I know. It doesn't seem to have much to do with teaching band, does it, but bear with me. I think I can make a corny connection between food allergies and music that hides the seriousness of the problem (the allergies I mean, not the music) but also has a silver lining.
The problem is half my brain these days is trying to wrap itself around the fact that my dear daughter, all of thirteen months old, is allergic to milk, eggs, and probably wheat.
One by one the dominoes fall--the next possible allergies are to soy, nuts, seeds, and shellfish. And the basic gist of it all is, when you get right down to brass tacks, is that I have to keep her alive and healthy until she can do it for herself.
When you look at ingredient lists of packaged food at the store, you may or may not see "contains wheat, eggs, and dairy" or some such. Many packaged foods (and let's admit it, a busy working mom like me doesn't have time to cook all day, so we must occasionally rely on packaged food) contain hidden milk ingredients such as casein, whey, and other things you would never ever guess were milk but are.
Did I mention the epi-pen I carry with me everywhere?
I have reason to believe that my dear daughter's small size is related to her diet and the restrictions to it thereof. By now she would be drinking whole milk, which is full of brain-nurturing fat, and downing scrambled eggs with the rest of us on Saturday mornings. She'd be fatter, and probably taller.
I am trying so hard to maintain a positive outlook on this. Her development, for those of you wondering, is right on track. I know because I have another one and I've been reading.
Anyway, ok, so to change the subject precipitously: in my 6th and middle-high band classes I'm missing very important sections that are hardily represented in any self-respecting concert band score. The sixth grade class is missing low brass--let's be honest, any kind of brass except for trumpets. The middle-high band is missing saxophones and French horns, and forget anything oblong and pitched low, such as a bassoon or bass clarinet.
So when I go to the files to look at music, I always have to keep this in mind: Are all the parts covered? For example, is the main melody covered by enough instruments at all times that I a) have and b) the kids can play? (The flute players are a little weak this year.) I look at harmonies and countermelodies: are they covered? Are the notes too high for the semi-cooked beginner clarinet and trumpet players?
We can't play music in the middle-high where only the saxes have the melody for a good chunk. We can't play music in the sixth grade that requires low brass.
It's the same for recipes: I can't make such-and-such for baby sister because it has milk or eggs in it, so is there another recipe where all the parts can be covered, so to speak, with alternate ingredients such as rice milk, applesauce, or another alternative? And now, wheat. What doesn't have wheat in it??
It begins to feel like a jigsaw puzzle after a while, with many strategic pieces missing. The challenge is to find a workable solution within the parameters I have. And would a workable solution lead me to answers I hadn't thought of before, or force me to be creative? Better yet, force the students to be creative?
Sometimes it makes me want to sit down and feel overwhelmed. But I'm not in this business of band-teaching and child-rearing to stay overwhelmed for long; my logical mind wants to come up with a solution.
I'll keep you posted.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Monday, October 27, 2008
Giving Rossini a gallop for his money
Holy cow. I had to really keep from smiling with delight in class today because my middle-high band sounded so good.
It's a little disconcerting when I get to 1:30 in the afternoon, because after struggling with raw beginners (5th grade) and semi-cooked beginners (6th grade) I expect my bands to continue to sound like, well, beginners.
But as soon as my middle-high band warms up, I know I'm dealing with a whole different level.
Not so much of behavior, but of sound, and level of ability.
Right now we are working on a "young band" (which is a euphemism for semi-cooked beginner players) version of Gioacchino Rossini's William Tell Overture.
I've played this piece in all its original orchestral glory, and it begins with a tone poem--a soundscape imitating nature or other sounds--in this case, a thunderstorm with a heartbreaking cello solo. Only when the storm is over does the piece launch into the familiar strains of the "Lone Ranger" theme.
Well, the kids have been working, well, not exactly very hard, but enough that the piece is starting to sound good, all 65 measures of it. Our version begins with a trumpet fanfare to which low brass and snare are added for a final enthusiastic note before the clarinets take up the main theme.
Kids have to count measures rest. They have to watch me for their entrances, which I make great show of penciling into my music as a way of modeling what they should do. They've never had to do that before, it's all been unison.
The clarinets are then joined by the flutes and trumpets, who afterwards take off with the secondary theme. The snares pretty much have the same rhythm throughout the piece except for the end, when, tacked onto a short piece such as this is an ending worthy of any fifties Hollywood western. Everyone has to observe the same rests and if anyone plays on the rest, well, I stop and make them do it again.
When I hold them to a high standard, they meet it.
I would say 80% of the notes are correct, and none of the subtle things that make a jumble of notes into true music, but the fact that we are this far along with one of our concert pieces 6 1/2 weeks out is a triumph. We are going to need all the rest of that time to work up our other stuff.
Hi ho, Silver, and away!
It's a little disconcerting when I get to 1:30 in the afternoon, because after struggling with raw beginners (5th grade) and semi-cooked beginners (6th grade) I expect my bands to continue to sound like, well, beginners.
But as soon as my middle-high band warms up, I know I'm dealing with a whole different level.
Not so much of behavior, but of sound, and level of ability.
Right now we are working on a "young band" (which is a euphemism for semi-cooked beginner players) version of Gioacchino Rossini's William Tell Overture.
I've played this piece in all its original orchestral glory, and it begins with a tone poem--a soundscape imitating nature or other sounds--in this case, a thunderstorm with a heartbreaking cello solo. Only when the storm is over does the piece launch into the familiar strains of the "Lone Ranger" theme.
Well, the kids have been working, well, not exactly very hard, but enough that the piece is starting to sound good, all 65 measures of it. Our version begins with a trumpet fanfare to which low brass and snare are added for a final enthusiastic note before the clarinets take up the main theme.
