giving up

5/19/99

I was pissy last night. I decided to type out that memory instead of dealing with my day. Focused on teaching. Obsessed with teaching. Are my kids worthy of this attention?

I had to clench my fists Monday when Heather refused to play lip slurs. "I just ...can't play that...high...." Whine whine whine. I wanted to say, "Look. You won't practice the music I give you. You hate duets. You hate to sightread. What the HELL do you WANT to play?" Why does she do this?

GAAH! I was the same way at her age. This is what makes me most uncomfortable. When she's in a good mood she's one of my favorite students. In a bad mood--I dredge up and replay the horrid lessons I had in high school, when I did the same exact thing.

I lectured Heather that night on pushing the envelope. (I rarely lecture. But what was I supposed to do, when she wouldn't play????) As players, we need to push past the limits of what we can do in order to gain higher levels of skill. We won't improve by doing what we can already do. Sure, it sounds bad at first. You think you're the only person to ever sound bad when playing loud?

In Crooked Little Heart, the mother of the 13 year old girl thinks, Having a teenage daughter is punishment for having been a teenage daughter. Having a talented, petulant, insecure student is my punishment for having been the same.

One of my only kids who practices is...ironically...one of the slowest. He can't always tell me what note names are, or what position a note is in. Poor little guy. I love to tease him--it's so much fun to crack his stony face into a metallic braces-grin. His mom makes him practice. I think I've convinced her to bring him to me for a few summer lessons. I might give him actual homework--sheets to fill out with note names and positions. His band directors don't have time to spend with him and he really needs extra help. Mr. Gronda gets frustrated and embarrasses my kid in front of the class, but never takes him aside for tutoring. Half the time, this kid comes to his lessons knowing that he got in trouble but not understanding what he did wrong.

I really want him to stay in music. I'd like to see something snap in his brain and allow him to release himself in the art. Tough reach--he can't even tell me what kind of music he listens to at home. He's one that I'm so sorry to have to leave behind. No college kid/teacher is will have my patience. I've tutored learning disabled children before. These college-age teachers look at their kids with dollar signs in their eyes. Either that, or they want kids who make them look good. All I ask of my kids is that they try to do well for me, and that they enjoy what they do. That's all.

The worst part is yet to come....

I was pissy on the way home (explain that later) so I went to Meijer for toilet paper and ended up buying this handheld electronic Monopoly game. And when the little digital man, "Hot Shot" beat me, snidely refusing to trade Illinois Ave. for Marvin Gardens, I felt the need to kick his ass. Going on 5 straight hours of digital Monopoly, I bankrupted his snotty ass right out of the fucking game. Yah!

I like this game because people don't quit when they're losing. I gained control of the board and ran it right down until I bankrupted every other player. Sadistically played it out until "Connie Cashola" owned nothing but her tattered scraps of panties. And she owes me those, too.

Holly told me she's giving up the euphonium. Well, "taking a year off"--but we all know what that means, especially when that year is your first year of college. In the lsat six months she's gone from majoring in music, planning to play professionally, to majoring elsewhere and continuing to study and perform, to this. What she said: "I haven't practiced in the last three weeks, and it feels good."

God DAMN her. She told me last night because last night was her last lesson. She told me that last night, too. I listened to her muddle through an unprepared Bordogni etude, then we read duets for 20 minutes. I had these desperate thoughts, "Change her mind? Duets are fun...she'll remember...." The duets sucked. She was bored out of her mind.

We walked out the the parking lot together, doing the "wish you well" shit. Come to think of it, I didn't wish her well. I called John from a pay phone on the outskirts of Charlotte and wept.

I know it's not about me. He told me that and I know it. But I can't help thinking that if he was still her teacher, she wouldn't have given up. I gave him her phone number and he's going to call her today.