first published December, 2023
Facts are always true, but sometimes they can’t begin to tell the whole truth.
Fact: Sue Mogan was our kids’ elementary school music teacher.
Truth: Sue Mogan was the most influential educator in our family’s history. She was at once teacher, mentor, colleague, cheerleader, confidant, and friend. She was foundational; she was inspirational. She set my three children—and myself—onto paths that none of us have ever really left. Sue Mogan changed our lives.
To be honest, I’m a bit conflicted saying all of this out loud on the internet: Mogan was humble (world’s greatest understatement) and self-effacing and never, ever wanted the spotlight to be on her, almost annoyingly so. It was always—always—about the students. Like, really. Yet, I am compelled to share my feelings publicly, despite her probable objection, because she is gone and I need you to know about her, so you can see the extraordinary person that she was and some of what she did. I need to express my grief this way, and so I will ask you to bear with me while I go on for just a bit.
We met Mogan (like many intimates, we usually operated on a last-name basis) when our eldest was in 1st grade. This was our first year at Hackberry Hill Elementary, a standard public school set apart somewhat as one of the district’s “gifted center” schools, one class in each grade level being composed of “gifted learners,” providing the differentiated curriculum they required. The gifted center is what brought us there. Anyway, students from all the classrooms would be together for lunch and recess, and each grade level mixed up for daily rotations between art, music, and PE. This meant that every student had class with Mogan every third day.
I didn’t meet Mogan in the classroom, though, but in Beginning Guitar. Beginning Guitar? For a 1st grader? Let me explain.
Mogan was a cellist–an outstanding cellist–and also played piano, violin, viola, and guitar. She was a trained Suzuki strings instructor, and every year offered lessons to any student who wished to learn to play. For free. And for no extra compensation; she did this because she wanted to. She held classes before school, after school, and during her lunch and planning periods, eating and doing everything else on the fly. Any student first grade and older could learn violin, viola, or cello at no cost; she also taught guitar, and that is how we found ourselves in the music room at 7:00 am on a Monday morning.
Sarah had begun learning guitar in kindergarten, and it was something she wanted to continue. She spent a year in Mogan’s Beginning Guitar and continued in Advanced Guitar through the end of 6th grade, playing everything from “Ode to Joy” to “Stairway to Heaven”. Parent involvement was encouraged, so I was at every lesson.
Halfway through that first year Sarah decided to join choir. Mogan directed a choir of 120-ish students ranging from kindergarten through 6th grade. They met once a week before school, and that is how we found ourselves in the gym at 7:00 am on a Thursday morning.
The students had printed music available during rehearsals, but did not bring music home. Instead, they had lyric sheets and a taped (yeah, that first year anyway) recording of each song and parts. Did I mention this was a 2-part choir? We listened to that tape in the car, and I found myself quietly singing along during rehearsals, mostly to keep my other two kids entertained.
I must not have sung quietly enough because one of Mogan’s dedicated volunteers heard me, and before semester’s end approached me about possibly helping to record the practice tracks for the next term’s music. And that is how I found myself in the music room singing and recording choir practice tapes (soon to be CD’s) twice a year for the next 10 years. Mogan was on piano while another parent managed the mix—and how we would laugh. I sang part 2, the lower part, and for a few years my recording partner was a very special part 1 singer: Sarah! Those were long days, usually a Sunday, but boy we had a blast singing together. Singing with your own kid—pure joy! Mogan gave us that.
The next year Scott was in kindergarten and joined the choir; a few years later Shawn was added to the mix and for 2 years, all 3 of our kids sang together. I continued to attend rehearsals, helping set up and tear down, and wandering in the back singing different parts with the students. This was a fabulous way to get to know kids in all grade levels.
A few years into this, Mogan approached me with a question. K-6 was a ton of fun, but she really wanted a chance to work with the older students on some more challenging music. We only had half an hour each week to rehearse, but maybe we could split the group for part of some rehearsals? Mogan asked if I be willing to direct the K-2 students on one or two songs of their own. And that is how I found myself impersonating a choir director for 20 or so little kids once a week and at concerts. I couldn’t believe I was getting to do this. I had been in choirs but I had never led them; I am not a trained music teacher. But she had confidence in me. And I had my mother, an actual trained music teacher, on the other end of the phone giving me pointers. We did this for, what, 4 years? 5? Never in a million years would I have the chance to do this anywhere else, to truly connect with these young students and help them learn to love singing. What a blessing it was. Mogan gave that to me.
