I first saved this post in April, and I think about it periodically but haven't found the motivation to type it all out until today when two tracks converged. First Mrs Darwin mentioned on Facebook the abysmal songcraft of modern hymns which is made evident when the instrumental accompaniment is stripped away. Second, the resident 2yo is running a mystery fever. She is sick enough to catnap, but not sleep deeply enough for me to move away and do something else. So here I sit. I may as well tell you about the church music.
I mentioned a time or two a few years ago my general displeasure with the music selection at church, and my lingering guilt about not participating except from the pews. In the interim, the situation declined from there. Our regular cantor left the parish. All of our piano players left. No one from the congregation stepped up to fill the void. We were left with a capella hippie songs, one decent guitar player who alternated with one terrible guitar player, a choir who couldn't sing their way out of bucket, and an occasional beginner piano player who plunked out a bunch of fail. It was a very sad state of affairs. Notably, it was also all volunteer. Nobody was paid for anything.
Up until about a year ago, my parish priest was a believing elderly man who was a good confessor, but honestly did not give a second thought to the niceties of liturgy. He did his best and didn't worry about the rest of it. His best included singing loudly, off key and out of rhythm, into his mike. It was all part of his charm, bless him. The fact that the music program was in shambles didn't phase him much. He figured if the Lord wanted a nice choir, someone would eventually show up to make it happen. He had faith, if nothing else.
However a year ago that priest retired, and the new pastor appointed in his place had a very different life history. He had been married and had a kid and got divorced and annulled and pursued a late in life vocation. But primarily of interest to the audience here is that his prior education is in music and he spent twenty years teaching it.
When he arrived, I wasn't sure how he would address the music situation but felt sure he would do something. At first nothing changed at all. The weekly disaster unfolded without comment. But when the Sanctus was so thoroughly mangled during the Christmas Vigil Mass that Father decided to repeat it verbally to make sure it was said, I knew it wouldn't be long until he acted.
By the end of January, he made his move. He hired a singer/pianist who had previously been a member of the parish years ago, but left for greener musical pastures at the parish in the next town. The music situation immediately improved. The choir stopped falling apart. They finally had a leader who could teach them how to sing the melody, follow the piano prompts, actually play the piano. The change was so stark, it became hard to remember how poor the prior offering were within a handful of weeks. The choir is actually good.
Since this new pianst was hired, the number of people attending Mass exploded. It's hard to miss the correlation. At the beginning of the year, it was the same group it had always been, but by Ash Wednesday, there were hundreds of more people attending. The only thing that significantly changed in that stretch of weeks was the music. The Ash Wednesday Mass was one of the most incredible events I have ever witnessed. Hundreds and hundreds of people present, standing room only, even all the way back to the far side of the Narthex. There were so many people, I was worried about the Fire Marshal showing up. There were an amazing number of people. And this increased attendance continued through the summer and now into the fall. This is all an unalloyed good.
Because this is good, I feel like a heel for my following complaint.
Yall. It's all Jesus Is My Boyfriend music.
The person who was hired is a name in the Catholic music scene. He's published in OCP. He plays concerts with the current Catholic pop stars. He programs a variety of his own music along with the current hits. He is a very nice guy. He loves syncopation. We emote. A lot. So many feelz. The Agnus Dei is now permanently the Matt Maher call and response version.
I haven't been Gathered In in months, for which I am incredibly grateful, but I admit I am disappointed in the direction the music has taken. On a positive note, they have also added both the entrance and communion antiphons, which I have never, ever heard regularly in a Mass. The cantor sings them solo before launching into the scheduled song. I appreciate that effort.
Even though I am disappointed, I can't be upset about this musical direction. I wish we had more traditional music or even some chant, but I cannot compare some version of perfection in my head to our current reality. I have to compare what was and what is. What was was incredibly bad. What is is just not to my taste. There is a world of difference in that distinction. While I can argue about what "should" be, I first have to accept what's possible and who is available. It was very apparent nobody with my vision of church music was going to appear and implement such a program. It so happens within our parish boundary is a gifted musician with publishing credits, and he is willing to serve us every weekend. He is good at what he does. This is very good for our parish.
But sigh, P&W is not my thing.
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Saturday, October 19, 2019
Sunday, January 8, 2017
One Credit Hour
Darwin hosted a lengthy discussion on Facebook about the state of the arts and why conservative leaning Christians are so thin on the ground. His thoughts that grew out of that discussion are here. I chimed in with my own thoughts, but this isn't about that. This is about remembering how it used to be. Y'all know (or maybe you don't) I majored in music. Here is a little taste of what earns one credit hour in music.
