The Scene: Middle School Band Rehearsal.
Band Director: OK, we're going to start back at E.
Flute player: D or E?
Band Director: E as in...elephant...Edward. E as in Edward!
Half the class, mostly those with longer hair holding woodwinds: Yes! Edward!
The other half of the class, mostly those with short hair: NOOOO!!!
Band Director: Confused face.
One Oblivious Trumpet Player: What's wrong with Edward?
Percussionist: He steals our girlfriends!!!
Showing posts with label school. Show all posts
Showing posts with label school. Show all posts
Friday, May 1, 2009
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Shut-Up, Brain!
Unfortunate new development:
Whenever I lay down to go to sleep, my brain starts lesson planning.
"No! Change your thoughts...you're on a beach, listening to Enya..."
"Ooh, I can teach 5/8 by having them say 'I love Taco Bell!' in rhythm!"
"NO! Enya...think about Enya..."
Sleepfail.
Whenever I lay down to go to sleep, my brain starts lesson planning.
"No! Change your thoughts...you're on a beach, listening to Enya..."
"Ooh, I can teach 5/8 by having them say 'I love Taco Bell!' in rhythm!"
"NO! Enya...think about Enya..."
Sleepfail.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
When Brothers Scan Bookshelves
Chris happened to be around visiting earlier this week, which was nice. However, while he was there, he was looking at my bookshelf.
"You read Vonnegut?"
"Um...yeah..."
"Wow, I wouldn't have figured. Steinbeck and 1984, too! Have you actually read these?"
"You sound so surprised."
"I thought you just read fantasy. I didn't realize you read actual literature."
This is the part where Amanda started twitching uncontrollably. Fantasy is not irrelevant. It can tell us every bit as much about human relationships and conditions as the grittiest realistic fiction there is. It creates new connections in our minds as we learn the rules and standards in each new world, learning a language to connect with it. It gives us another way to view the world and another opportunity to understand it.
In other news, it's dumping snow, and school has been canceled for tomorrow. This would be cool, if we didn't have a concert Tuesday after missing class Friday.
Alas.
"You read Vonnegut?"
"Um...yeah..."
"Wow, I wouldn't have figured. Steinbeck and 1984, too! Have you actually read these?"
"You sound so surprised."
"I thought you just read fantasy. I didn't realize you read actual literature."
This is the part where Amanda started twitching uncontrollably. Fantasy is not irrelevant. It can tell us every bit as much about human relationships and conditions as the grittiest realistic fiction there is. It creates new connections in our minds as we learn the rules and standards in each new world, learning a language to connect with it. It gives us another way to view the world and another opportunity to understand it.
In other news, it's dumping snow, and school has been canceled for tomorrow. This would be cool, if we didn't have a concert Tuesday after missing class Friday.
Alas.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
I QUIT! Wait...this could be OK...
So my cooperating teacher wasn't here again today, which was going to be just fine. I've done lessons by myself before, so today was kinda going to be pretty standard. First, with the Symphonic Band. We worked in full rehearsal for a little while, then split them up into sectionals.
(At this point, I should probably comment that we had a two-hour delay this morning due to a boiler malfunction, so they were already a little crazy. And in retrospect, I probably shouldn't have split them into sectionals. Whatever.)
They kind of lost their minds.
Every sectional I went around to, they weren't doing anything. With the exceptions of the trumpets and the percussion (has anyone noticed that crazy irony?) everyone was carrying on, not doing what they were supposed to.
As I'm going around, I go into the office, where the saxophones, trombones, and bass clarinets were.
They had the TV on.
I was so mad I couldn't even speak. The kids just sort of stared at me for a second, like they couldn't believe they'd just been caught and wanted to know what happened now. I was working very, very hard to keep from collassaly erupting.
"Go back into the band room."
That's all I said to them. I went around to all the other sections, calling them back into the band room. Then I plugged my metronome into the speakers.
"Allegro to the end."
They played it, and, predictably, screwed it up.
When they got through, they sat there, dead silent.
"No one played that perfectly. No one in here. Everyone messed up some note or rhythm, everyone got off on the tempo. So why were you not working on that in your sectionals?"
(Miraculously, no smart-ass called my bluff on the rhetorical question. Hooray.)
We started over again, and the fact that I was basically restraining myself from completely losing it went away as I worked with them on a few individual notes and rhythms. I ended it with something along the lines of, "I really like all of you and you've done hard work, but I can't not be mad when I walk into a sectional and everyone's talking. I can't not be mad when someone has the TV on." I told them that they had come along way, but they had to continue it to get any better and all that jazz.
Directly after that (with no break, because when we have a delay it's one right after the other,) Wind Ensemble starts coming in. I tell them straight-up that second period was very exhausting, and asked them to work hard because my nerves were completly frayed. I told them if I snapped at them and it seemed off, it was just because my temper was short after this morning. So we warmed up and they went immediately into sections.
They were fantastic. They (almost all) worked hard the whole time they were in sectionals. They seemed to get thing accomplished. And when we pulled them back together to play through the slow part in The Hounds of Spring, it was gorgeous. I've never heard them play it that well, and it was wonderful. Then the few things we fixed in the development part were quick fixes, and they adjusted fast and well.
So I discovered that it's possible to go from my-eyeballs-are-going-to-explode contained fury to complete contentment in less than an hour. Yay, band.
(At this point, I should probably comment that we had a two-hour delay this morning due to a boiler malfunction, so they were already a little crazy. And in retrospect, I probably shouldn't have split them into sectionals. Whatever.)
