The official concerts included annual Spring concert (June 5) performed by the elementary band, orchestra and 5th grade chorus, the 5th grade Farewell  Assembly (June 13) which we do in lieu of a graduation and the Reader’s Assembly on the last day of school (June 14) during which the reading specialists, librarian and classroom teachers do songs, dances and hand out summer reading lists. The unofficial concerts are the events scheduled in my classroom, dictated by need.  When an assembly takes place that I am involved in directing I end up doubling or tripling up on my classes to make up for lost instructional time (and contracted  prep time for classroom teachers).  These lessons, with  40 – 75 kids at a time, are performances in my mind.  They are as active,  interactive ,  and entertaining as I can make them given the logistical and management constraints of so large a group.  In other words, we sing a lot and I tell stories. This year, in addition to these, I hosted an hour-long jam session with our special needs class, a very special performance indeed... one that takes me out of my musical comfort zone. I don't mind performing.  I like it.  It goes with the job.  It's part of the appeal.  However, there is something about my energy expenditure that's different for a performance that is not quite the same as teaching a class.  It's more draining.  It's not just that I'm super-intent on what I'm doing, I'm constantly monitoring an audience, whether its 3, 5, 20 or 400 kids and adults and the central musical activity.  It is (for me anyway) the ultimate in multi-tasking, especially if the music is to adhere to the standard I think kids should have.  My gestures, attention, communication both verbal and non-verbal is more extreme, larger than life, big enough to grab and keep the group focus in the right place, and on the right sound.  It's as though I have to become the iMax 3D theater in a 5'8" human frame. It doesn't matter what kind of performance it is, when it is done I am tired, hungry, and often need to withdraw socially.  Basically my psyche has been dancing naked in public - and it needs quiet time out of the public eye.  So, when the last day of school arrived and the children were dismissed for the last time this academic year, my comment: "...and they all just walked out the door..." was about the fact that only then was I beginning to feel the impact of what has felt like a non-stop performance, one that began with having to announce to one of my kindergarten classes about the death of Ellen, our principal, and continued to the time of that journal entry.  Essentially, the duration of the time I have been a member here at Daily Strength.