You guys! Vanilla/Ice Cream Face turned six last week! It's so weird...he seems so different from when we started lessons a year ago. I asked him what he did on his birthday, and he told me all about the pet Great Dane they got: how tall it is, what it eats, how it barks. He even crawled around on the floor imitating him.
Then he told me that when you're five, you're crazy. "What are you when you're six?" I asked. He looked at me thoughtfully for a minute before answering, "When you're six, you're...punchy." And he put up his dukes.
"Okay, what are you when you're 32?" I asked. "Are you 32?" responded Vanilla. I nod. He thinks again and looks at my hands. "When you're 32, you're shaky." He looks at my hands again and makes a face. "No, come on, be shakier. Be shakier!"
At the end of his lesson, Vanilla tells me, "You know we didn't really get a Great Dane, right?" I nod and smile, trying not to laugh. "We did get to stay in a hotel, though."
Oh Vanilla. You may be six, but you're still the most hilarious little kid I've ever met.
As an aside, a different kid, the one who played The Snowman for his Dad last Christmas, informed me that his pet frog died. He started telling me very cautiously, as if he wasn't sure whether he wanted to talk about it. But once he got started, he didn't really stop. The long conversation ended with him telling me that his frog is now broken up into pieces, inside a plastic blue easter egg, and buried in the backyard so he can see him any time he wants.
And this is from one day back at work. One day. Fantastic.
Since every post I write about my students is something to the extent of "Stories About the Kids," or "More Stories About the Kids," or "Even More Stories About the Kids," I thought I should try a little harder and get a little more creative. Also, although all the kids have ben great and hilarious lately, tonight's main character is one Vanilla, the 5-year-old. Now, what parent would name their kid Vanilla, you ask? Well, probably no parent. See, Vanilla named himself. You can read about it here in the 4th to last paragraph. But enough about Vanilla for now - I'm gonna save him for last this time. Here's how a couple other kids are doing:
E, age 16, got his license a couple of months ago. It's weird, man. I've known him since he was nine and in 4th grade! And now he's driving. Weirds. Anyhow, today he was practicing a 4 measure section of the song he's working on, going slowly with the metronome and repeating it over and over again to get it right. He was actually doing really well until he stopped suddenly and exclaimed, "How do you do this every day?!" I looked at him. "Do what everyday?" I asked. "Sit here and listen to kids do the same thing every day, over and over again, and do it week after week?" I, of course, started in on a speech on how much I love it and how I love watching how kids learn differently from each other and blah blah blah. After a minute or so, E interrupted me with this: "You're really nerding out right now. Whatever, I could never do it." and kept playing. Fantastic.
D, age 7, tells me all about her day every Thursday. Like, a little too much, probably. Today she talked about eating an apple turnover at school. In complete seriousness, she said to me, "I turned it over, but nothing happened, so I just ate it anyhow." Then, as she was doing some theory work, she meant to write an E but wrote a 5. She laughed, erased it, and wrote another 5. She laughed harder, erased it, and wrote a 3. She then laughed too hard for it to even matter anymore.
L, age 9 (who you can also read about in the above link to Vanilla - she wants to give her sister a high five in her face), is very excited to go to the dentist next week. She thinks the dentist is going to send her to the orthodontist, who will tell her she needs braces. She is so excited to get braces. She says, "I am going to look so cute with braces." She also kept laughing at everything I said and clapping me on the shoulder for some reason.
Okay, are you ready to hear about Vanilla? Here is all the stuff he did and said today (keep in mind this all happened within 30 minutes):
There is a quilt on the wall that shows animals from all over the world, he shows me his favorite fish. He shows me the path that the fish swims, all the way down the river into the ocean. He's very sweet and gentle, and then proclaims, "This fish is going to punch the earth!" He then punches the wall and laughs hysterically.
"Today I made a dinosaur picture. He's the kind with the spiky face. I don't know his name today, but it will change every day. Tomorrow it will be called Benjamin Franklin."
"I had a dream last night about a little girl who got so many presents from Santa Claus!"
He made up his own words to the tune of Dynamite, which is his favorite song. They go: "Reem likes to throw up in the air sometimes. Likes to throw up, she likes to throw up!" Then he switched to his own tune and sang "She throws up like a club throws up!" When I ask him how much throw up is in a club, he tells me "Throw up the size of a million people. And that's a lot!"
Last thing: He called me mommy when he was leaving and his mom tells me that he's been calling everybody Mommy lately. I don't care, I'm still flattered. Thanks, Vanilla!
Throughout this week, I've been feeling a little like pieces of me have fallen through the cracks. I'm not sleeping or eating well. My mind is constantly racing. I actually hallucinated a few stuffed animals and lots of red blobs in my living room yesterday. The other night I had awful dreams about some friends who turned into monsters that ate your skin if you didn't completely cover it with a sheet. I've been depressed about not having the same energy I did when I was 23, the energy to protest all day and night, the energy to fight forever. I thought about how I could just move away from Wisconsin, the state I've come to love so hard. I didn't feel like myself. I wasn't me.
And throughout the week, there was one thing that happened every day to keep me from losing my mind: I got to leave downtown every day by 1 or 2 pm and go to work. My students would come in, and we'd do our piano lessons every day, just like we always do, just like we love to do. They'd come in and be themselves and be hilarious and lovely, and it kept me going. They made me sane. They soothed my mind. They rejuvenated my heart. I have never felt so lucky to get to go to my job and teach.
Dearest Wisconsin teachers - I so hope you get to go back to work soon. I hope you get to have what keeps you going in your lives again. I pray that people will stop standing in your way of doing your job and doing it wonderfully, as you have been this whole time. I know that's where you want to be, and I sincerely hope this is the case very soon. I support you 100% and I cannot wait for you to teach again.
When they announced that Madison schools would be closed tomorrow for a second day in a row, my stomach sank. Schools were closed today due to a massive teacher sick-in, and they will be closed tomorrow as well. For anybody who doesn't know what's happening, have a look here. I've been struggling with my feelings of discomfort because I know that I fully support these teachers and fully disagree with Governor Walker's proposed bill to take away collective bargaining rights of most public sector employees (plus huge pay cuts for teachers). But god, the fact that kids are missing two days of school in a row, and parents are having to scramble to figure out child care, and some parents will have to stay home from their own jobs...it just really bothers me.
But I know why I feel uneasy about the schools closing. And I feel pretty confident that most other teachers feel the same way. No good teacher wants to miss a day of teaching. No good teacher wants their students to be out of school for days. But when you're left with little choice, you do what you have to do. As a good friend of mine, and an amazing public middle school teacher, said today, "I hope that people realize that teachers won't be getting paid today! This isn't a holiday; they're teaching a valuable lesson that you should stand up for what you believe in! I would much rather be in my classroom working with kids than standing in the cold fighting this bill, but it has to be done!"