Kids have to count measures rest. They have to watch me for their entrances, which I make great show of penciling into my music as a way of modeling what they should do. They've never had to do that before, it's all been unison.
The clarinets are then joined by the flutes and trumpets, who afterwards take off with the secondary theme. The snares pretty much have the same rhythm throughout the piece except for the end, when, tacked onto a short piece such as this is an ending worthy of any fifties Hollywood western. Everyone has to observe the same rests and if anyone plays on the rest, well, I stop and make them do it again.
When I hold them to a high standard, they meet it.
I would say 80% of the notes are correct, and none of the subtle things that make a jumble of notes into true music, but the fact that we are this far along with one of our concert pieces 6 1/2 weeks out is a triumph. We are going to need all the rest of that time to work up our other stuff.
Hi ho, Silver, and away!
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
A band that's got it
Last night I saw a band that's got it, and I mean, got it goin' ON.
I went with the former band director of the aforementioned program to a special chili supper and field show performance last night, and got to see what they do.
We sat high in the stands so we could see, even though there was a cold breeze blowing. First, their middle school band performed. About eighty kiddoes, all different sizes, in white jackets and black trousers setting up their show. They marched onto the field very well; they didn't move much while they were playing but did a fine job playing their music and staying in formation.
My initial thought was, "how the heck do you get all those junior high kids to stand still?" I'll call the band director who invited me Tom, even though that's not his real name, just so I can keep the privacy intact in this blog, and it really doesn't matter anyway. Tom said to me, "look at that one kid wearing white sneakers instead of black shoes, and the girl not holding her flute up straight. I wouldn't have let them march."
I hadn't noticed them up to that point, and it made me realize that Tom knew marching and field shows the way I know--well, the way my husband knows basketball. After thirty years, Tom ought to. He notices the tiny things that an inexpert such as me would not.
"It's about pride," he said, kind of offhandedly, but man, did that sink in to my skull. Pride.
Pride.
Next came the high school band, and this is what really blew me away. Every single girl and guy in the band did their job, perfectly. The music was quite difficult, selections from Jesus Christ Superstar (I've actually played all of it, as a pit orchestra member for a theater production, and the only point of saying so is that I really do know it's hard) but it was more than that. The way they moved their bodies as they stepped, but kept their instruments pointed front. The fact that every single member had their uniform on straight and the shoes were clean, and the gloves were white.
What impressed me most (again, this is a little rural high school we're talking about) was the drum major, representing the band, took delightful pride in who he was as an entertainer, and when the command came to snap the instruments to play, it was as one movement. No one was late, no one was sloppy.
I'd already seen the zillions of banners in the band room that said "State Championships, Finalist" on them.
At that point I began to get a little panicky in my gut. I thought of my fledgling program, where we're still working on basic skills of playing, much less marching, with virtually no high school kids to speak of. I thought of the kids talking their way through rehearsal and thinking band class ought to be "free time". I thought of my inexperience, both with teaching, and with knowing the things I need to know, that I have no idea that I need to know, such as buying three of the exact same tubas so they're always in tune.
Then I started thinking about where I started, and the progress I've been making, just this week, implementing the breathing exercises that I've been learning how to do at grown-up band. (J, if you're reading this, thank you, it's really doing wonders for their discipline and intonation.)
At the end of the evening Tom and I were talking about the sacrifices he made to keep his program going. He basically didn't get to see his kids grow up.
That was a sobering thought, considering I have kids who are just at the very beginning of their growing-up process, and I want to see them grow all the way up.
Seeing those field shows made me think about the baby steps I could start with. It made me realize that yes, in fact, I do believe I'm on the right track. It made me realize how much easier it is to develop a band program when one does not have a newborn.
It made me think about pride.
And we're going to start talking about pride a lot in our band. Yes, a lot. And I want our t-shirts to say PRIDE on them.
There's nothing I didn't see last night that we couldn't do if we chose to, and nothing I can't learn.
And now I'm realizing that my little program does have it. All the potential in the world.
I went with the former band director of the aforementioned program to a special chili supper and field show performance last night, and got to see what they do.
We sat high in the stands so we could see, even though there was a cold breeze blowing. First, their middle school band performed. About eighty kiddoes, all different sizes, in white jackets and black trousers setting up their show. They marched onto the field very well; they didn't move much while they were playing but did a fine job playing their music and staying in formation.
My initial thought was, "how the heck do you get all those junior high kids to stand still?" I'll call the band director who invited me Tom, even though that's not his real name, just so I can keep the privacy intact in this blog, and it really doesn't matter anyway. Tom said to me, "look at that one kid wearing white sneakers instead of black shoes, and the girl not holding her flute up straight. I wouldn't have let them march."
I hadn't noticed them up to that point, and it made me realize that Tom knew marching and field shows the way I know--well, the way my husband knows basketball. After thirty years, Tom ought to. He notices the tiny things that an inexpert such as me would not.
"It's about pride," he said, kind of offhandedly, but man, did that sink in to my skull. Pride.
Pride.
Next came the high school band, and this is what really blew me away. Every single girl and guy in the band did their job, perfectly. The music was quite difficult, selections from Jesus Christ Superstar (I've actually played all of it, as a pit orchestra member for a theater production, and the only point of saying so is that I really do know it's hard) but it was more than that. The way they moved their bodies as they stepped, but kept their instruments pointed front. The fact that every single member had their uniform on straight and the shoes were clean, and the gloves were white.
What impressed me most (again, this is a little rural high school we're talking about) was the drum major, representing the band, took delightful pride in who he was as an entertainer, and when the command came to snap the instruments to play, it was as one movement. No one was late, no one was sloppy.
