Anne E.'s Journal March 15, 2007

ANNE E.'S JOURNAL -March 15, 2007 - Mario and Funnyman Music

As some of you know, I taught at a day care for 13 years (Ah to be wealthy again). Well while I was there, we had a child named Mario. Although you never tell children that one or the other is your favorite and you might not like to admit it, I must admit, he was mine. I loved him dearly like the rest but I liked him particularly. He was absolutely beautiful. He truly had a face that lit up the room. W hen he smiled, my goodness, you just wanted to squeeze him. But oh boy he was he a handful. At the time Mario was at the day care, I rolled into being the supervisor of the After-School Program so I had time during the school day to visit the 2-5 year-old classrooms. Well, Mario was I think 2 or 3 when he came to us so he was in one of these classrooms. These are classrooms where the kids are just getting to be more verbal, have fallen in love with the word "no" and bite to express anger. They have runny noses, dirty hands, untied (or unvelcroed) shoes and they're just adorable. Mario was often leading a raucous brought on by nonconformity He just did not seem to have a time table or any regard for planned activities. He did not agree that the door of a classroom indicated a boundary between him and the huge hallways leading to other rooms and other people. He was free spirit. This could drive you nuts if you were a teacher trying to conduct a class. But for me, he brought out my free spirit. I loved him for that.

Because I had some free time during the early hours of the day, I could visit these classrooms. When Mario was being himself I could take him out of the classroom in order to give his teacher a well deserved break. This meant I would have him all to myself... a lot. I could take him out of the class and help settle him down or let him be riled up until he got his energy situated. Sometimes I would just join in with him because I was tired of punching a time clock and needed to spread my wings a bit too. Sometimes we would just wander around the building and visit people, the accountant, the secretary, the women and men who worked in the kitchen, whatever.

Mario would usually start to fall asleep right before or after lunch. If it was after lunch and I had him with me at that time, I got to carry him up the spiral staircase of The Cleveland Christian Home (a great old building on the corner of Lorain and Bosworth in Cleveland that was an orphanage during the depression) into the nap room and to his cot. This is one of my best memories...ever.

He taught me about myself.

One of my other memories is of he and I singing together. We used to sing into a play microphone, you know one with a yellow plastic swirly cord attached to a red plastic tape recorder. I liked to bring out a little Nat King Cole and I never really understood a word he sang but I could listen to him for hours!!!!!

I came to realizing this....A school holds the potential for each teacher to find a child or children who is/are particular to them. You can have a teacher who just cannot relate to a child as they would like, walk down the hall and find a teacher who totally "gets" that child and can really have a great impact on that child's life. It is amazing. Every child can get the attention they deserve and need because everyone is different. My experience showed me that my job was to teach; to teach different kinds of children and with different kinds of teachers. My reward was to learn from them all.

With many different kinds of children and their many unique styles , you’re bound to learn if you watch and listen. As far as love goes, you love them all no matter how you relate to them. You have to love each one even if they yell at you, bite you, ignore you or call you some pretty select names (ask Matt, my lead guitarist, back up vocalist and songwriter, to tell you the story of being called a particular name while teaching).

Anyway, I loved that Mario. He had big cheeks like Dizzy Gillespie, the whitest teeth and clear, alive eyes. He was hysterical. I think all of the teachers and people around him had to laugh hard at least once because of him.

So one day I was leaving the day care and on my way to a nice break. I was going to the east coast for a week of R&R. At that time I was a full-time teacher and was about 2 years into my solo career, learning that whole business and performing every weekend. I really needed a break. So I was walking down the cement steps leading to the playground out the gate and into the parking lot. All the kids were outside for the afternoon. I was gonna walk out that gray squeaky metal gate with the horseshoe lever, to my car and say "see you later flat foot".
Then something unusual happened for which I am grateful. I saw Mario headed up the steps. He was with a family member and leaving the day care early. Usually Mario was the last to leave. His aunt was a hard worker and worked late most nights. She would usually pick him up just before 6PM, our closing time. Often, he and I and Miss Donna would be there in the play room enjoying the lull of another day done. This is where our concerts with the plastic microphone took place.

But today was different. Some other member of Mario’s family had come to get him and he was leaving early just as I was. I remember looking at him, touching his head and saying, "I’m gonna be gone the rest of the week because I’m going on vacation. I’ll see you when I get back. I love you." That was the last time I saw him. Mario died of Spinal Meningitis on a Tuesday morning, when I was away. They said he had headphones on the evening before and the last song they think he heard was, R. Kelly’s , "I Believe I Can Fly". You may remember the story in the news. Meningitis always sends a ripple through the community. It is a particularly scary disease because it’s contagious. Also, young children have a hard time describing its symptoms (stiff neck, low grade fever). And they usually do not show any glaring symptoms early on in the desease. These things make it extremely difficult to detect before it’s too late.
I don’t mean to bring you down or be dramatic. That’s just the way it happened.

So Funny Man Music is the company in which the business of Anne E DeChant is run. I named it thinking of Mario and to remind me of Mario in my daily life. It reminds me to laugh. Sometimes it’s hard but mostly I feel blessed to have known him. When someone asks me what "Funny Man Music" means I think of him. I think of walking up the spiral staircase.