Today I watched thousands of people march strongly and proudly on the Capitol today, many of whom were children and teenagers. I saw some kids and parents I recognized and my heart swelled with pride. Monday's protest totals reached 2,000 people. Yesterday's reached nearly 15,000. Today there were close to 30,000 people protesting at the Capitol. Yesterday, over 700 students from East High School walked out of school and kept walking the 3 miles up to the Capital to join in the protest and support their teachers. And I can't help but think about what an unbelievable experience this is for those students and any others that attend. How they are learning about politics and history and civil rights and discourse and passion and pride and a million other things. All in the real world, all happening right where they live. I can't help but think this way. You see, I'm a teacher. This is how we think. Every moment can be a teaching moment. Every moment can be a learning moment.
And I feel so proud to watch as other teachers risk their own livelihood to teach these kids about what it means to stand up for what they believe in, to stand up for themselves, and to stand up for their students. Teachers teach, no matter what the circumstances. And for this, teachers, I thank you.
Some pictures and video from the protest on Tuesday, 2/16/2011. Hoping for more tomorrow.
I find that there are certain times during which I feel the most affected by my students. Usually these are times when I'm crabby or tired or losing all faith in humanity or something along those lines. I can always take something from those times: be grateful for what you get to do, be grateful for kids who don't know any better than to be fantastic and awesome all the time, don't sweat the stupid crap that gets you down, there are bigger and better things than crabbiness, etc. It seems like there are certain days when I really need those kids to remind me of these things. The coincidence is very much appreciated at those times.
Then there's a day like today. Everything is fine. Life is nice. Things are great, in fact. I don't really need a reminder of awesomeness. But here they come! These kids, they still affect me so hard. And today, it's not because I need their awesomeness to remind me of all the things listed above. Today is a day where I can just enjoy the hell out of the kids and my job and nothing more, nothing less. Just appreciate.
J, 7 years old, is a newer student. He's extremely serious and genuine and sincere. I'd been playing the song "Dynamite" with the student before him, and asked J if he knew it. He said he didn't but that there was another song he knew. "It's called 'The Snowman' and it's from me and my Dad's favorite movie," he tells me. I know The Snowman very well. When my sister and I were preteens/teens, we got stuck playing The Snowman theme together as a piano/violin duet. It seemed like we played it all the time; at recitals, at the holidays, maybe even in a mall once or twice...for real. It was extremely tedious and I think we both sort of hated it, and still to this day make fun of it. Here it is:
Tonight, however, when J started talking about the same song, I felt my heart melt a bit. He described how, when they begin flying in the movie, his father would pick him up and fly him around the room because his dad loves him so much and loves the song so much. We decide to take a break from the songs he'd been assigned the previous week in order to learn the song for his dad and perform it for him at the end of his lesson. Within about 5 minutes, J has the song down and we practice a duet, me playing the same piano part I once played with Sara. It was the first time I was really able to appreciate the beauty in the song, and at the same time, I got to see how much it meant to a 7 year old and his dad. When we finish playing, J runs to his dad and they embrace and kiss (do non-foreign parents and kids do that? We always did). I take a breath to begin a speech about how he learned the song so quickly despite awkward hand positions and an unexpected lining up of the two different parts and melody vs. harmony, but I hold my tongue just in time. This is probably a moment in which the dad doesn't really need to hear the details about how his son learned it; it's just more important that he played it. And loved it. They just kept hugging.
Yesterday I went to the home of one of my families. S, age 13, has been with me for about 5 years. He's never been that into piano, and has always seemed kind of lethargic. Last week, he had his tonsils and adenoid removed. This week, for the first time in those 5 years, he was smiling and alert during his lesson. His eyes were bright and awake, and he played better than I'd ever heard him play. He made the songs sound exciting, putting in dynamics and way more energy than I'd ever heard from him. At the end, I express my happiness and surprise. He says "I know! I feel so good, it's like...I feel like I'm better at everything." We go on to have a conversation during which he reveals that he's felt tired for his whole life, and for the last few days, feels like he wants to run and play outside, and even read more and sleep less. This kid had never felt wonderful a single day in his life, and all of a sudden, he does. That's magical. Plus, his younger brother offered to make me a grilled cheese sandwich while I was giving lessons! So great!
Besides the heartwarming moments, there have been a couple hilarious times this week. The famous L, age 9 (the same one who kicks her friends in the nuts and spells the F word for her dad in the lobby of the art center), has been challenging herself to give me high fives in the middle of her songs. Like, while she's playing. She makes me ("makes," yeah. Sorry, but I can't not do it) hold out one hand near the keyboard and when she gets to a certain part in the song, she gives me a high five without missing the beat. Now that's talent! Of course, the naughty L has to come out, and she ends up talking about how she wants to give her sister a high five in her face, and how she could also high five somebody's stomach with her fist. Oh man.
I started teaching this 5-year-old, A, in September. Man, he's only 5! His fingers are tiny and his attention span is tinier. Half the time, I feel like it's enough of a challenge just to keep his attention for 30 minutes, let alone teach him anything on the piano. Every week for the past 4 weeks, he comes into the studio and sees the full length mirror on the door as if he's looking at it for the first time ever. He spots his reflection and exclaims, "That guy again!" Since I have no idea whether or not he knows it's really him, I ask "What's his name?" And every week, A answers "That's vanilla!" That's his name, that guy in the mirror. Also, every week, A asks if he can 1) sit on my lap to play piano, 2) sleep under the piano for the night instead of going home, and 3) let his fingers take naps from playing because they're so tired. He also asks what my favorite color is every time he takes a sticker, then picks a sticker of that color. He's so awesome.
M, 8, will be playing "Star Wars" plus one other song at the recital in a week. When I ask him which he wants to play first, he says Star Wars, "because then people will know I'm cool." I try and say something to the extent of how people will think he's cool anyhow, both songs are cool, you can play them in any order and still be cool, blah blah blah, but he stops me to say "People pay more attention to your first song. Then they get bored. I'm sorry, but it's true." He probably has a point.
They've been so earnest and honest and real. They always are. I am feeling it. I am appreciating it. Hugely.
P.S. Recitals are 3 pm on Sunday 1/30/11 at Attic Angels Community. They'll be lovely. You'll hear two versions each of Pumpkin Boogie, Whirling Leaves, and Jazz Blast, as well as songs by Avril Lavigne, Queen, Journey, Green Day, and Beyonce. And others. Like Beethoven and stuff. And there will also be a little ditty we like to call "Banana Split." You don't want to miss this.
Work was so ridiculous today. I don't know if it's because of the short school week or the full moon, but the kids were hilarious today. Usually I can tell ahead of time when days are going to get weird, like the first day it snows, or the last day or school, or that one week in October when they kids had a 4-day weekend right before Halloween. So insane. I don't even know why I bothered to teach that day. During two separate lessons, we just colored for a good 20 minutes. Out of a 30 minute lesson. I even warned the parents and everything, and they practically shoved their kids into my studio, exasperatedly shouting "IT'S FINE, JUST GO," before going next door for a margarita. I mean, I imagine that's where they went.