I'd already seen the zillions of banners in the band room that said "State Championships, Finalist" on them.
At that point I began to get a little panicky in my gut. I thought of my fledgling program, where we're still working on basic skills of playing, much less marching, with virtually no high school kids to speak of. I thought of the kids talking their way through rehearsal and thinking band class ought to be "free time". I thought of my inexperience, both with teaching, and with knowing the things I need to know, that I have no idea that I need to know, such as buying three of the exact same tubas so they're always in tune.
Then I started thinking about where I started, and the progress I've been making, just this week, implementing the breathing exercises that I've been learning how to do at grown-up band. (J, if you're reading this, thank you, it's really doing wonders for their discipline and intonation.)
At the end of the evening Tom and I were talking about the sacrifices he made to keep his program going. He basically didn't get to see his kids grow up.
That was a sobering thought, considering I have kids who are just at the very beginning of their growing-up process, and I want to see them grow all the way up.
Seeing those field shows made me think about the baby steps I could start with. It made me realize that yes, in fact, I do believe I'm on the right track. It made me realize how much easier it is to develop a band program when one does not have a newborn.
It made me think about pride.
And we're going to start talking about pride a lot in our band. Yes, a lot. And I want our t-shirts to say PRIDE on them.
There's nothing I didn't see last night that we couldn't do if we chose to, and nothing I can't learn.
And now I'm realizing that my little program does have it. All the potential in the world.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Music in the car
On the way up to Longmont today, the under 3 set and I listened to the following:
Cars soundtrack. Cars is such a good movie on so many levels, that I have watched it approximately forty-seven times and I am not tired of it. A large part of that is because of the music. The only good song Rascal Flatts has put out is on the album, a remake of "Life is a Highway." Brad Paisley contributes two songs, both inimitably his breezy, slightly humorous style as well as highly singable. An oldie from Hank Williams is there, along with Chuck Berry's famous Route 66 song, which we can all get our kicks to. Even the music composed especially for the film is fun to listen to, particularly the song that plays when Lightning and Sally go on their first real date, I mean, drive, and she shows him Route 66's former glory.
Dr. Seuss and the Cat in the Hat's songbook, beginning with McGrew's Zoo. The narration is wonderful (I love "cute old man" voices), and if you've read the book you can picture the strange beasts in your mind. The rest of the album consists of songs with funny, Seuss-y lyrics sung by a mixed choir accompanied by piano. The songs are ok but the musical style starts to feel dated after a while and then midway through the cd, especially in a long flat stretch of highway, you think you might drive off the road if you don't change the cd NOW.
A major disappointment occurred next when I discovered that Sergei Prokofiev's Peter and the Wolf narrated by David Bowie was not in its proper case. Andrew loves Peter and the Wolf. The first time we listened to it, we were driving home from school. It was one of Chloe's first days at the daycare and she conked out immediately because she was so tired, but Andrew sat quietly in the back listening intently--until the moment when the wolf snatches up the duck and swallows her whole. (Sorry to give a major plot point away, but there it is.) It is a rather sudden musical moment, preceded by a lot of tremolo sneaking up on the duck by the wiley wolf that lulls you into a sense of mild anticipation. When the strings screech their fortissimo protest all of a sudden, you find yourself thinking, that wasn't supposed to happen! Up until this moment in the music Andrew was perfectly silent, and afterward, the event seemed to make such an impression on him that he talked about it even while Peter was catching the wolf by the tail. The music is unparalleled in its delightfulness and perfect use of leitmotifs, so I was really looking forward to listening to it again while driving through the mountains. But to my dismay I discovered that not only was the Peter and the Wolf cd not there, but that The Greatest Hits by ELO was sitting in its place.
I switched tactics altogether and put in Talking Timbuktu by Ali Farka Toure and Ry Cooder. The reason I originally purchased the cd is because there is a song on it that is used every day by the Public Radio International program The World to introduce its Geoquiz segment. The song is haunting and catchy, and I wanted to hear all of it. I was reminded again today of how much I like African music, even contemporary music composed by an African--Malian in this case--musician who has clearly heard many western influences. According to amazon.com, the album illustrates the connection between African music and the blues without intending to. Listening to it today I was struck by how similar some of the rhythms were to the Blues, with its heavy emphasis on beats 2 and 4. And I just love the sound of the guitars on this album, slide, electric and acoustic, accompanied by hand drums.
We were almost at the tricky part, the freeway driving, and I decided to put in Alison Krauss's latest, a collection of all her unreleased and random songs from here and there, including her duet with Brad Paisley, Whiskey Lullaby, and the foot-stompin' Sawin' on a String that she performed at the Country Music Awards long ago that we put on our tivo and never took off. I think the album is a little mixed; some of the songs are so familiar that they don't resonate like the new songs, and some are so sad as to almost be un-listenable. My favorite happens to be 100 Miles or More, the song which gives the album its name. The verses of the song seem to wander and it's almost like jazz the way she sings the words so separately from the beat, but then at the chorus the words and melody and beat slide together perfectly.
By the time Alison was almost done, we were there, and now the wee ones are upstairs listening to a cd that is a bedtime favorite of the under 3 we are visiting, acapella Pawnee songs that occasionally surprise the listener by breaking into English.
When we get home, my first goal is to find that Peter and the Wolf cd.