You still with me? Because there’s more and I really want to you hear this.
Back to strings. Mogan didn’t just teach beginning violin, viola, and cello; she also conducted two elementary school orchestras. Two! Students would take 1 year of group beginning Suzuki lessons, half an hour each week. Then they moved up to the Intermediate Orchestra. The goals of intermediate orchestra were simple: learn to play in a full orchestra, and learn to read music. There were typically 20-25-ish students, grades 2-6, in Intermediate Orchestra. After that year, they could move on to Advanced Orchestra, where they played real orchestral music. I’d say on average there were 30-50 students, usually grades 3-6, in Advanced Orchestra.
[Digression: a note about the music. None of this was dumbed down. Some of the pieces the choir got to sing were things I had sung in high school, or was currently singing in my adult community choir. Similarly, the orchestras played everything from Bach to Beethoven to Coldplay. It was not uncommon to hear high school orchestras playing this stuff. And they played it well! Anyway . . .]
The orchestras met twice a week, each, during school hours (i.e., Mogan’s lunch and planning periods). Teachers released them from their classrooms for this, and let’s admit, there is NO WAY this program would have been successful without the blessing of the entire admin and staff. She knew this, and worked tirelessly to make it worth everyone’s while.
Quick question: are you doing any “pencil math” on the amount of time my kids got to spend with this woman? Or the number of students she got to connect with?
Scott joined Beginning Violin in 1st grade. The Suzuki method utilizes adult/parent “home coaches” to support learning, and that is how I found myself in the music room after school every Friday learning to coach Scott on his tiny violin.
Coaches assist with practicing, so as I did with Sarah on her guitar, I was right alongside Scott learning the techniques and melodies on Suzuki Violin, Book 1. I can still “sing” those songs: E 2 2, 3 1 1, A 1 2 3 E E E . . . Anyway, we were good students, listening to the CD’s in the car, singing them at the table, etc. At the end of that year I was inspired to rent a violin for myself: I was curious if all that coaching and ear training would translate into playing. Mogan always said, “If you can sing it, you can play it.” It turned out that I could! I played almost right through to the end of that book. I never became a proficient violinist but it did make me a more effective coach, especially when Shawn began viola a couple years later. (And yes, I was Shawn’s home coach as well, learning to translate everything into viola language: A 2 2, 3 1 1, D 1 2 3 A A A . . .)
And Shawn is still playing, now a 3rd-year college student studying music and equine science. Shawn has been playing that viola for 15 years. (Well, not that viola. That first viola was about the size of a sandwich. J) For Shawn, the viola became a voice and a big chunk of identity; they are connected. Mogan is to thank for that.
You’ve probably noticed that orchestras sit down. Mogan had a cadre of devoted parent volunteers who came to school in the middle of the day to set up chairs and stands, striking them once rehearsal was over. And that is how I found myself in the music room twice a week wrestling music stands and folding chairs, and generally assisting the students (up bow, down bow) doing whatever Mogan needed that day. That soon became 4 days a week, once Shawn was playing viola and Sarah added cello to her life in 4th grade.
Still with me?
The orchestras and choir had an exceptional accompanist, another parent volunteer. She was fantastic, and attended every single rehearsal. (In the middle of the day! This is the loyalty that this woman inspired.) Eventually, the accompanist’s kids graduated, and sadly, she graduated with them. This left a colossal hole. I would watch Mogan hop back and forth from piano to conductor’s stand, a tough gig in a room of 45 young orchestra students.
So, during Intermediate Orchestra I started to plunk out parts here and there, just to give the students a little support. Make no mistake: I am not a pianist. I had childhood lessons and played a little bit at home but this stuff was far above my skill level. Plunking parts, now, that was in my wheelhouse, something I could easily help with. But you can probably see where this is going. Indeed, Mogan encouraged me to keep playing those parts, and then why don’t I go ahead and try the accompaniment? This was simple stuff, not full orchestral arrangements, so I worked at it. She praised and supported my rudimentary skills and I slowly gained confidence. She kept up her encouragement and handed me music and that is how I found myself being the “accidental accompanist” for the Intermediate and Advanced Orchestras.