They kind of lost their minds.
Every sectional I went around to, they weren't doing anything. With the exceptions of the trumpets and the percussion (has anyone noticed that crazy irony?) everyone was carrying on, not doing what they were supposed to.
As I'm going around, I go into the office, where the saxophones, trombones, and bass clarinets were.
They had the TV on.
I was so mad I couldn't even speak. The kids just sort of stared at me for a second, like they couldn't believe they'd just been caught and wanted to know what happened now. I was working very, very hard to keep from collassaly erupting.
"Go back into the band room."
That's all I said to them. I went around to all the other sections, calling them back into the band room. Then I plugged my metronome into the speakers.
"Allegro to the end."
They played it, and, predictably, screwed it up.
When they got through, they sat there, dead silent.
"No one played that perfectly. No one in here. Everyone messed up some note or rhythm, everyone got off on the tempo. So why were you not working on that in your sectionals?"
(Miraculously, no smart-ass called my bluff on the rhetorical question. Hooray.)
We started over again, and the fact that I was basically restraining myself from completely losing it went away as I worked with them on a few individual notes and rhythms. I ended it with something along the lines of, "I really like all of you and you've done hard work, but I can't not be mad when I walk into a sectional and everyone's talking. I can't not be mad when someone has the TV on." I told them that they had come along way, but they had to continue it to get any better and all that jazz.
Directly after that (with no break, because when we have a delay it's one right after the other,) Wind Ensemble starts coming in. I tell them straight-up that second period was very exhausting, and asked them to work hard because my nerves were completly frayed. I told them if I snapped at them and it seemed off, it was just because my temper was short after this morning. So we warmed up and they went immediately into sections.
They were fantastic. They (almost all) worked hard the whole time they were in sectionals. They seemed to get thing accomplished. And when we pulled them back together to play through the slow part in The Hounds of Spring, it was gorgeous. I've never heard them play it that well, and it was wonderful. Then the few things we fixed in the development part were quick fixes, and they adjusted fast and well.
So I discovered that it's possible to go from my-eyeballs-are-going-to-explode contained fury to complete contentment in less than an hour. Yay, band.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Full of Win
Yesterday Mr. Bennett wasn't feeling to great, so he went home and left me to run the low brass sectional. There was one hella hard part (and when I say "hella hard" I mean "slightly tricky for a young Symphonic Band") that they were struggling with.
After much wailing and gnashing of teeth, I finally wrote a measure of straight eighth notes on the board. "Clap this."
They do. I took away one eighth note, writing in a rest.
"OK, now clap this."
They do, actually (gasp!) with the exact right space between the rest! I repeated this process of removing eighth notes until the rhythm they're fighting with was on the board.
"OK, now the way you think about this is that you still feel the notes you aren't clapping. You keep the beat the exact same way you do when you're playing, you're just doing it silently."
Lightbulbs! It was fantastic! Then, not only did they play that rhythm correctly, they played ll the others rhythms they were messing up right!
I could have danced. I think I did dance, actually.
After much wailing and gnashing of teeth, I finally wrote a measure of straight eighth notes on the board. "Clap this."
They do. I took away one eighth note, writing in a rest.
"OK, now clap this."
They do, actually (gasp!) with the exact right space between the rest! I repeated this process of removing eighth notes until the rhythm they're fighting with was on the board.
"OK, now the way you think about this is that you still feel the notes you aren't clapping. You keep the beat the exact same way you do when you're playing, you're just doing it silently."
Lightbulbs! It was fantastic! Then, not only did they play that rhythm correctly, they played ll the others rhythms they were messing up right!
I could have danced. I think I did dance, actually.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
But I am le tired...
Dear College of Ed,
While I appreciate what you are trying to do with this "daily and weekly reflection" thing, and I should muse on the things I did correctly and poorly this week, and I'm supposed to write a couple paragraphs about the differences between classroom management and discipline according to the Gospel of Harry Wong, I can't freaking do it right now. I understand that it's supposed to be an important part of the process, but the only reflection I want to see right now is the inside of my eyelids. Which isn't even a reflection.
I just taught two full classes of over fifty kids for over an hour each, and I am seriously considering torching my shoes. So I say this with all the love in the world: shut the hell up.
Love, Amanda.
While I appreciate what you are trying to do with this "daily and weekly reflection" thing, and I should muse on the things I did correctly and poorly this week, and I'm supposed to write a couple paragraphs about the differences between classroom management and discipline according to the Gospel of Harry Wong, I can't freaking do it right now. I understand that it's supposed to be an important part of the process, but the only reflection I want to see right now is the inside of my eyelids. Which isn't even a reflection.
I just taught two full classes of over fifty kids for over an hour each, and I am seriously considering torching my shoes. So I say this with all the love in the world: shut the hell up.
Love, Amanda.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Student Teaching!
I have begun student teaching at West Stokes High School, NC. Even though the drive is every bit as miserable as I thought it would be (about 45 minutes each way) it's been a fantastic experience so far. I don't feel like I'm quite as ill-prepared as everyone said I'd be ("You don't learn anything until you student teach!") but I don't feel like I'm rocking it out, either. I feel overwhelmingly average, which pretty much blows.
I'm trying very hard not to think about my mission intern application, which is in the far-away land called New York and completely out of my control.
I'm trying very hard not to think about my mission intern application, which is in the far-away land called New York and completely out of my control.
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