The Beauty of Immersion

You might not notice him walking down the street.  Average height and build.  Jeans with a T-shirt tucked in.  Curly hair and graying whiskers.  Maybe a college professor if he was wearing a blazer.  Maybe a sports fan if he was wearing a Twins hat.  Perhaps a Mayo doctor if he had a stethoscope around his neck.

But put him on a stage surrounded by 80 kids listening with rapt attention, and you'd know he was doing what he was created to do.  Not just directing theater productions, but capturing minds and hearts.  Mr. Driscoll is my kids' beloved community theater director.  As I stand off stage, busily upholstering set pieces or painting storefronts as we prepare for opening night of Music Man, I listen to him.  He's a father of 7 (I think) and a homeschooling dad and literature teacher.  He directs many shows each year and dreams up incredible sets and costumes and casts vision for hoards of volunteers. 

At the end of each rehearsal, after running through his list of corrections and notes, he sets to the task of inspiring.  "Why are we doing this, kids?  Because it is IMPORTANT!" he booms.  "This story needs to be told, and you have been chosen to tell it!"  My heart leaps for my children, who get to do something as important as tell a 1912 salesman story to their community, bringing joy and delight to the masses. 

Mr. Driscoll (say it aloud...his name even sounds like a character) talked yesterday about the beauty of immersion.  He said he has taught the same set of 8 sonnets for 25 years and they have become like old friends.  He told the kids to live and breathe Music Man for the next 2 weeks; to help with set and costumes, to study librettos, to become the character, and with every knee-high march in 76 Trombones, to look like you are having the most fun ever! 

I think about the things in my life I have poured myself into, sacrificed for, saturated my mind with, sold my soul to.  They are most dear and known.  They are mine and all mine.  In this world of a million pleasures and ample distractions and ADD, may I pursue the art of single-mindedness.  May I teach my children the beauty of knowing something deep and wide...a verse of Scripture, a poem, a piece of art, a selection of Beethoven. 

I am guilty as any of leaving a thousand things unfinished, like books, half-written songs, partially knitted scarves.   Because I worry my kids aren't getting enough exposure, I overteach subjects and underteach depth and they never fall in love with anything. 

I'm challenging myself this school year to slow down.  To give my kids space to fall in love.  Over and over and over.  Perhaps we'll start with a sonnet.  A question for you, reader...what do you know deeply and love forever?