There are just those days once in awhile when all the kids are a little loopy or crazy or crabby or funny, or all of the above. I love those days. I leave them exhausted and happy and full of stories from the hilarious kids I'm privileged to work with every day. Whether they're being crazy or tired or funny or just themselves, I feel so lucky to get to experience these things. Here's a few of the wonderful moments from today:
S, age 9, comes in and informs me that they did not end up naming their new kitten "Reem," which had previously been a possibility. Instead, it's named Pandora, Panda for short. I tell her I'm not disappointed, but if she gets another cat ever, she should name it "Reem is Great." She half-assedly agrees.
M, age 8, smiles when she plays her Harry Potter music. She sits at the piano and smiles while playing. It's so lovely.
K, age 13. Oh lord. K and I somehow got on the subject of the game Would You Rather. I give him my favorite one: Would you rather have teeth made of sand or hands made of plastic gloves filled with yogurt? Immediately, he chooses yogurt hands. "But how would you do anything?" I ask. "How would you play video games and take out the trash and brush your teeth?" He thinks about it. "Okay, with the sand teeth, could you buy dentures?" he challenges. I tell him no, that's against the rules. He says he'll think about it and let me know. He then inquires as to whether I enjoy other games like this, and I tell him about the game Genia made up in her dream, Gross Food Combinations (name two foods that are fine on their own but gross together). I give him the example of tomatoes and milk, to which he indignantly responds, "No, that's fine! It's just a basic tomato-cream sauce!" I had no idea he was such a gourmet cook! "Well," I answer, "Think about like tomatoes and ice cream." He shakes his head. "Naw, people totally make that. It's fine! It's kind of like a parfait. Although you'd probably call it a BARF-ait, right?" I stare at him, astonished, then immediately make him give me a high five. Tears well up in my eyes and I tell him that this is one of the most hilarious things I've ever heard. I also tell him that he'd get along really well with most of my friends. We laugh and laugh and laugh...
K, age 12, sight-reads a new piece. Right when I'm silently marveling at her intense focus, right in the middle of a complex line of music, she casually says to me, "So, got any plans for Thanksgiving?" She keeps her eyes on the music, her fingers keep playing, and she begins a conversation with me. "Really?" I ask her. She doubles over laughing and exclaims, "I didn't realize what was happening until the words were coming out of my house! NO, my mouth, not my house, my mouth!"
M, age 8 - We play a duet together. And if I do say so myself, we play it fantastically well. Right at the end, I turn to her all excited and say something like "We're so great and awesome!" She busts out laughing and pointing at my face and yells "You've got bug eyes! Your eyes are giant and buggy!" Thanks, M. She also smiles a lot when she plays. You don't even know how magical it is to see a little kid smile while creating her own music.
D, age 7 - I ask her what holiday we're celebrating this week. She answers "Piano." She then looks uncertain, but doesn't say anything else.
N, age 14 - I persuade him to try playing "Thunder Road" by Bruce Springsteen. He gets through the piano solo beautifully and I nearly cry for the second time in 4 hours. I tell him that I'll probably be real emotional if he ends up working on this song. He responds with a smart-assy "Well, I'll see what I can do about it then."
The solo part is right after 5:30.
Oh these kids. I mean, do you get why I go to work early when I'm in a bad mood? I mean, you do understand, don't you, just why I love my job? Wouldn't you?
Sometimes I eat this for dinner: The couscous is from a box... And the tomatoes are from a can. It takes about six minutes to prepare, there's not much nutritional value, and I add exactly zero spices, but man, it's warm and tasty and, as one Lia Carman used to say, "it fills the void."
It isn't often that one has the opportunity to write or say something that will be heard or read by large groups of people, so I feel lucky that my blog has attracted so many readers over the last two years and thank you all for that opportunity. Thanks to all of you who have subscribed and read in the past - your readership means the world to me, and I hope that although I haven't written a lot lately, that you will be patient with me as I break through yet another period of writer's block and start posting pictures of my face, or maybe even some delicious food again someday.
In the meantime, please take a few minutes to read this piece by my friend Jess Haven. Ardita Bilalli, born with spinabifida and now ten years old, is very close to being sent from Madison back to Kosovo to a tiny town with limited electricity and medical care. Please read this story to see what you can do, or maybe even do a little brainstorming in case there's something ELSE you think can do to help. Seriously, everybody can do something. Thank you - even reposting helps so much. Getting people informed is an important and integral step to any kind of activism!
This is a local Madison story, but should be read by people everywhere and anywhere (hey, that's you!). No matter where you are or who you are, you can do something to help. Please read below and get involved in whatever way you can! And thank you for being such wonderful and loyal readers!
xoxo, Reem
My name is Jessica Haven, I'm a social worker and I live in Madison, Wisconsin with my husband and pets. We are aspiring filmmakers with a strong interest in sharing human rights stories with the world. I am not reaching out to you today on my own behalf, but on behalf of a vibrant and kind ten-year-old girl whom I met only a few days ago. Her name is Ardita Bilalli and I read an article about her in a newspaper recently. Ardita has won many life-saving battles after she was born in a war-torn country with a slew of medical problems and now faces one of the biggest and most frightening prospects to date. She and her mother must return to Kosovo where her life and health will be compromised if they cannot get an exception to stay in the US. After reading about her, I made contact through her website to find out how I could help and before I knew it, I was in her living room with the camera rolling as she, her mother and her uncle shared her moving and urgent story.
Ardita was born prematurely in Kosovo during the war in which 16 of her relatives were killed. About one million people from Kosovo were displaced and her mother, Shemsije, was hiding from the paramilitary. Shemsije gave birth to Ardita in a bombed-out school beneath the glow of a light powered by a tractor battery. There was no roof and Shemsije was terrified. Ardita's uncle Gani had moved to the US a few years earlier but could not get any word on his family's well-being back in Kosovo. When he finally did make contact, he learned of his niece who had many medical problems. When Shemsije was able to get medical attention for Ardita, it was discovered that she had myelomeningocele spina bifida. She received daily injections to control infection but doctors could do nothing more as hospitals during the war were gutted and had no equipment.
Gani, Ardita's uncle, applied for help from the Shriners Hospital in Chicago and Ardita and her mother moved to Madison when Ardita was 2 1/2 years old. Upon receiving medical attention at Shriners Hospital, it was learned that Ardita had bladder and kidney problems. She has had nine surgeries in her ten years of life. She also has seizures and wears back, hip and leg braces so she can walk at times. The braces need to be adjusted and repaired as she grows. Ardita also has a shunt that drains excess cerebrospinal fluid from her brain. Her health is currently stable but she needs a daily regimen of medications and catheterizations and frequent medical appointments to keep it that way. She may grow out of her shunt at any time and could require an ambulance trip to the ER if it becomes dislodged.
