sorry because we were doing a team activity, and I was acting as an individual.  This was wrong of me.  I am sorry.

Sincerely,

[Student]

We were both floored.  Not only did the kid apologize, he apparently listened to every word we said.


I feel like I'm finally making a difference, and I couldn't be happier.   I love these kids so much, and I apparently have to be fearless - respectful, but fearless of repercussion - to translate that into the best action possible.

Pray that G-d will continue to guide me and keep me in check.

<3,
Anne Nicole Royster
로행복

Lent: Reminder

***Don't forget to sign the petition (and this one too!) to save refugees from North Korea!***

Blessing #24 - The kindness of strangers.

Today is the day that my allergies kick my butt sinus-pressure-wise, unless I dope up on medications, which I hate doing, but I had to teach, so I chose the medicine route.  Unfortunately, this induced zombie-Anne on the bus this morning, meaning that I realized what the thud was as I was getting off the bus just a little too late.  Yes, the sound that attracted the attention of everyone on the bus except me was my phone tumbling off of my lap and onto the bus stairs.  I realized it just as the bus pulled away from the stop.

Fittingly, this is a picture of my head teacher and me,
on a bus, celebrating 빼빼로 Day (11/11).

I got to school as quickly as I could in my mouth-breathing state, and my head teacher made some phone calls for me to try and locate my phone.  Amazingly, no one had swiped it, nor had they stepped on it.  The bus driver kindly searched the bus for it, and, finding it, told us what time to expect him back at the stop and promised to deliver it to me.

So, at 9:40am, I found myself anxiously waiting at the bus stop where I figured he'd show up.  Unfortunately, I forgot to account for route reversal, so I had to dash into the street as the bus driver pulled up, holding my phone out the window (sometimes it pays to be a minority).  He was quite the congenial guy, chuckling at me and the handful of chocolates I shoved at him.  I'm sure he got a good laugh at me almost getting hit by a car on my way back to the sidewalk, too.  I hope he and his wife enjoyed the story over dinner.  I know my friend and I did as he stopped by to help me with the art project I'm currently working on.  (It's due on Wednesday, but that site may get an unfinished version.  We'll see.)

As for me and my phone - we're reunited, unscathed.  I'm grateful.  I like my iPhone and its ability to connect me to the US for minimal costs.  In fact, for about $60/year, I can buy a US number through Skype, which, thanks to its iPhone app, connects straight to my phone.  Anyone who can call Tennessee for free can reach me in Korea for free.  It's pretty awesome.

My cute phone, after it lost one of its feet.  I removed the other.  They're both in my purse now, waiting for me to get adventurous with some superglue.

But I digress.  Today there were a whole lot of strangers who could have made my life pretty annoying without any real consequence to themselves, but they chose not to.  How often would you see that happen in the States?  I think that's something we should work on, and a definite part of groupthink that we could afford to adopt.

When was the last time someone you didn't know did something nice for you?  When was the last time you paid it forward?

안녕하세요?

Ahhhh... culture, culture, culture! There's a lot of it here, and definitely a lot to learn. So far, I've realized that Koreans love English (whether or not that extends to its speakers, I have yet to decide), but they all take the opportunity to exercise whatever level of English that they have. I cannot tell you how many times complete strangers have said hello to me on the street... but that's also part of culture. Whenever I see, well... anyone, really, I'm supposed to give my "안녕하세요?" and bow. I don't mind, really... it's kind of fun to see them smile at my attempt to use Korean. (I impressed my employers with a "반갑습니다," today. They were almost as excited as I was.

Everything here is very much a hierarchy. For example, of the three Koreans with whom I work most closely (Jenny, Terry, and Jeff), Jeff is the newest to the program, so when we go out to eat, he is always the one who has to go ask for more things at a restaurant or take the annoying jobs (like taking us on a tour of the city), and he happily does so. (I don't know if all Koreans are content in this system, because Jeff is just a generally happy guy, but I get the impression that they're okay with it.) Anyone who is of a higher position than you is to be shown extreme respect and addressed by their title. For example, I will be "Teacher Anne" (if I'm lucky... somehow, they got it into their heads that I'm Anna... which worries me, because most of their English is learned from movies and pop culture...), and my principal will be "Principal [whoever]" or "Dr. [whoever]." You don't call someone of a higher respect level by their first name... ever. (Think of manners in the Deep South.) Eye contact goes with this too... You're not to make eye contact with someone of a higher respect level, or else you'll be seen as confrontational... You're more of to aim for the chin or neck, which is just as well, as I'd prefer to be attempting to read lips when I'm working with non-native-speakers, anyway.

My 아파트 is a pretty good example of Korean culture, from what I've been able to tell. It's small, of course, but things its previous owners decided they didn't need have been left here (apparently my bed frame is included in that list... not all the teachers have one). Mostly, it's about functionality, with lots of tape residue all over the walls, but that tape is also evidence of another part of Korean culture: a love for hanging "cute" things all over the wall (all the 3M hooks were some of the things left by previous owners). Also, Jenny, Terry, and Jeff, made sure to leave me a shelf full of essentials, so I wouldn't have to worry about finding these things in stores while I'm still jet lagged. Some of those things have been dispersed through my apartment (for example, the blow dryer they left me has been moved, box and all, into the bathroom, in the hopes that I will convince myself to learn to use it), but I was so grateful to them for this that I almost started to cry when I saw them. I was also left a pair of house shoes, and shower shoes, that are most helpful... which brings me to the shower itself. Like I said before, Koreans are big into functionality over aesthetics, so prepare yourself...
...
...
...
Ready? Here we go:
Yup... no shower curtain. The whole floor is made of a waterproof plastic tile, so it is just expected to go everywhere. It's always been dry by morning, so I assume the system works. It's really not too bad... it just is taking some getting used to.

Okay, I think that's probably enough information overload for you today. (Trust me, though, this doesn't even begin to touch the overload I'm currently feeling... but I think this is a good overload.) I want to reiterate that I love it here... almost as much as I love you all. Have a good rest of the day! And, seeing as I see the rest of the day before you do, I can tell you that it only goes uphill throughout the day. ;)

<3