…and yet more concert talk.
When I transitioned from teaching full time to writing, I took over for a friend having chemo and taught all of his classes for a semester. Additionally, another teacher got stuck with a visa issue overseas, so we all ended up scrambling. That semester I taught junior high math and science, and choir – most notably, Kindergarten choir, twice a week… which at least made a change from junior high, where the floods of tears were from students who had forgotten their notes for the open-note test. (Too bad, these things happen, do your best.) In Kindergarten they cried because they didn’t know how to sing a round, they didn’t want to learn to sing a round, they wanted to run in circles, and Ms. Davis was mean. (Put your bottom in the chair, not your feet, please.)
While basically unmoved by tears, Ms. Davis subsequently did her best to see that she and Kindergarten did not spend much time together after that.
However, in the course of that semester, I had to give an open house concert, because the school year, and thus the show must go on. I can’t tell you how much respect I have for music teachers, especially this time of year, when it’s big, showy, shiny concerts where we’re all in our places (allegedly) with bright shining faces (is that glitter!?), and no matter what, you must appear poised and gracious and ignore the waving child, or the girl who is so enamored of her dress that she’s dancing with it, raised above her head, or the junior high boys who are punching each other (although after, there will be words), or the high schoolers who had a huge falling out right before the first song and are trying not to cry… oh, yeah. Good times. Raise your mug to music teachers, people. They have a JOB.
combined whip and chair
the illusion of control
and the band plays on
Recently, I looked over some pictures of the school concerts I’ve attended this year and years past, and realized… there is ALWAYS one kid doing something other than playing with their band mates or singing. ALWAYS. This, more than anything else underscores the basic truth: control – over kid singers or players or anything else, really – is an illusion.
dashing through the halls
a musician’s Christmas wish:
to sit still, still, still
I love this post so much. The poems, too, but the idea of you as a Kindergarten choir teacher trying to peel the little tykes off the ceiling…
Yes, raising a mug to the music teachers. I won’t tell you what’s in my mug because I need a raised mug at this point, too!
This is hilarious! And yes, the only thing I’m asking of Santa this year is the gift of a week of SLOTHFUL living.
Didn’t know about your kindergarten choir experience. That must have been a hoot! I agree that music teachers are amazing paragons of patience and poise. Still, those unexpected disruptions make these events even more memorable. Perfection and control are both illusions.