	ANNE E.'S JOURNAL -March 15, 2007 - Mario and Funnyman Music
		As some of you know, I taught at a day care for 13 years (Ah to be wealthy again). Well while I was there, we had a child named Mario. Although you never tell children that one or the other is your favorite and you might not like to admit it, I must admit, he was mine. I loved him dearly like the rest but I liked him particularly. He was absolutely beautiful. He truly had a face that lit up the room. W hen he smiled, my goodness, you just wanted to squeeze him. But oh boy he was he a handful. At the time Mario was at the day care, I rolled into being the supervisor of the After-School Program so I had time during the school day to visit the 2-5 year-old classrooms. Well, Mario was I think 2 or 3 when he came to us so he was in one of these classrooms. These are classrooms where the kids are just getting to be more verbal, have fallen in love with the word "no" and bite to express anger. They have runny noses, dirty hands, untied (or unvelcroed) shoes and they're just adorable. Mario was often leading a raucous brought on by nonconformity He just did not seem to have a time table or any regard for planned activities. He did not agree that the door of a classroom indicated a boundary between him and the huge hallways leading to other rooms and other people. He was free spirit. This could drive you nuts if you were a teacher trying to conduct a class. But for me, he brought out my free spirit. I loved him for that. Because I had some free time during the early hours of the day, I could visit these classrooms. When Mario was being himself I could take him out of the classroom in order to give his teacher a well deserved break. This meant I would have him all to myself... a lot. I could take him out of the class and help settle him down or let him be riled up until he got his energy situated. Sometimes I would just join in with him because I was tired of punching a time clock and needed to spread my wings a bit too. Sometimes we would just wander around the building and visit people, the accountant, the secretary, the women and men who worked in the kitchen, whatever. Mario would usually start to fall asleep right before or after lunch. If it was after lunch and I had him with me at that time, I got to carry him up the spiral staircase of The Cleveland Christian Home (a great old building on the corner of Lorain and Bosworth in Cleveland that was an orphanage during the depression) into the nap room and to his cot. This is one of my best memories...ever. He taught me about myself. One of my other memories is of he and I singing together. We used to sing into a play microphone, you know one with a yellow plastic swirly cord attached to a red plastic tape recorder. I liked to bring out a little Nat King Cole and I never really understood a word he sang but I could listen to him for hours!!!!! I came to realizing this....A school holds the potential for each teacher to find a child or children who is/are particular to them. You can have a teacher who just cannot relate to a child as they would like, walk down the hall and find a teacher who totally "gets" that child and can really have a great impact on that child's life. It is amazing. Every child can get the attention they deserve and need because everyone is different. My experience showed me that my job was to teach; to teach different kinds of children and with different kinds of teachers. My reward was to learn from them all. With many different kinds of children and their many unique styles , you’re bound to learn if you watch and listen. As far as love goes, you love them all no matter how you relate to them. You have to love each one even if they yell at you, bite you, ignore you or call you some pretty select names (ask Matt, my lead guitarist, back up vocalist and songwriter, to tell you the story of being called a particular name while teaching). Anyway, I loved that Mario. He had big cheeks like Dizzy Gillespie, the whitest teeth and clear, alive eyes. He was hysterical. I think all of the teachers and people around him had to laugh hard at least once because of him. So one day I was leaving the day care and on my way to a nice break. I was going to the east coast for a week of R&R. At that time I was a full-time teacher and was about 2 years into my solo career, learning that whole business and performing every weekend. I really needed a break. So I was walking down the cement steps leading to the playground out the gate and into the parking lot. All the kids were outside for the afternoon. I was gonna walk out that gray squeaky metal gate with the horseshoe lever, to my car and say "see you later flat foot". Then something unusual happened for which I am grateful. I saw Mario headed up the steps. He was with a family member and leaving the day care early. Usually Mario was the last to leave. His aunt was a hard worker and worked late most nights. She would usually pick him up just before 6PM, our closing time. Often, he and I and Miss Donna would be there in the play room enjoying the lull of another day done. This is where our concerts with the plastic microphone took place. But today was different. Some other member of Mario’s family had come to get him and he was leaving early just as I was. I remember looking at him, touching his head and saying, "I’m gonna be gone the rest of the week because I’m going on vacation. I’ll see you when I get back. I love you." That was the last time I saw him. Mario died of Spinal Meningitis on a Tuesday morning, when I was away. They said he had headphones on the evening before and the last song they think he heard was, R. Kelly’s , "I Believe I Can Fly". You may remember the story in the news. Meningitis always sends a ripple through the community. It is a particularly scary disease because it’s contagious. Also, young children have a hard time describing its symptoms (stiff neck, low grade fever). And they usually do not show any glaring symptoms early on in the desease. These things make it extremely difficult to detect before it’s too late. I don’t mean to bring you down or be dramatic. That’s just the way it happened. So Funny Man Music is the company in which the business of Anne E DeChant is run. I named it thinking of Mario and to remind me of Mario in my daily life. It reminds me to laugh. Sometimes it’s hard but mostly I feel blessed to have known him. When someone asks me what "Funny Man Music" means I think of him. I think of walking up the spiral staircase.