Ardita's father, Sami, lives in Kosovo and has been denied visas in the US three times. Ardita and her mother have only seen him via the Internet since she was two years old. As Ardita grows, her mother struggles to care for her and lift her and wishes her father could be here to help. Ardita misses him terribly.
Ardita and Shemsije's visas have expired and in order to renew them, they must renew their passports, which have also expired. In order to renew their passports, they must return to Kosovo because there is no embassy in the US for them to do this here. If they return to Kosovo, they are at great risk of never being granted US visas. And in Kosovo, Ardita will not have the necessary resources for her survival. Her mother fears that Ardita may even die on the long plane ride there.
Ardita's father lives two hours from the capitol city of Pristina, where any medical treatment is located. He has no car, electricity is intermittent in his village, and he is unemployed. The family would not be able to afford rent to live in Pristina. And even in Pristina, the medical care and technology cannot rival what Ardita needs and has received here in the US.
Despite everything she has endured and the frightening prospect ahead, Ardita continues to smile, play and see the good in everything and everyone. Within five minutes of meeting me, she gave me a beaded headband she had made and later, upon our departure, she handed me a fresh-picked dandelion. She joked and laughed with her cousins and when I asked if she wanted to give her mom a hug when she was crying, she said, "Naw, she's alright." Ardita is well-liked at school and her classmates even threw a fundraiser for her. A group of parents operate her website (www.helpardita.com) where people can donate or contact them with ideas and connections. Gani says that Shriners Hospital gave Ardita life while Elvehjem Elementary School gave Ardita a life. He explains that even at a young age, the war took its toll on Ardita. She would not leave her mother's side, even in the bathroom, without screaming and crying and was intensely frightened and uncooperative during medical appointments. Her teachers, peers and medical staff have provided much-needed socialization and now she is a bright, beautiful, well-liked child who says she even enjoys going in for surgeries. She aspires to someday be a nurse AND a doctor!
Filming this family was like no other experience for us. One does not walk away from a desperate mother begging for her daughter's life without being deeply impacted within. This is on our watch, too, now and we will not stop searching for a solution until its fruition. Ardita and Shemsije have purchased plane tickets for June 21, 2010 and say that every day and every hour speeds by. Gani says that his family has devoted the last eight years of their lives to Ardita's survival and if she goes to Kosovo, it's like giving up - shutting down her life, he says. Ideally, Shemsije says, she would like for her and Ardita to continue living here and have her father Sami join them so he can work, provide for them and help with Ardita's care. Gani says that Sami would work twenty hours a day, seven days a week if he were here. Shemsije adds that they are not here for fun - only to save her daughter's life. Ardita says she loves and misses her father and wants to see him. Shemsije told us she once heard Ardita tell someone that she is going back to Kosovo to die but it is okay because she will get to be with her father.
Shemsije said that if Sami cannot be here, she would still like for her and Ardita to stay, in Ardita's best interest. And finally, if they cannot stay, they need money and connections anyone may have to the resources they need in Kosovo: water filtration, a reliable generator and fuel, transportation, an English-speaking school, and referrals to non-governmental organizations that can help them there.
Ardita has experienced many miracles and beat great odds throughout her short lifetime and she and her family hope and pray for another one. Will you be part of her next miracle?
Jessica Haven 608-335-9112 jesshaven@gmail.com
Ardita, being supported by her mother, playing basketball with her cousin Mergime Jess films Ardita and her family (video to come soon!)
Ardita with her mother, cousins, aunt and uncle Ardita with her mother and father in Kosovo Ardita and her mother tired, ill and hungry in Kosovo Ardita at Shriners Hospital Therapy
I'm sorry. There. I got it out of the way. I am aware of the fact that nobody likes a braggart, but sometimes I have to brag. And I do believe people will still like me despite it. Come on now, I'm pretty charming! Anyhow, there's your damn apology. Now, please enjoy my bragging about how great my day was and how awesome my job is.
Tuesdays are long. Actually, Mondays, Tuesday, and Wednesdays are all extremely long, but I think that somewhere along the way, I must have subconsciously and strategically planned my schedule to be the way it is. One hilarious kid after another, a few moments of breathing time here and there, and short driving distances; it all works out perfectly and makes the long days go by quickly. I go to seven houses on Tuesdays and teach eleven students. And they're all great. Here's a little breakdown of today:
House #1: S, 12 and P, 10 have both requested the song "His Cheeseburger" from Veggie Tales. I bring them the music and the entire family (of 8) gathers 'round to look at the music and display their excitement. Here's the song:
Later, P and his mother are talking and she sort of half-sarcastically pinches his cheeks and says how cute he is. He reaches up, pinches her nose, and says "you're pretty cute too, Mom." Also, while his brother was playing "Down by the Bay," I could hear (not see, mind you) his 5-year old sister singing along made up words that included "down by the sea, with all the things, I have to go, down by the day."
House #2: This is the house of the girl (K, age 6) who touched my tooth once. You know she's a winner. Today we did a song called "The Crawling Spider" and she told me about the time she put tiny fake spiders next to her babysitter, and her babysitter screamed and ran to the bathroom and threw up 60 times. Mmm hmm.
K's sister, L, age 13, participated in the Solo & Ensemble Festival this weekend, which is when students prepare a serious classical piece to play in front of a judge and get feedback. I already knew she'd done wonderfully, and that she'd received a 1 (you can get a 1, 2, or 3, and 1 is the highest) but when she showed me her critique sheet from the judge, I saw that she got an absolutely perfect score; she couldn't have gotten any higher and the judge had absolutely nothing negative to say! Amazing. There's a fantastic Teacher Moment if I've ever seen one.
House #3: There's a lot of hugging and love and smiles. A, age 12, talks to me about how she composes. "I don't know, I just think of a song in my head and then my fingers do it. I don't know." This girl will probably be famous some day. Her compositions are amazing.
House #4: Previous A's friend, another A (also 12, we'll call them A1 and A2) has been taking lessons from A1 for the last year. She's never had a lesson from an adult teacher in her life, yet at her first lesson with me today, she knows about as much as a student who's been studying seriously for four years. All because of what A1 taught her. As a tiny person with very small hands (comfortable reach of about a 7th for you music nerds out there), she can somehow play this song. Beautifully:
House #5: K, age 13, received two male gerbils for Christmas this year. Except that one was a female and got knocked up. The babies were born a week ago, and we spent the first 8 or so minutes looking at baby gerbils. They are tiny, about half the size of my thumb, and just beginning to grow gray fur. All the babies were piled on top of each other in one corner. So cute. Oh, we also played some piano for a minute.