Cars soundtrack. Cars is such a good movie on so many levels, that I have watched it approximately forty-seven times and I am not tired of it. A large part of that is because of the music. The only good song Rascal Flatts has put out is on the album, a remake of "Life is a Highway." Brad Paisley contributes two songs, both inimitably his breezy, slightly humorous style as well as highly singable. An oldie from Hank Williams is there, along with Chuck Berry's famous Route 66 song, which we can all get our kicks to. Even the music composed especially for the film is fun to listen to, particularly the song that plays when Lightning and Sally go on their first real date, I mean, drive, and she shows him Route 66's former glory.
Dr. Seuss and the Cat in the Hat's songbook, beginning with McGrew's Zoo. The narration is wonderful (I love "cute old man" voices), and if you've read the book you can picture the strange beasts in your mind. The rest of the album consists of songs with funny, Seuss-y lyrics sung by a mixed choir accompanied by piano. The songs are ok but the musical style starts to feel dated after a while and then midway through the cd, especially in a long flat stretch of highway, you think you might drive off the road if you don't change the cd NOW.
A major disappointment occurred next when I discovered that Sergei Prokofiev's Peter and the Wolf narrated by David Bowie was not in its proper case. Andrew loves Peter and the Wolf. The first time we listened to it, we were driving home from school. It was one of Chloe's first days at the daycare and she conked out immediately because she was so tired, but Andrew sat quietly in the back listening intently--until the moment when the wolf snatches up the duck and swallows her whole. (Sorry to give a major plot point away, but there it is.) It is a rather sudden musical moment, preceded by a lot of tremolo sneaking up on the duck by the wiley wolf that lulls you into a sense of mild anticipation. When the strings screech their fortissimo protest all of a sudden, you find yourself thinking, that wasn't supposed to happen! Up until this moment in the music Andrew was perfectly silent, and afterward, the event seemed to make such an impression on him that he talked about it even while Peter was catching the wolf by the tail. The music is unparalleled in its delightfulness and perfect use of leitmotifs, so I was really looking forward to listening to it again while driving through the mountains. But to my dismay I discovered that not only was the Peter and the Wolf cd not there, but that The Greatest Hits by ELO was sitting in its place.
I switched tactics altogether and put in Talking Timbuktu by Ali Farka Toure and Ry Cooder. The reason I originally purchased the cd is because there is a song on it that is used every day by the Public Radio International program The World to introduce its Geoquiz segment. The song is haunting and catchy, and I wanted to hear all of it. I was reminded again today of how much I like African music, even contemporary music composed by an African--Malian in this case--musician who has clearly heard many western influences. According to amazon.com, the album illustrates the connection between African music and the blues without intending to. Listening to it today I was struck by how similar some of the rhythms were to the Blues, with its heavy emphasis on beats 2 and 4. And I just love the sound of the guitars on this album, slide, electric and acoustic, accompanied by hand drums.
We were almost at the tricky part, the freeway driving, and I decided to put in Alison Krauss's latest, a collection of all her unreleased and random songs from here and there, including her duet with Brad Paisley, Whiskey Lullaby, and the foot-stompin' Sawin' on a String that she performed at the Country Music Awards long ago that we put on our tivo and never took off. I think the album is a little mixed; some of the songs are so familiar that they don't resonate like the new songs, and some are so sad as to almost be un-listenable. My favorite happens to be 100 Miles or More, the song which gives the album its name. The verses of the song seem to wander and it's almost like jazz the way she sings the words so separately from the beat, but then at the chorus the words and melody and beat slide together perfectly.
By the time Alison was almost done, we were there, and now the wee ones are upstairs listening to a cd that is a bedtime favorite of the under 3 we are visiting, acapella Pawnee songs that occasionally surprise the listener by breaking into English.
When we get home, my first goal is to find that Peter and the Wolf cd.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Done thinking about band for awhile
The last thing I want to do right now is blog about my job, 'cuz I have had my last students til a week from Monday!! Wahoo!! (Not that I don't love them dearly, but we can all use a break from time to time.)
Tonight I get to do Grown-Up Band, and I couldn't be more excited. What an antidote to rowdy kids, the pressure of concerts.
The teenage boys in my alternative performance class (loud rock is what they do) are sitting with their head in their hands because they think they didn't do well because their performance was "sprung" on them. If you consider four weeks' notice springing.
I could just kick their arrogant little butts, but I have to remain professional.
I told them four weeks ago they would play the last day of the quarter for the middle-high students. They probably thought I was kidding. I wasn't kidding two days ago when they were sitting around moaning about not being ready and I said, you guys have to step it up. Maybe it was because I wasn't there for their class yesterday, when I was going to have them move equipment. Maybe because they're just, well, not wanting to ruin their egos with a less than perfect performance.
And it didn't help that the audience was rude and one of the girls in the class with the guys on stage was talking and laughing loudly to her friends the whole time.
Earlier in the day I had my sixth graders perform. They did awesome on their little in-class concert. The room was packed. All the fifth graders came plus administrators and teachers and a bonus of one eighth grade class. It was so cool to have everyone in here for that.
Yesterday right before their class I had to take my 3-year-old home with a fever. His teacher showed up with him to my room and the little boss didn't look very happy. So I left the class in the dubious hands of the students' assistant football coach, who has a rather different relationship with the kids than I do. The room was erupting in high-decibel yelling and drumming and bleating when I left. My poor miha's little face was so worried about that.
Today I got my baton out and everything in honor of their concert. And they did well, all except for the surprise ending of Bingo. It seemed to be a surprise to most of the band members.
Anyway, tonight my husband and I are going to do the Hokey-Pokey with the cars and the kids in town so I can be on time to Grown-up Band. My assistant in the middle-high school class laughed when I told her about Grown-up Band, and she didn't even need an explanation.
Saturday I'm taking some of the middle-high bands students to our local college football game as a reward for doing everything they were supposed to do at our home game last weekend.
