I had just met the children.  The classroom was overflowing with eager parents and not-so-eager children.  New + big + different = scary. For fifteen minutes we looked at each other, me smiling and children with big worried eyes.  The classroom may have looked wonderful, but all that children could see were too many other people – and new teachers.

I knew just what to do.  I pulled out the autoharp.

It’s big.  Really big, with twenty-one strings.  I sat down and put it on my lap.  Suddenly there wasn’t a sound in the room.  Nobody said a word.  I looked at the autoharp and touched a string.

Me:  “The strings make sounds.  Like this.”

And then I plucked a few strings, from low to high, pausing between each sound.  At the last one I winced my face, readying for the tiniest string that would play a really, really high…