House #6: Oh this family. I love them. Every Tuesday I come to their house at 6:45 pm. And every Tuesday, they forget I'm coming. Today I arrive as they're finishing dinner. M. age 7, asks me if I "notice anything different about his top half." I guess that he got a haircut. His mom calls out from the other room, "Reem, do you think M looks like a girl?" I look at him closely and say "Definitely not." He looks at me doubtfully and informs me that instead of getting his hair cut at his regular barber, he had to go to "a beauty shop." Which meant that he looked like a girl. Of course. At the end of the lesson, the mom gave me two giant cookies; one was chocolate and peanut butter chip, and the other was dark chocolate chip, pecans, and dried cherries. Omg.
House #7: L, age 15, also participated in S&E this weekend. She also got a high 1; she played beautifully. I have videos, but feel funny about posting them on my blog, so message me if you'd like to see them.
Ah, what a lovely day! These kids make everything rule. Thanks for your patience in my Braggy Braggerson writing...sometimes I just feel like the world needs to know about all of these brilliant kids...
Hey Wisconnies! I bet you're sick and tired of being all cooped up after the 14 inches of snow and the subzero temperatures we've had in the last few days, eh? Well, I have the perfect social activity for you - Piano Recitals! Piano recitals are undoubtedly the finest social activity you could ever attend. They rock. You probably don't even need a reason to come, but here are a few anyhow:
"Jolly Old Saint Nicholas" will be played no less than four times. "Ode to Joy" will be played three times, and "Snowfall" twice. You'll have them all memorized by the end of it!
You'll hear songs such as "Deck the Halls," "We Three Kings," "Joy to the World," and "We Wish You a Merry Christmas," and you can sing the "alternate versions." Know what I mean?
Deck the Halls with gasoline/light a match and watch it gleam/watch the schoolhouse burn to ashes/aren't you glad you played with matches?
We three kings of Orient are/tried to smoke a rubber cigar/it was loaded/it exploded/BOOM! Slient night.
Joy to the world, the teacher's dead/we barbecued her head!/what happened to the body/we flushed it down the potty/and round and round it goes...etc.
And um... We wish you a merry fishmas and a crappy new year?
Also, I ask some of my students to do two songs per practice, and some of the combinations this year are hilarious. For example:
J, 11 years old, is doing the theme from The Office and the Jurassic Park theme.
A, 13 years old, is doing a song from Pirates of the Caribbean, and...Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.
L, 12 is doing the Beethoven "Romanze" from Sonatina in G Major and...Zelda's Lullaby. From the video game.
And the infamous P, 10 (the one who wrote his own will), is doing Silent Night (which was his mom's choice), and...The Imperial March from Star Wars (his choice).
And, to be sincere, there's going to be some really amazing music this year. The kids are getting so good and playing so thoughtfully and expressively...it will be a fun afternoon. If you're interested, we're doing three recitals on the afternoon on Sunday 12/20, at 12:30, 2:15, and 4:00. Let me know if you want to come and I'll let you know where they are. There will be snacks! And you'll get into the holiday spirit, if you're not there already. Tis the season!
Seriously. Everybody who's anybody will be there. Like I said, the social event of the year!
Okay, okay. I'm exhausted and broken and sort of wiped out from a very long (and lovely!) day at work. I scheduled poorly and ended up doing 17 zillion lessons in eight hours, and now I'm not totally sure I can explain what I learned today. But I'ma try, babies! Here we go...
M, 14 years old, comes for her lesson today. We're chatting, and somehow we get on the subject of tattoos. She talks about her cousin who's getting a tattoo behind her ear, and about how much she thinks this will hurt. I say that I can't really think of anywhere on a body that a tattoo wouldn't hurt, to which she replies...
Well, maybe it wouldn't hurt on the weenus!
I laugh, because, duh, "weenus." But then I stop and stare. Weenus? What the eff is a weenus??
My mind automatically travels back to the summer of 2000, and to the Arts Coop at Beloit College. I was hanging out there one summer night with several friends of mine, including one Mr. Andrew Feliciano. Andy, an obvious genius, was walking around being charming, as usual. He spotted this guy Gabe, who had a dog with him. I can't remember the dog's actual name, but Andy decided to call him "Weenus" for the rest of the night. He also decided, at the same time, that he'd from now on call all dogs "Weenus." Gabe didn't like that one bit, but Andy continued. And, as anti-climactic as this may be, that's the end of the story.
Oh, except sometimes I bump into Gabe here in Madison, and I think about Weenus, but I don't bring it up.
So anyhow, back to tonight. I hear my very mature, fourteen-year old student say the word "Weenus" in reference to it being a body part, and getting a tattoo on it and having it not hurt, and she's giggling, and I'm not really sure what to do. So thankfully she realized my confusion and says "Oh! Weenus is the extra skin on your elbow." She then pulls on her elbow skin and repeats it. "Weenus."
Have you all heard this before?? Is this even real? I've done a teensy bit of research, and apparently, there are some things that prove this point! Check it...
From Yahoo! Answers:
Hey whats a wenus (wee-nis)...I heard its either the little indention above your lip or the piece of skin on your elbow...anybody know what it is? Muchos gracias!
David T
Best Answer - Chosen by Asker
wenus
1. the skin on your elbow 2. a word use for freaking someone out by making them think youre talking about something else when you say wenus
Your wenus is huge! Wanna see my wenus? Cover up your wenus, for the love of god! My wenus is all wrinkly. My wenus can stretch really far. I have TWO wenuses!
And from The Urban Dictionary:
1. weenus The skin on your elbows. It can be stretched out, and, like a penis, you can compare the size of it to others. Weenus, It is a flap of skin. Weenus, It holds your elbows in. Weenus, It sounds like penis, But it is weenus, Oh, Yes, It is!!!
And some obviously saintly person who has dedicated a billion hours to the word weenus (sometimes spelled weenis here), using it in sentences, making up games, writing poems, sharing popular references. Too ridiculous to pass up. Check it here.
Weenus? Seriously?? Why would anybody choose weenus as the name of a body part? I just don't understand it. Unreal...
Okay, this was a tough one. Only because I wasn't sure if I should post it or not, due to the privacy issue. Here's the story: Yesterday, a parent of some of my students whom I've known for about 4 years told me that one of her sons (just turned nine years old) had written his own will. He came up with the idea on his own; nobody pushed, encouraged, or suggested anything. It was all his own doing.
Sort of morbid, right? His mother even agreed with me. But that's that funny part. It's actually way more hilarious than it is morbid. Read on to see why (I took out all names and personal things, but if you all spot anything else I should take out for privacy, let me know asap):
The Last Will And Testament of _____
March 30, 2009 I, ______, hereby declare:
I want to be buried; I do not want to be ashes. I want to be buried in a catholic cemetery. At my funeral mass, I want the hymns to be Amazing Grace and Lift High the Cross.
I want the Bishop of Madison, Wisconsin, United States to be the main celebrant at my funeral mass. I want to be buried next to _________. I want _________to make my casket.