I gotta say, this is one of the most challenging things I have ever done. I don’t think my kids practiced orchestra music that much but boy, I sure did! There were two especially tough pieces: a bit of the Brandenburg Concerto, and a fast, high-energy piece called “Conquistador.” I worked hard on those. Again I consulted my mom, an accomplished pianist, who gave me many pointers and much essential guidance.
Sometimes when I would practice, Scott and Shawn would play with me. Good practice for them, too, and so helpful to me—and fun. One day Sarah, now in middle school, said, “I think I have a couple of those.” She pulled out her instrument and there we were: Scott on violin, Shawn on viola, Sarah on cello, and me on piano, our own little family quartet, making real music together.
It was magical.
Mogan gave us that.
Concert night was here. Please, I begged, let me not [screw] this up. Let me not ruin this night (and look like a totally incompetent fool). I knew I was a fraud but I did not want to be a disaster. You know what, I did not screw up. I played those Suzuki pieces, those etudes, that Brandenburg Concerto; I conquered “Conquistador.” I couldn’t believe it, I did it! I did not let her down! For that brief, shining moment, I was an accompanist. I was so proud of myself—and never wanted to do it again.
Later, when I was thinking about getting my sub license, Mogan was an enthusiastic supporter. “Oh, do it. Then you can sub for me!” As if she was ever absent. Well, occasionally she would have to miss a day, which was so lucky for me. I only subbed at Hackberry and I think I was basically a competent sub, but certainly not brilliant. I usually felt like an imposter. In Mogan’s classroom though, I felt totally at home and believed that I actually added value. Subbing in her classroom—along with various rehearsals—was pure joy. I felt like a real teacher. Mogan gave me that.
Mogan gave music to my kids, forever. Scott and Sarah remained in choir—multiple choirs simultaneously—all through high school, and both did some singing in college. Shawn, of course, still plays viola. Music is part of them, part of the fabric of our family. More than that, Mogan helped them learn how to perform, not just in a musical setting, but anywhere, like doing a presentation or conducting a meeting. Or teaching. And she taught all her students how to be a respectful, attentive audience. Too often I am disgusted at audience behavior and think, Those people need to learn to do a “Hackberry sit down.”
I know I have gone on an awfully long time here, but are you are beginning see why? This wasn’t just any teacher. Through her passion for music and love of her students, this woman built not just a school music program but a school community–an identity.
Yes, I know I need to wrap this up but I haven’t even told you about the grade-level programs she directed, how every student participated. How as the hero Preston Praiseworthy in the 4th grade melodrama Scott got to declaim the unforgettable line, “That rapscallion has stolen my stallion!”
I haven’t told you about the annual talent show that Mogan produced each year, how she put me on the panel of audition judges every year, or how that was my favorite volunteer gig of all time.
I haven’t told you about the many concerts and other events, setting up chairs (make sure there are “windows” between those seats!) and tuning all those instruments while she wrangled a herd of kids and parents and fretted about the tiniest details—then gave credit to everyone else for pulling it off.
I didn’t even tell you about summer lessons, about how she invited all of us—students and families—to her home to celebrate all that summertime playing with an al fresco concert, potluck, and mountain hike.
Or about the astonishing life she had apart from teaching, like running, hiking, and mountaineering.
I didn’t tell you about the countless phone calls, the long hours chatting about school, life—about everything.
Or about visiting her at her home, hiking to “the rock”; or about her attending my kid’s recitals.
Or how we are just one of thousands of families whose lives she redirected.
Or about the admiration and devotion and love I feel for her. About our shared Capricorn-ness. About our confidences. About laughing. About my unending gratitude for her, how lucky I am to have earned her trust, how thankful I am to have spent so much time in her orbit.
About the last time we spoke. About the pain of losing her. About my deep, deep sorrow.
She was a rare person. She changed me. She gave me so many things I didn’t even know I needed.
Fact: Sue Mogan is gone.
Truth: I will miss her forever.
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