As if I haven't had enough!
Tonight I get to do Grown-Up Band, and I couldn't be more excited. What an antidote to rowdy kids, the pressure of concerts.
The teenage boys in my alternative performance class (loud rock is what they do) are sitting with their head in their hands because they think they didn't do well because their performance was "sprung" on them. If you consider four weeks' notice springing.
I could just kick their arrogant little butts, but I have to remain professional.
I told them four weeks ago they would play the last day of the quarter for the middle-high students. They probably thought I was kidding. I wasn't kidding two days ago when they were sitting around moaning about not being ready and I said, you guys have to step it up. Maybe it was because I wasn't there for their class yesterday, when I was going to have them move equipment. Maybe because they're just, well, not wanting to ruin their egos with a less than perfect performance.
And it didn't help that the audience was rude and one of the girls in the class with the guys on stage was talking and laughing loudly to her friends the whole time.
Earlier in the day I had my sixth graders perform. They did awesome on their little in-class concert. The room was packed. All the fifth graders came plus administrators and teachers and a bonus of one eighth grade class. It was so cool to have everyone in here for that.
Yesterday right before their class I had to take my 3-year-old home with a fever. His teacher showed up with him to my room and the little boss didn't look very happy. So I left the class in the dubious hands of the students' assistant football coach, who has a rather different relationship with the kids than I do. The room was erupting in high-decibel yelling and drumming and bleating when I left. My poor miha's little face was so worried about that.
Today I got my baton out and everything in honor of their concert. And they did well, all except for the surprise ending of Bingo. It seemed to be a surprise to most of the band members.
Anyway, tonight my husband and I are going to do the Hokey-Pokey with the cars and the kids in town so I can be on time to Grown-up Band. My assistant in the middle-high school class laughed when I told her about Grown-up Band, and she didn't even need an explanation.
Saturday I'm taking some of the middle-high bands students to our local college football game as a reward for doing everything they were supposed to do at our home game last weekend.
As if I haven't had enough!
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
How knitting is like teaching band
I am a knitter, and I love the Yarn Harlot. If you are not familiar with her blog, her books, or her knitting, I invite you to check out all three, and if you're not really a knitter, perhaps you know one, or someone in the arts, and could appreciate this recent post.
In honor of the Yarn Harlot, who is currently in Seattle where things turn green in the winter and brown in the summer (as a former Portland resident I totally get this), I would like to humbly attempt to knit knitting and teaching band together.
Top ten reasons why knitting is just like teaching band:
10. If you don't keep busy doing it every moment you can, you tend to get a little rusty.
9. You never know what you're going to get when you combine unknown elements together, say, a terra-cotta worsted single-ply and a variegated cream and purple fingering weight; or, say, a sweet quiet girl who suddenly learned she really could play the drums, and a girl with no top teeth who can play the heck out of a clarinet.
8. Sometimes you just go round and round in circles.
7. The feelings of start-itis are about the same. Itching to delve into the music library/stash boxes and get started.
6. Problem-solving is a must. Today I fixed a saxophone spring, a clarinet pad, and pulled a trombone mouthpiece, and tonight after the kids are in bed I will probably figure out how to fix a loose gauge on a dishcloth and whether I can change yarns on a sweater front when I get to the shawl collar.
5. Finishing is a chore. I can knit a lovely project and sit with it for months because I don't want to sew the thing together. You can hammer a piece to death trying to get the last few elements perfect, but eventually you just have to perform it and let go.
4. Sometimes there's nothing else to do but frog it and start over.
3. A really nice piece of knitting feels good every which way around--pleasant in your hands, easy to work with, lovely to look at. Same with a good band.
2. That feeling of satisfaction when you finish a project or do the concert.
1. If you don't keep on top of your knitting/your middle-school band, it tends to unravel.
In honor of the Yarn Harlot, who is currently in Seattle where things turn green in the winter and brown in the summer (as a former Portland resident I totally get this), I would like to humbly attempt to knit knitting and teaching band together.
Top ten reasons why knitting is just like teaching band:
10. If you don't keep busy doing it every moment you can, you tend to get a little rusty.
9. You never know what you're going to get when you combine unknown elements together, say, a terra-cotta worsted single-ply and a variegated cream and purple fingering weight; or, say, a sweet quiet girl who suddenly learned she really could play the drums, and a girl with no top teeth who can play the heck out of a clarinet.
8. Sometimes you just go round and round in circles.
7. The feelings of start-itis are about the same. Itching to delve into the music library/stash boxes and get started.
6. Problem-solving is a must. Today I fixed a saxophone spring, a clarinet pad, and pulled a trombone mouthpiece, and tonight after the kids are in bed I will probably figure out how to fix a loose gauge on a dishcloth and whether I can change yarns on a sweater front when I get to the shawl collar.
5. Finishing is a chore. I can knit a lovely project and sit with it for months because I don't want to sew the thing together. You can hammer a piece to death trying to get the last few elements perfect, but eventually you just have to perform it and let go.
4. Sometimes there's nothing else to do but frog it and start over.
3. A really nice piece of knitting feels good every which way around--pleasant in your hands, easy to work with, lovely to look at. Same with a good band.
2. That feeling of satisfaction when you finish a project or do the concert.
1. If you don't keep on top of your knitting/your middle-school band, it tends to unravel.
Heavy heart
I wrote two kids up today. I hate doing that. It makes me feel icky and bleah inside.
The reason was for Disruption of the Education Process, or DEP for short. Whatever. Unfortunately, though, they did it.
The reason I feel particularly icky about it is because of this.