If you are a music major, the most important class you take is your private lesson instruction. This is what makes or breaks you as a candidate for a music degree. The requirements for this class are thus: an hour a week in a private lesson, an hour a week in a group lesson, an hour a week in convocation (this is a mini-concert during the day), attendance at an evening concert of varying lengths about once a week, personal practice time of about an hour a day (7 hours a week), and a jury in front of entire faculty at the end of the semester so they can decide if you get to continue to major in music. That is around 10 or 11 hours a week. For all of this, you earn one credit hour.
The second most important class you take is your major ensemble. The requirements for this class are thus: attendance at all rehearsals (only death is an excused absence; hospitalization might depend on the reason), attendance at any sectional your section leader desires to call, your personal practice time to work up your part because rehearsal is not for practicing, and attendance at however many dress rehearsals and concerts the ensemble performs. Rehearsals are generally two hours long, three days a week. That's six hours of class time plus whatever it takes outside rehearsal. For all of this, you earn one credit hour.
Of course, you do not want to be a slacker. Nobody takes only one ensemble. Most take two. Some take three.
Now comes the piano classes. This is a sneaky one. Piano isn't actually in the degree catalog. What is in the catalog is that you must pass a piano proficiency before taking upper level classes. The piano proficiency is an ungraded exam given by the notoriously fickle piano professor. Until you have passed, you have to take a piano class every semester until you do. Piano class meets for 75 minutes twice a week (2 and a half hours). You, theoretically, should practice 30 minutes a day to gain mastery. You probably don't. Most students have to take four semesters of piano. Some, cough, take five. For all of this, you earn one credit hour.
A vital part of a music degree is ear-training and sight-singing. This is as bad as it sounds. You are given music on paper, given the starting tone, and then you are supposed to sing accurately what is on the page without ever having heard it before. Or alternatively, you have a blank staff, are told the starting note, and have to notate whatever melody is played. This class was the weeder. If you could survive this class, with its sarcastic, no nonsense professor who wouldn't hesitate to tell you that you were out to lunch, maybe you could cut it as a music major. You have four semesters of this class, meeting twice a week for 75 minute classes. You definitely practice because it is the single most embarrassing class on the schedule. For all of this, you earn one credit hour.
Then there are your instrument classes. These classes exist to familiarize you with all the other instruments that are not your own. You will take six of these classes: one for your major instrument family, one for strings, one for percussion, one for voice, and two for your opposite instrument family. (Yes, I had to play a tuba. Yes, we were about the same size.)
Your class meets twice a week for an hour and a half. You definitely will be practicing whatever instrument you are assigned for 30 minutes a day because these classes kick your rear. This is 3 hours of class plus at least three hours of practice time, plus delightful written exams. For all of this, you earn one credit hour.
After that is the capstone instrument class, affectionately known as Boobie Band, where you are assigned an instrument that is not yours and the class has to function as an ensemble. This is another two and a half hours a week plus practice time. And you will practice because a master of this new, strange instrument, you are not. For all of this, you earn one credit hour.
Then there are the various electives you might decide to take if you decide graduating on time is not for you. Electives include improv, recording, deeper study into other instruments, minor ensembles. All of these are one credit hour.
We did have classes that were more standardized, three hour classes like Music Theory or Music History. I think Conducting was two hours, maybe? But a three hour class was an exception, not the rule, and usually took less bandwidth rather than more. My schedule generally consisted of two or three three hour classes and six or eight one hour classes to make up a full time schedule.
The way they got away with this is that most of our classes were classified as Labs. You remember when you took your three hour chemistry class and it had an attached one hour lab that met for three hours once a week? Like that, except a whole degree's worth of them and no attached lecture classes. Just time consuming lab after lab after lab. Don't you wish you were a music major too?
If you are a music major, the most important class you take is your private lesson instruction. This is what makes or breaks you as a candidate for a music degree. The requirements for this class are thus: an hour a week in a private lesson, an hour a week in a group lesson, an hour a week in convocation (this is a mini-concert during the day), attendance at an evening concert of varying lengths about once a week, personal practice time of about an hour a day (7 hours a week), and a jury in front of entire faculty at the end of the semester so they can decide if you get to continue to major in music. That is around 10 or 11 hours a week. For all of this, you earn one credit hour.
The second most important class you take is your major ensemble. The requirements for this class are thus: attendance at all rehearsals (only death is an excused absence; hospitalization might depend on the reason), attendance at any sectional your section leader desires to call, your personal practice time to work up your part because rehearsal is not for practicing, and attendance at however many dress rehearsals and concerts the ensemble performs. Rehearsals are generally two hours long, three days a week. That's six hours of class time plus whatever it takes outside rehearsal. For all of this, you earn one credit hour.
Of course, you do not want to be a slacker. Nobody takes only one ensemble. Most take two. Some take three.