I want them to burry my with my hair dyed purple. I want to be buried with a Wisconsin Badgers blanket and a rosary in my hands. I want to be buried a white cassock with red polka dots.
I want the funeral mass to begin at 3:17 AM, on a Monday. I want the funeral mass to be celebrated in a church with carpet somewhere in the building.
I want ______, ______, and _____ to serve at my funeral mass.
I want Little Creasers Pizza to be served at the luncheon after the funeral mass. And I want all of the people at the luncheon to watch the movie: St. John Bosco – Mission to Love, by Ignatius Press.
I want 100% of my money to go to the Cathedral of St. Raphael in Madison, Wisconsin, United States. I want all my other belongings, including my rubber ducky, to go to _________.
I want to give my batman underwear to my personal secretary, whoever it is.
I am not mentally ill at the time of writing. I want them to read this at my funeral mass. I, ____, is aged 9 at the time of writing.
I feel that I should also point out that this kid's little brother, who is two years old, told his mom the other day that he wanted to get a new dog and name it "Stupid." When the mom told him that this was not a nice way to talk and she didn't want to hear him call anybody that, he told her that he's only say it when she wasn't around.
Dudes, the kids are all being hilarious this week. I don't know what's going on. Maybe it's the windy fall weather in the middle of spring. Maybe it's the end of the school year. I don't know. They're all crazy people. But hilarious! Hence this blog...
S, age 7, doesn't show up to her lesson at the art center. I check the answering machine and her father has left a message. Apparently, S refused to leave the house because it was "too cold out," so she got sent to her room without dinner or piano. According to the dad, missing piano was the real punishment.
A, age 7, shows me a raccoon trap that's in their kitchen for some reason. He points at a tiny section of it, square with two holes in it. "Doesn't it look like cheese?" I stare at it for awhile. His mom whispers to me "I don't see it either, but he's been saying it all week."
J age 6 throws a pencil at my head. Oh, I'm serious. I look at him astounded and do the whole "absolutely not" speech. He gets sent to his room where he promptly falls asleep. I tell his mother about my squeamishness with having things thrown at me since, when I was 19, I got a hair pick thrown at me and it knocked out my front tooth. We all had a little laugh at that one. Later, J wakes up and comes out of his room. Mom says "Reem, J has something to say to you." J looks up at me all wide-eyed and says "Sorry you got a fake tooth, Reem."
P, age 12, is in her nightgown when I get to her house. It's 6:20 pm. She just wanted to be comfy, man!
M, age 6, points out that his neck has been growing longer. The funny thing about this one is that last week I totally noticed that his neck looked longer.
I am so glad I didn't call in sick to work yesterday or today!
I know I brag about my job pretty often. But dudes, it's true. My job is the shit.
A few months ago, I was on the phone with a dear, dear friend of mine, and he mentioned that he could never be a piano teacher. Later, he said that he understood more how people do it after we'd talked about it, which was nice. I could have tried to convince him otherwise though. I guess I could have gone on for awhile about the beauty in hearing kids play music, the joy of experiencing kids hear themselves play for the first time, the beauty behind teaching, the passion I have for music, the fact that "sometimes they teach me" (bored)...but whatever. That's maybe 10% of why I do it. Here are some of the real reasons why:
A few weeks ago, a six year old touched my front tooth. She was showing me which one was her loose tooth. I pointed to my own (coincidentally, my fake tooth) and she was like "No, no, you've got it all wrong. It's this one." And she touched her pointer finger to my front tooth. She kept it there for about 3 seconds while I wondered what the hell to do. I then laughed very hard. Once on my second date with an ex-boyfriend, the same had thing happened. At the time, I thought maybe he was just socially awkward. Now I know he had the mentality of a six year old.
A different six year old stared at me a lot during his lesson. I'd be talking, and he'd just look at me, sort of concerned. Eventually he said to me "you look new." I was sort of confused. "Is there something different today? Is that what you mean?" I asked him. "No, you just look new." he replied, and carried on with his music.
Last week an eight year old who acts about six told me the entire plot of the movie The Wild Thornberries. There's a point at which, when a kid is talking and won't stop, you just have to say fuck it and let them go on. That movie doesn't even really sound all that good, but she laughed about it for twelve minutes or so. I have no idea what the movie is about.
And then there was today: Monday. I love Mondays.
Let me break down my day for you:
1:45 - 2:15 K, 11 years old, talks about what it would be like to play piano with his eyelashes. Here's what it sounded like. "Only they'd have to be metal. Or, you could put them in ponytails. Why don't they call them horsie tails? But I guess the tails don't come out of people's bottoms. I don't know."
2:15 - 2:45 M, 7 years old, plays a piece with the pedal down. She turns to me and says, very sincerely, "I love this. I love doing this."
2:45 - 3:15 J, 11 years old, sight-reads The Addams Family theme song. I get teary-eyed for some reason.
3:15 - 4:45 The family I babysat for comes in (three kids). R, 10 years old, and I talk about sandwiches, of course. I tell her that I like Jimmy Johns a lot. She says "Oh, me and B (her brother, 7) play a game called Jimmy Johns. I'm Aunt Pearl, and my sister and two baby cousins are the three babies. We put them in giant diapers made out of clothes. B's name is Jimmy John in the game."
Later, she tells me that her little sister now wants to be a racecar driver when she grows up. This is a change from her last career goal of working at the Home Depot. She likes the way it smells...
5:30 - 6:15 and 6:15 - 7:00. M and E, both 14 years old, each have 45 minute lessons, During each, we watch videos of the pianist Glenn Gould, who's a crazy person. Check it:
During the overlap between their lessons, they giggled together and talked about how they were going to tell their friends at school tomorrow. This is what's cool to talk about at Middle School. Classical piano videos on youtube.
7:00 - 7:30 M, 8 years old, and I talk about holidays. She tells me that she made up a holiday called Condenvusion. I ask her about it, and she makes up a song. Here are the lyrics:
Condenvusion, Condenvusion It's a holidaaaaaaaaay Egg toss! Egg toss! Lemonade Pizza, cake, lalalalala Do you get it now? Do you get it?
7:30 - 8:15 T, the mother of S (14) tells me that when S comes to her lessons, it's like a pilgrimage in that the arrival of the lesson is like the end of a pilgrimage. I take this as a compliment.
Valentine's Day! Woooo! Love! Love rules. Here are some of the awesome ways I've already gotten to celebrate this year. I hope you all are having a day full of love! xxoo
J. (age 13) came into his lesson Thursday, thrust this into my hands, and said "My mom said I should give this to you."
Here's a valentine I got from one of my student's little sister. I think she is 5 or 6...
Here is a Video Valentine from my sister and the one and only Sharky! Watch him on his adventures through the kitchen! Listen to his brilliant voice! Well done, sister.
And here is a picture my father just sent me from his phone: a deer eating from the bird feeder in my parents' backyard! Beautiful!