Kid #1: He lost his dad several years ago and recently lost his mom in a car accident. (She was born three months after I was.) While I hate to let a kid get away with bad behavior because of personal things, sometimes it's hard for me to separate the behavior from the kid. It's a total package.
I'm a contextualist, even in my former life as an art person. Now my works of art are kids, and I try to understand them in their proper context. Still doesn't excuse me having to wait for them to get with the program and take valuable time which would otherwise be spent in good solid rehearsal.
Still.
Kid #2: This kid has been at the football games and enthusiastically played the cymbals. His behavior is otherwise ok in class, but the last few days he's testing the rules, maybe because he's being a space cadet? Don't know. Hated to do it to him, too, but had to.
And now I'm beginning to think that my 8th graders think they're immune because one of them is consistently bringing gum to class and another one has started talking to her neighbor, right under my nose, not even whispering.
I'll happily remind them that they were just like the 7th graders last year, because, well, they were 7th graders.
And I'm definitely having to tighten up the rules because it's such a large group.
It's not as fun as it used to be. I like being able to joke with my students. But if I do that, they think that all the rules go out the window.
So I had to do the referrals today, and I take it personally.
'Scuse me while I laugh ironically at the thought that these referrals might possibly upset me more than the kids.
The reason was for Disruption of the Education Process, or DEP for short. Whatever. Unfortunately, though, they did it.
The reason I feel particularly icky about it is because of this.
Kid #1: He lost his dad several years ago and recently lost his mom in a car accident. (She was born three months after I was.) While I hate to let a kid get away with bad behavior because of personal things, sometimes it's hard for me to separate the behavior from the kid. It's a total package.
I'm a contextualist, even in my former life as an art person. Now my works of art are kids, and I try to understand them in their proper context. Still doesn't excuse me having to wait for them to get with the program and take valuable time which would otherwise be spent in good solid rehearsal.
Still.
Kid #2: This kid has been at the football games and enthusiastically played the cymbals. His behavior is otherwise ok in class, but the last few days he's testing the rules, maybe because he's being a space cadet? Don't know. Hated to do it to him, too, but had to.
And now I'm beginning to think that my 8th graders think they're immune because one of them is consistently bringing gum to class and another one has started talking to her neighbor, right under my nose, not even whispering.
I'll happily remind them that they were just like the 7th graders last year, because, well, they were 7th graders.
And I'm definitely having to tighten up the rules because it's such a large group.
It's not as fun as it used to be. I like being able to joke with my students. But if I do that, they think that all the rules go out the window.
So I had to do the referrals today, and I take it personally.
'Scuse me while I laugh ironically at the thought that these referrals might possibly upset me more than the kids.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Cute band teacher top
So today I decided to take a little bit of a risk and wear a cute pink top with lace on the front to school today. It totally backfired, because one of my fifth grade students wore The Exact Same Top!! How humiliating!
In case you're wondering whether this has anything to do with being a band teacher, it does, really.
Why should language arts teachers and social studies teachers have a monopoly on cute tops? There is absolutely no law that says female band teachers have to dress dowdily because they might be single and have ten cats, or married and have two small children that are constantly sliming you with snot and crushing cheerioes down your front.
Male band teachers have it made. They can wear the same starched white button-down shirt and khaki pants year-round. It makes no difference what climate they live in or what season it is. I've never seen a male band director wear anything different, unless it was a navy blue pair of pants.
With the deepest regret and sorrow imaginable, I will tell you that I've had to completely give up on cute, high-heeled shoes. (Shut up, I might cry.)
In my former life as a young single urban professional (only one cat), I had a closetful of cute shoes, any pair of which I would happily take as my One Thing to a desert island.
There were the brown suede ankle boots with the lace up backs and the wooden heels that made an authoritative clack on a gallery floor.
And the pair of black and red pumps with an ankle strap that made me feel like a million bucks even though I bought them for twenty dollars at Nordstrom's Rack.
I had a pair of berry-red Mary Janes, with three-inch round heels in black. No wait, I still own those, although I haven't been able to wear them for five years because my feet gained a size after I had my first baby. I cannot make myself give them away because I love them that much. I still keep them in the lineup as if I could still wear them. Those shoes are the bomb...
Anyway, getting back to the clothing. When I moved out to the country and got married, I noticed that not a lot of women wore high-heeled shoes, in fact, they were wearing very practical clothing like pants and jeans and boots. Shoes with heels don't walk over the dirt very well.
After I started teaching, I wore high heels a couple of times. That didn't work out very well. Being a band teacher means you're on your feet a lot. Pretty much all class period, every class period. Furthermore, before rehearsal starts you are solving problems like not having music, needing reeds, and questions about upcoming events that students would get to ask when the entire group sits down so everyone can hear, so you have to rush around in a frenzy. Wearing high heels or shoes with cute but pinchy toes isn't really conducive to that.
So I gave up the shoes in favor of comfortable flats. Unfortunately I have far less success in the shoe store--of which we have approximately one in my rural milieu--judging whether or not flats will look good on me. Because, as one ex-boyfriend gleefully pointed out, I have kind of heavy calves, and we all know, at least those of us that are ladies, that a) boyfriends who say things like that should be dumped immediately, and b) high heels make your legs and ankles look slimmer.
But cute tops, getting back to the subject of this post, are not outside the realm of possibility for a youngish band teacher wanting to look her best every day and not like the stereotypical band teacher/working mom, and I'm just so depressed that a fifth grader had the exact same top on today.
What does that say about my taste anymore???
In case you're wondering whether this has anything to do with being a band teacher, it does, really.
Why should language arts teachers and social studies teachers have a monopoly on cute tops? There is absolutely no law that says female band teachers have to dress dowdily because they might be single and have ten cats, or married and have two small children that are constantly sliming you with snot and crushing cheerioes down your front.