Now comes the piano classes. This is a sneaky one. Piano isn't actually in the degree catalog. What is in the catalog is that you must pass a piano proficiency before taking upper level classes. The piano proficiency is an ungraded exam given by the notoriously fickle piano professor. Until you have passed, you have to take a piano class every semester until you do. Piano class meets for 75 minutes twice a week (2 and a half hours). You, theoretically, should practice 30 minutes a day to gain mastery. You probably don't. Most students have to take four semesters of piano. Some, cough, take five. For all of this, you earn one credit hour.
A vital part of a music degree is ear-training and sight-singing. This is as bad as it sounds. You are given music on paper, given the starting tone, and then you are supposed to sing accurately what is on the page without ever having heard it before. Or alternatively, you have a blank staff, are told the starting note, and have to notate whatever melody is played. This class was the weeder. If you could survive this class, with its sarcastic, no nonsense professor who wouldn't hesitate to tell you that you were out to lunch, maybe you could cut it as a music major. You have four semesters of this class, meeting twice a week for 75 minute classes. You definitely practice because it is the single most embarrassing class on the schedule. For all of this, you earn one credit hour.
Then there are your instrument classes. These classes exist to familiarize you with all the other instruments that are not your own. You will take six of these classes: one for your major instrument family, one for strings, one for percussion, one for voice, and two for your opposite instrument family. (Yes, I had to play a tuba. Yes, we were about the same size.)
Your class meets twice a week for an hour and a half. You definitely will be practicing whatever instrument you are assigned for 30 minutes a day because these classes kick your rear. This is 3 hours of class plus at least three hours of practice time, plus delightful written exams. For all of this, you earn one credit hour.
After that is the capstone instrument class, affectionately known as Boobie Band, where you are assigned an instrument that is not yours and the class has to function as an ensemble. This is another two and a half hours a week plus practice time. And you will practice because a master of this new, strange instrument, you are not. For all of this, you earn one credit hour.
Then there are the various electives you might decide to take if you decide graduating on time is not for you. Electives include improv, recording, deeper study into other instruments, minor ensembles. All of these are one credit hour.
We did have classes that were more standardized, three hour classes like Music Theory or Music History. I think Conducting was two hours, maybe? But a three hour class was an exception, not the rule, and usually took less bandwidth rather than more. My schedule generally consisted of two or three three hour classes and six or eight one hour classes to make up a full time schedule.
The way they got away with this is that most of our classes were classified as Labs. You remember when you took your three hour chemistry class and it had an attached one hour lab that met for three hours once a week? Like that, except a whole degree's worth of them and no attached lecture classes. Just time consuming lab after lab after lab. Don't you wish you were a music major too?
Tuesday, March 24, 2015
Music I Actually Like
Since I have been cranky about the church music, I thought I would make amends and tell you what I actually like to hear at church. Again this list will be pieces I really hear in my current parish. I am totally running down the index, so it will be in alphabetical order.
1. All Creatures of Our God and King
2. Alleluia! Sing to Jesus
3. Be Thou My Vision.
4. Crown Him with Many Crowns.
5. Faith of Our Fathers.
6. For All the Saints.
7. Go Make of All Disciples.
8. Hail, Holy Queen.
8. Holy, Holy, Holy. (the hymn not the Mass part)
9. On Jordan’s Bank.
10. Panis Angelicus. <--- I can count how few times, but it did happen.
11. Praise God, from Whom All Blessings Flow.
12. The Church’s One Foundation.
13. The King of Love My Shepherd Is.
14. ’Tis Good, Lord, to Be Here.
15. What Wondrous Love Is This.
16. We Walk by Faith. <-- See, I am not totally immune.
17. Ye Sons and Daughters.
There is one more that literally has two verses that you just sing over and over, but it is eluding me at the moment. I like that one too. If you have a guess, tell me.
But my very favorite of all time is Alleluia Chant Mode vi. I can't describe how happy it makes me to sing it.
What are your favorites?
1. All Creatures of Our God and King
2. Alleluia! Sing to Jesus
3. Be Thou My Vision.
4. Crown Him with Many Crowns.
5. Faith of Our Fathers.
6. For All the Saints.
7. Go Make of All Disciples.
8. Hail, Holy Queen.
8. Holy, Holy, Holy. (the hymn not the Mass part)
9. On Jordan’s Bank.
10. Panis Angelicus. <--- I can count how few times, but it did happen.
11. Praise God, from Whom All Blessings Flow.
12. The Church’s One Foundation.
13. The King of Love My Shepherd Is.
14. ’Tis Good, Lord, to Be Here.
15. What Wondrous Love Is This.
16. We Walk by Faith. <-- See, I am not totally immune.
17. Ye Sons and Daughters.
There is one more that literally has two verses that you just sing over and over, but it is eluding me at the moment. I like that one too. If you have a guess, tell me.