I sometimes wonder if my students will look back on their piano lessons years from now and think about how I would tear up or almost cry on a pretty regular basis, and think it was funny or weird. I don't think I'd mind if they did.
I listened carefully today as the kids talked about Martin Luther King Jr. and the excitement over the first black president ever in this country, and how cool it is going to be tomorrow when he's the "actual for-real president" of The United States. I think I finally got the feeling a lot of other people had on November 4th...my cynicism and hatred for most things political faded a bit and I got swept away by the other stuff.
I tell you man, these kids...They're so good at making me remember the important stuff. The stuff that my stubborn adult brain forgets to remember sometimes.
A couple of weeks ago, I ended up babysitting for some of my students - this is a rarity, as I do not like to mix my super professional nature with outside-work sorts of things. But this was a wonderful exception - I got to hang out with four kids (three of whom I teach at the art center) for a few hours while their parents went to holiday parties.
So not only did I make a small fortune on a Saturday night, but I had a lovely time. Mostly we played the Wii. I'm not all that excited about sports in real life, but sports on the Wii are kind of fun. I'm actually extremely good at baseball and golf on the Wii. In real life, I'd probably vomit from boredom with these sports. But with the Wii...everybody can be good at sports. Even the nerdiest of nerds. Even bandos. Wow.
We'd been playing on the Wii for a little while when one of the kids (age 9) started asking me a bunch of questions. "What's your favorite thing to do at a mall? What do you eat for breakfast? When you go to sleep, what do you do to make yourself tired?" This soon turned into more hypothetical questions..."If you could have a pet monkey, would you? What about a pet ostrich? Would you rather have a pet monkey or win the lottery?" And those were the key words, my friends..."Would You Rather."
"Oh, we play this game all the time at the dinner table," the 9 year old tells me. "We're just not allowed any potty talk." That seems fair enough, so we begin. I wish I remembered more of them...here are some that come to mind right away:
Would you rather go to jail or carve a hole in the president's desk (the hole would have to be about an inch and a half in diameter)?
Would you rather eat mayonnaise mixed with hair, or a tooth dipped in mustard?
Would you rather have to wear braces for the rest of your life, or have buck teeth for the rest of your life and have a newspaper article written about it every day for the rest of your life?
Would you rather have flower pots stuck around your feet or cauliflowers for ears?
Would you rather get a tattoo of my face (the 9 year old) or B's face (the 7 year old) on your stomach?
Would you rather get your belly button pierced 8 times or get a tattoo of B on your stomach?
And such and such. It's amazing to me...in fact, when I went to the bar later that night, I played more with some friends of mine. And you know what? The kids won in the creativity every time. I mean, sure, there were some good ones (i.e. would you rather eat a hot dog - asking a vegan person - or your own finger? Would you rather have one boob or three boobs?), but nothing compared to the brilliance of the kids.
This past weekend, I went to a Christmas party at another friend's house and proceeded to play Would You Rather again, this time with Genia leading the way. It started innocently enough, but then I realized that these kids could totally use potty talk. Here are some of the ones from this weekend:
Would you rather be an eyelash or a boob?
Would you rather be a butt or a fart?
Would you rather have butterflies for ears or big tree trunks for arms?
Would you rather be a teacher made of blood or a teacher made of bread?
Would you rather be a couch or a Christmas tree (G was just saying things he saw in front of him at this point)?
Would you rather dance or stand around on the couch?
Would you rather live in a car with your mom or a dorm room with your dad (to be fair, this was made by the dad of these kids...pretty good...)?
Although the kids totally win, I do have to point out some pretty brilliant ones that came out somewhere between Gwen, Genia, and I within the last few years...
Would you rather have sand teeth or yogurt hands (imagine latex gloves filled with yogurt and tied off at the wrists. Imagine playing piano, or taking out the garbage with those yogurt hands...)?
Would you rather have yogurt hands or a layer of skin around your teeth? Sick.
Would you rather have really loud farts or really stinky farts? Also, you fart about 8 times an hour.
And last but not least, Genia's famous one...Would you rather (something terrible and awful - fill in your own) or eat your own hand?
Last year, I wrote my Tis The Season blogs about 3 weeks earlier in the year. Now here we are less than two weeks away from Christmas, and I haven't even told you all how I'm totally in the Christmas spirit already this year. Yes, 2008 has been the year of suck, but it's drawing to a close now, and I feel like Christmas '08 will be what makes it go out with a bang. A bang of awesomeness and rocking, I hope. After all, Tis The Season!
Let me explain for anybody who wasn't around last year. "Tis The Season" became my catch phrase for about a month and a half before Christmas last year. It really works in many ways as an all-encompassing, witty, and brilliant response to most questions, statements, and situations that may arise around the holidays. Examples:
Cashier at Target: I see you're buying some Christmas gifts! You/Me/Person Responding: Well, Tis The Season!
Boss at Work: Oh, you're a few minutes late... You/Me/Somebody Awesome: Well, Tis The Season! What can you do?
Bartender: Drinking alone again, eh? You/Me/Geniuses: Tis The Season, Jackass! (this should be said whilst sloshing your martini glass about, sloppily)
And such and such. "Tis The Season" can really be used at any times. My favorite times are, as mentioned, whilst in the company of a martini or other alcoholic beverage. See what you can do...it's a great catch phrase.
So besides celebrating the Reason for the Season by bringing back my awesome catch phrase, here are some other things I've been enjoying...
*The phrase "Don we now our gay apparel" makes me laugh every time I hear it or think about it. And it makes me think of fancy Christmas sweaters and other totally gay apparel.
*While teaching all the holiday songs at work, I get to have the following songs in my head: Deck the Halls with Gasoline Jingle Bells, Batman Smells Joy to the World, the Teacher's Dead We Three Kings of Orient Are - tried to smoke a rubber cigar - it was loaded, it exploded - Then I don't know the rest of the words! Can anybody help me with this??
*I may just change my myspace profile to have a Christmas theme...you won't know until you check it out! Last year it was "A Nicholas Cage Christmas." How can I even top that asshole? (Okay, I just tried to change it, but it wasn't working. Don't check right this second. Give me a few days. It will rock, I promise)
*Going to see the lights at Olin Park. I've been four times already. Five, if you count the fact that when I went through with my friend Laura and her son Miles, we got to go through twice. Yeah! I will most likely go about ten more times before they take them down. Never alone...I always need company. Hint hint...
*Awesome and hilarious and thoughtful gifts from The Kids. So far I've received over $40 worth of gift certificates for coffee (all local, no Starbucks! Yay for Madison kids!), a school picture of the naughty seven year old, a snowman tin filled with chocolate covered pretzels, a thing of trail mix, and a gift card from Panera that also came with a tub of blueberry "body butter." The kid who gave it to me presented it in this way:
Um, Miss Reem, um, I picked out the smell of that stuff for you because I thought maybe you could go to Panera and get a blueberry muffin, and then also the smell of that buttery stuff is also blueberry. Merry Christmas.