Male band teachers have it made. They can wear the same starched white button-down shirt and khaki pants year-round. It makes no difference what climate they live in or what season it is. I've never seen a male band director wear anything different, unless it was a navy blue pair of pants.
With the deepest regret and sorrow imaginable, I will tell you that I've had to completely give up on cute, high-heeled shoes. (Shut up, I might cry.)
In my former life as a young single urban professional (only one cat), I had a closetful of cute shoes, any pair of which I would happily take as my One Thing to a desert island.
There were the brown suede ankle boots with the lace up backs and the wooden heels that made an authoritative clack on a gallery floor.
And the pair of black and red pumps with an ankle strap that made me feel like a million bucks even though I bought them for twenty dollars at Nordstrom's Rack.
I had a pair of berry-red Mary Janes, with three-inch round heels in black. No wait, I still own those, although I haven't been able to wear them for five years because my feet gained a size after I had my first baby. I cannot make myself give them away because I love them that much. I still keep them in the lineup as if I could still wear them. Those shoes are the bomb...
Anyway, getting back to the clothing. When I moved out to the country and got married, I noticed that not a lot of women wore high-heeled shoes, in fact, they were wearing very practical clothing like pants and jeans and boots. Shoes with heels don't walk over the dirt very well.
After I started teaching, I wore high heels a couple of times. That didn't work out very well. Being a band teacher means you're on your feet a lot. Pretty much all class period, every class period. Furthermore, before rehearsal starts you are solving problems like not having music, needing reeds, and questions about upcoming events that students would get to ask when the entire group sits down so everyone can hear, so you have to rush around in a frenzy. Wearing high heels or shoes with cute but pinchy toes isn't really conducive to that.
So I gave up the shoes in favor of comfortable flats. Unfortunately I have far less success in the shoe store--of which we have approximately one in my rural milieu--judging whether or not flats will look good on me. Because, as one ex-boyfriend gleefully pointed out, I have kind of heavy calves, and we all know, at least those of us that are ladies, that a) boyfriends who say things like that should be dumped immediately, and b) high heels make your legs and ankles look slimmer.
But cute tops, getting back to the subject of this post, are not outside the realm of possibility for a youngish band teacher wanting to look her best every day and not like the stereotypical band teacher/working mom, and I'm just so depressed that a fifth grader had the exact same top on today.
What does that say about my taste anymore???
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Getting my head out of the sand
It feels like I've had my head in the sand the last week or two. I haven't done much blogging about my job, because I've been so busy doing my job. I have been solving problems and stressing out. And, to top it all off, our home internet is down and the phone company are being turds. (Or is it, "is being a turd?") This prevents me from blogging at home after the kids are in bed provided my eyes are still open.
Here, in chronological order as they occur during the day, are the updates to all of my classes.
1st Hour: Seniors and juniors sailing along just fine on their independent music studies. My gum-chewing flute player thinks that doing grown-up band with me is a good idea. I agree, however she will probably not be allowed to chew gum at grown-up band.
2nd Hour: The fifth graders are remarkably well-behaved for kids that just got instruments to play. Which is to say that every moment with them with instruments in their hands is a challenge for me to keep them quiet, focused, and learning. But by hook or by crook, we have managed to learn a couple of notes despite all the talking and squirming and banging on drums and blasting trombone notes and questions and problems and anxiety and wanting to know if they can go to the bathroom and not lining up and being seventeen minutes late for their next class because they'd rather play with the saxophone than put it away and go do something boring like check out books.
3rd Hour: My choir-class-that-turned-into-independent-music-studies-class is also going fairly well, despite a recent downturn in mood in the room during this hour due to one of the students learning to play Barber's Adagio for Strings on the piano. If you have never heard Adagio for Strings, you should only listen to it in the bleakest part of winter when you need a good cry and have a couple of hours to spare, and a bottle of cheap gin would help too, because that's really the only way you can genuinely appreciate the stark raving sadness of this piece. It even makes me feel sad to think about a piece for fifty-seven violin, viola, cello and bass players being distilled down into a few piano notes.
4th Hour: The sixth graders are getting ready for their first quarter concert. Which is to say, they are getting ready to play songs out of their method book for a few staff members who have graciously agreed to stop by and listen. We will do our best to create a concert atmosphere with our behavior, a program (complete with skill sets for each song tied to district standards and benchmarks--hopefully that'll impress my boss, and why does it seem like I have so much extra time this year...oh, I'm not breast-pumping or nursing three times a day), and even, if I have my act together, cookies and tea.
5th Hour: LOUD. I've taken to bringing my work to a little desk outside my room and people walk by and say, Miss, are you in trouble???
6th Hour: Hokay. This is the class that made me cry two days in a row as soon as they left the room. The second day, I hunched over in a toilet stall (why is it that when we need a cry, women always choose the most disgusting place to do it--maybe it's because only by wallowing this low we realize that it's silly and then pull ourselves together and roll heads or whatever) and thought, dammit, this is the last day I cry.
I ran into another teacher in the hall and something she said really resonated with me: She said, I get mad, then I get even.
I thought, I'm pretty good at the getting mad part, but not so good at the getting even. So I made up a spreadsheet with all kids' names on it, and listed the bad behavior at the top.
Every time I saw students not paying attention while I was talking (nearly all), not being ready when I wanted to start playing (almost nearly all) and talking when they weren't supposed to be (all) I'd start going down my list and marking off students exhibiting that behavior. I'd stop class and cheerfully call out that student's behavior and then make a big show of hunting for their name--mostly it wasn't a show because I was so nervous that I forgot the students' last names. Usually the students would get quiet, and I'd go on.
