November 2006

Three things

November 18, 2006 16:59

1.The first marking quarter is over, and I got my report card today. I'm rather relieved that all went well... Guess who got a 4.822222222 GPA? Whoot!

2.Going to the city tommorrow to do some errands. I think we're stopping at 2:00 in Carnegie Hall to hear Anne-Sophie Mutter. Now tell me why this couldn't occur 2 weeks ago in Chicago with Syd and Colleen?

3. Yay!

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Note to self: Quartet playing with chorus soon....

November 8, 2006 14:32

I don’t know why I joined the school orchestra in fourth grade. Looking back, I admit it was fun at first, and it made you proud to be playing harder pieces than the older grades. But now? It’s just plain tiresome. Hardly anyone practices and you saw away at one measure of quarter notes for 39 minutes in class by imitating the blast of the dreaded chromatic tuner. Not my idea of fun.

The idea of leaving my violin in a room before school and then picking it up at the last bell never thrilled me. However, the approx. 12 extra pounds to lug around and the double locked doors convinced me. It wasn’t too much of a hassle after the first day; You just got used to it.

But then came today. I left my violin in the room and usual and discovered 8th period the orchestra teacher was absent. (Leonard Bernstein’s YP Concerts as opposed to open a strings!) After 9th period, I went to pick up my violin as usual, only to find the chorus teacher standing in front of the locked double doors, swinging a key in her right hand.

“No one is allowed in this room because the teacher is absent.”

It wasn’t like I was going to go rummaging through her desk or anything. I told her that all I needed to do was get my instrument. And what did the teacher say yell?


I almost screamed back at her. (Thank god for self control.) Why the -use your imagination- did she unlock the door this morning and let us leave our instruments there if she wasn’t going to let us pick them up? HELLO? And why yell at me for asking? Hello dear, but I have better things to do on a Wednesday afternoon!

I never knew how upset I could get over a shaped block of wood. I was actually fighting back tears on the bus and followed the pattern of the rain when I got home. I never practice on Saturdays, and I can learn tonight by studying the scores, so it wasn’t the lost practice time. I think it was the tone with which the teacher answered me. I felt like an object, useless and helpless. I had a feeling in my gut that she felt superior to me, and I didn’t like it. Not one bit. There wasn’t anything I could do about it and I decided against further convincing. She was too stubborn and nothing would be accomplished except a stain on my record. Why waste breath on someone like that? But it surprised me how unempathetic she was. It’s not like she taught History or something. She, herself, was a music teacher. Doesn’t she know that some people actually care about their instruments in the twenty-first century? Leaving my violin in an unknown room over night is like letting my brother (imaginary, of course) spend the night at a stranger's house. Doesn't she know? Or care? What would she do if her voice suddenly disappeared one day? Or if I came and stole her Steinway Piano? Would she know how it feels then?

Only carrot cake can revive my spirits now. That and a glass of Bartok.

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Where there's a will, there's a way.

November 1, 2006 14:03

Slacker- n. adj. characterized by slowness, sluggishness, or lack of energy; Lacking in completeness, finish, or perfection
See also, Linda for the past week.

It was probably Halloween. That and the coming of the end of the first marking period. One of the great mysteries of life is why teacher assign projects on the last week of the marking quarter. "I was looking at my grade book and I suddenly realized that we need another grade in the project/test category." What exactly makes this relavation so sudden is beyond me.

With all projects done and Halloween over, I walked home today feeling energized for the first time in three days. During the past three days I had done everything—eaten chicken wings, written about a plastic dinosaur for a French project, read about Daoists, ran into trees, created eye-patch slogans, baked not-carrot-corn-muffins—except touch my violin. Not once in three days have I so much as glanced over to see how he was doing. I felt indifferent the first day, guilty the second, and just plain evil the third. It bothered me to have that sinking feeling in the stomach, so I promised myself that I would put 101% into practicing today. Happy at the thought, I ran to my front door, only to make one of those sudden relavations. Yes, the door was locked as usual. But why were my keys on the wrong side of the door today?

The next half hour was spent with my faithful companions--the screwdriver, the wrench, the huge garden scissor, and the pliers.

I am now sitting quite happily alone in my house. The end.

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