Brilliant. I'm anticipating more. I'll let you know what happens.
*Aaron Neville doing "Please Come Home for Christmas" on the radio. Even better than the Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire one. "Bells will be ringing...the gla-a-a-a-a-d news...oh what a christma-a-a-a-a-as...to have the blu-u-u-u-ues." Beautiful!
*And last, but the least of the least, decorating the Christmas tree at my parents' house. Last year, we left it to the last minute and ended up decorating it on Christmas Eve. This year, however, we were organized and proactive. Totally Christmassy. We put up the tree after Thanksgiving and decorated it as a family. My mother and I always have an argument about certain ornaments that are hidden away in the large storage boxes. There's easily over two hundred ornaments in there, some from before my older sister was born. There are these tiny little felt animals in crazy colors that are from my parents' first Christmas together in 1974. Mom argues that we don't need to put up all the old ones, and also that we don't need to put up every single ornament. I argue the opposite: of course we need to put up every single ornament in the house, and of course we're putting up the 34 year old ornaments. They're part of the family!
One year, BFF Sarah was visiting and helped us decorate the tree. When I told her about these old animal ornaments, she got all sentimental and hung them all in a giant clump, right at the top of the tree in the very front. I think her mindset was that "they deserved a little recognition" or something like that. I wholeheartedly agree. And this year was no different - the 34 year old ornaments are up in the tree!
About a third of the ornaments on the tree were made by my fantastically artistic sister (I'll take more pictures when I go visit for the holidays and post them later). Some are more recent - the silver spiders, which symbolize the story of the family that was too poor to afford an ornaments, so the spiders crawled all over the tree and became ornaments themselves. The icicles she made with the old people she volunteered with in a retirement center, the tiny silver snowflakes...they're all beautiful. Then there are the older ones, which are just kind of random. Like the Christmas Penguin, or the sled with the word "MOM" written on it in puffy paint, or the ball with sticks stuck in it, or the bear playing the drums, covered in sequins...
Or the lovely round thing that's silver and blue and pink...
I love each of these ornaments, and as long as I'm around, every one will go up on the christmas tree every year.
There is one ornament that stands out to me this year, and it's mostly because of the story with which it is associated. There's a little hanging Cinderella mouse named Jaq that Sara remembers getting in a McDonald's Happy Meal the first year we lived in that house, which was 1984, I think. She remembers it well because, at the time, there were limited edition special holiday dipping sauces that came with the chicken nuggets. She remembers something to the extent of Apple Cinnamon and Cranberry Spice. I've been searching forever to find out anything about this, but to no avail. I did find this interesting page on Wikipedia about McDonalds in other countries. Crazy foreigners...
Now, speaking of crazy foreigners, I'll leave you with more pictures of the beautiful tree and my classy parents:
I'm sorry, but I think I might just be the best piano teacher ever to exist in life. I know, I'm being a braggart, but I really think it may be true! Every year, I give my students each a mix CD, usually with a lot of songs that use piano. Sometimes I'll mix it up and put on some kid-friendly rock music, or some stuff that they might consider cool, and intersperse it with awesome rocking classical piano stuff. It's usually a big hit. But this year's Holiday Piano CD has surpassed any of the previous years' CDs. And I'll tell you why...it's because of the packaging.
Before I go any further, let me give you a little bit of history here...paint a little picture, if you will. I've never been a huge fan of all this visual art that everybody is always talking about. I used to yawn my way through field trips to the Art Institute of Chicago in grade school. I'd go to my friend's art openings in high school and hang out by the snack table, waiting to leave. The only visual art I ever really appreciated when I was a kid was photography. Other than that, I just didn't get how people could sit and look at this unmoving piece of something for longer than a minute or so. I definitely did not appreciate well.
The other thing is that I was never ever good at any visual art. I took a ceramics class in high school and all I ever made was a whole bunch of triangular shaped boxes with lids (my sister told me that this particular art teacher was afraid of triangles - I was such an asshole as a teenager) and a couple of money banks in the shapes of human heads. I cannot draw to save my life. I made my own deck of tarot cards for my fortune teller costume this Halloween that all turned out pretty great - I named the card, drew a picture on each, and labeled them with "Tarot of Reem." All of the pictures were pretty accurate except for any of them that had feet. I cannot effing draw feet. It looks like there are no ankles...just that there is this curvy part of your leg and then all of a sudden, whoops a daisy, there's your foot! And I can never get the toes right...Have a look at those feet - so awful!
Here are the two cards that had feet in them:
Close up on The Body Wax - look at that stumpy foot with awkward toes!
Close up on Athlete's Foot - nonexistent ankle! Grody!
Anyhow, I'm not good at the visual art. In fact, this aforementioned picture I'm painting would not be very impressive if it were an actual painting. Trust me.
At least now I've reached a place where my appreciation has grown. I'm still not talented in that sense at all, but I now love paintings and sculptures and collages. I'd even try a trip down to the ole Art Institute sometime. If you promise we only have to spend an hour or two there and can then go out for lunch. Oh, and I can totally appreciate colors and how colors go together. This may be due to Tara and her love for colors, or my sister and her beautiful paintings. So maybe this is why I am taking so much pride in the Holiday CD this year. Not necessarily because of the colors, or because I did anything really artistic, but just the fact that I made something that looks cool. For serious, I'm really impressed with myself. Check the pictures:
Here are some of the "winter" stickers I bought at Factory Card Outlet, a heavenly haven for teachers, crafters, and nerds alike:
Screw the big candy canes, I just got 40 mini candy canes for $2! These ones are also more difficult to break, so the kids won't whine and ask me for another like they do with the big ones.
Glittery pencils! They serve so many purposes: kids need to write on their music with pencils, not pens, and also they have glitter on them, which is always very purposeful.
This is the CD I made, with a scrap of green plaid wrapping paper and a curly ribbon wrapped 'round. One kid did ask me if I used Packers colors on purpose. I was immediately ashamed.
And the finished project! Come on, how cute is this? Do you see what I mean about me being the best piano teacher ever? Jeez...
The only thing that might not be so great is the fact that I totally left the CD making to the last minute. So...maybe it isn't the most exciting CD musically. Maybe it's mostly classical music and some other stuff that's pretty cheesy. Whoops a daisy. But I still think the packaging will take all the attention away from the actual music and the kids will be ecstatic, hands sticky from candy canes, skin glittery from cheap pencils, and spirits aglow from my awesomeness.
Okay, I'm done bragging. But just for like, the next few hours, while I sleep. Then I'll be back to do it more tomorrow - don't you worry!
I have to make 36 more of these, by the way. Part of me wonders if I'm going to hate this beautiful little CD by Monday...
Piano teacher who thinks she's hilarious and probably is. Loves to talk about food and music and Wisconsin and her wonderfully foreign family and the awesome things that happen while teaching kids.
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