After a few times of this, one girl asked, Miss, what are you doing? Oh, I cheerfully replied. I'm just documenting behavior for referrals.
That shut them up. Long enough to sight read the William Tell Overture (an arrangement, mind you) twice. Except technically the second time isn't sight-reading. And they did SO well. I wish someone would tatto "effort = success" on the backs of their arms. Because the effort really does result in success.
I may have said I was doing all of this cheerfully, because I am so determined to just stop getting mad, and go straight on to getting even. I hate writing referrals because it, well, it's so depressing; on the other hand, I'm not the one that needs to be crying after class.
It's time for these students to ask themselves, is it worth it to not pay attention and show some effort in band class?
The other coincidentally behavior-changing event that happened is our new homework policy kicked in. Right at the end of yesterday's class my boss came in to hand out the homework referrals, that basically say, kiddo, you go to the after-school homework program to get your stuff done or you're toast.
I'd done a number of these for kids who I think are struggling in band and therefore don't pay attention, and they are required to meet with me this coming Monday afternoon for some extra help. I did this because in a group that size, it's impossible, even in sectionals, to give every student some individual attention. Not only did the homework referrals help wake them up to their behavior, but I'm getting the idea--after I explained til I was blue in the face that it was not 'cause I think they're bad but because I want to give them extra help--that they now realize I care about them.
Huh.
Here, in chronological order as they occur during the day, are the updates to all of my classes.
1st Hour: Seniors and juniors sailing along just fine on their independent music studies. My gum-chewing flute player thinks that doing grown-up band with me is a good idea. I agree, however she will probably not be allowed to chew gum at grown-up band.
2nd Hour: The fifth graders are remarkably well-behaved for kids that just got instruments to play. Which is to say that every moment with them with instruments in their hands is a challenge for me to keep them quiet, focused, and learning. But by hook or by crook, we have managed to learn a couple of notes despite all the talking and squirming and banging on drums and blasting trombone notes and questions and problems and anxiety and wanting to know if they can go to the bathroom and not lining up and being seventeen minutes late for their next class because they'd rather play with the saxophone than put it away and go do something boring like check out books.
3rd Hour: My choir-class-that-turned-into-independent-music-studies-class is also going fairly well, despite a recent downturn in mood in the room during this hour due to one of the students learning to play Barber's Adagio for Strings on the piano. If you have never heard Adagio for Strings, you should only listen to it in the bleakest part of winter when you need a good cry and have a couple of hours to spare, and a bottle of cheap gin would help too, because that's really the only way you can genuinely appreciate the stark raving sadness of this piece. It even makes me feel sad to think about a piece for fifty-seven violin, viola, cello and bass players being distilled down into a few piano notes.
4th Hour: The sixth graders are getting ready for their first quarter concert. Which is to say, they are getting ready to play songs out of their method book for a few staff members who have graciously agreed to stop by and listen. We will do our best to create a concert atmosphere with our behavior, a program (complete with skill sets for each song tied to district standards and benchmarks--hopefully that'll impress my boss, and why does it seem like I have so much extra time this year...oh, I'm not breast-pumping or nursing three times a day), and even, if I have my act together, cookies and tea.
5th Hour: LOUD. I've taken to bringing my work to a little desk outside my room and people walk by and say, Miss, are you in trouble???
6th Hour: Hokay. This is the class that made me cry two days in a row as soon as they left the room. The second day, I hunched over in a toilet stall (why is it that when we need a cry, women always choose the most disgusting place to do it--maybe it's because only by wallowing this low we realize that it's silly and then pull ourselves together and roll heads or whatever) and thought, dammit, this is the last day I cry.
I ran into another teacher in the hall and something she said really resonated with me: She said, I get mad, then I get even.
I thought, I'm pretty good at the getting mad part, but not so good at the getting even. So I made up a spreadsheet with all kids' names on it, and listed the bad behavior at the top.
Every time I saw students not paying attention while I was talking (nearly all), not being ready when I wanted to start playing (almost nearly all) and talking when they weren't supposed to be (all) I'd start going down my list and marking off students exhibiting that behavior. I'd stop class and cheerfully call out that student's behavior and then make a big show of hunting for their name--mostly it wasn't a show because I was so nervous that I forgot the students' last names. Usually the students would get quiet, and I'd go on.
After a few times of this, one girl asked, Miss, what are you doing? Oh, I cheerfully replied. I'm just documenting behavior for referrals.
That shut them up. Long enough to sight read the William Tell Overture (an arrangement, mind you) twice. Except technically the second time isn't sight-reading. And they did SO well. I wish someone would tatto "effort = success" on the backs of their arms. Because the effort really does result in success.
I may have said I was doing all of this cheerfully, because I am so determined to just stop getting mad, and go straight on to getting even. I hate writing referrals because it, well, it's so depressing; on the other hand, I'm not the one that needs to be crying after class.
It's time for these students to ask themselves, is it worth it to not pay attention and show some effort in band class?
The other coincidentally behavior-changing event that happened is our new homework policy kicked in. Right at the end of yesterday's class my boss came in to hand out the homework referrals, that basically say, kiddo, you go to the after-school homework program to get your stuff done or you're toast.
I'd done a number of these for kids who I think are struggling in band and therefore don't pay attention, and they are required to meet with me this coming Monday afternoon for some extra help. I did this because in a group that size, it's impossible, even in sectionals, to give every student some individual attention. Not only did the homework referrals help wake them up to their behavior, but I'm getting the idea--after I explained til I was blue in the face that it was not 'cause I think they're bad but because I want to give them extra help--that they now realize I care about them.
Huh.
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