But my very favorite of all time is Alleluia Chant Mode vi. I can't describe how happy it makes me to sing it.
What are your favorites?
Monday, March 23, 2015
Songs That Make Me Weep...
...because I never want to hear them again. With apologies to those of you who like these songs. We can still be friends. :)
In my agitation over the musical situation at my parish, I ran across this piece which offers the sage advice that if you can't sing the music you want to hear at your parish, you are not yet part of the solution. The first step is to teach yourself first. That's advice I can actually use and fit into my current life's schedule.
So in the meantime, here are church pieces that if I never hear them again, it might be too soon. I am only including songs heard at my current parish. There are more from my childhood parish, but I'd rather not be reminded.
1. On Eagle's Wings. The melody starts on the tritone, the devil's own interval, for crying out loud.
2. Hosea. Fresh from Mass this weekend
3. Gather Us In. What is this song about?
4. City of God. I can't help but think of Starship every time.
5. Lord of the Dance. This one horrifies me.
6. Here I Am, Lord. The changing viewpoints where we totally put words in God's mouth.
7. Be Not Afraid. I just don't like it.
8. All Are Welcome. Again, what is this song about?
9. Eye Has Not Seen. Flashbacks from childhood.
10. Hail Mary, Gentle Woman. It just goes on and on.
11. Let There Be Peace On Earth. What are we, a bunch of hippies?
12. Sing A New Song Unto the Lord. I just don't like it.
13. They Will Know We Are Christians. Because we are the greatest ever.
14. One Bread, One Body. Not because it is so terrible, but because it is so overused.
15. Mass of Creation. Also so, so overused.
That's my top 15. I am sure I have forgotten some. Tell me where I am wrong or add to it, if you like.
In my agitation over the musical situation at my parish, I ran across this piece which offers the sage advice that if you can't sing the music you want to hear at your parish, you are not yet part of the solution. The first step is to teach yourself first. That's advice I can actually use and fit into my current life's schedule.
So in the meantime, here are church pieces that if I never hear them again, it might be too soon. I am only including songs heard at my current parish. There are more from my childhood parish, but I'd rather not be reminded.
1. On Eagle's Wings. The melody starts on the tritone, the devil's own interval, for crying out loud.
2. Hosea. Fresh from Mass this weekend
3. Gather Us In. What is this song about?
4. City of God. I can't help but think of Starship every time.
5. Lord of the Dance. This one horrifies me.
6. Here I Am, Lord. The changing viewpoints where we totally put words in God's mouth.
7. Be Not Afraid. I just don't like it.
8. All Are Welcome. Again, what is this song about?
9. Eye Has Not Seen. Flashbacks from childhood.
10. Hail Mary, Gentle Woman. It just goes on and on.
11. Let There Be Peace On Earth. What are we, a bunch of hippies?
12. Sing A New Song Unto the Lord. I just don't like it.
13. They Will Know We Are Christians. Because we are the greatest ever.
14. One Bread, One Body. Not because it is so terrible, but because it is so overused.
15. Mass of Creation. Also so, so overused.
That's my top 15. I am sure I have forgotten some. Tell me where I am wrong or add to it, if you like.
Thursday, March 19, 2015
Music Ministry
A few weeks ago, I was part of a conversation where we discussed the "hymns" on which we would like to drop the ban hammer at church. Since I have been gathered in one too many times recently, I am struggling with what my status should be in regards to the music at Mass.
I grew up in a parish where I was absolutely appalled by the music. It was so bad and performed so poorly. I fell into the awful habit of snickering and smirking throughout Mass as we listened to warmed over hippy music on guitar sung by people who couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. My mother and I had many arguments over the music. My mother would object to my ill-concealed disgust. As I once again rolled my eyes at the assault on my ears, she would remind me that we didn't come to Mass for the music. This is true enough as far as it goes. She was right that, in my youth and immaturity, I was letting a superficiality trump true worship at Mass. In fact that superficiality obliterated most of my connection to the Church for years. I was wrong.
But I was not wrong about the music. It was bad. And I was not wrong that it was an affront for it to be sung so poorly. In my ignorance, I had no idea while growing up that the Church had a long history of chant which had been suppressed. I also had no idea the liturgy has been so recently and drastically altered. The only information I knew was that Mass used to be in Latin and now it wasn't. I assumed that was the only thing that changed. The art music settings of the Mass confused me. How could we say our parts with all that music playing? Total cultural disconnect. Here is what I did know: 1) Traditional hymns existed. 2) We did not sing them at church.
My current parish does not have the same degree of musical problems as my childhood parish. There is a mix of traditional hymns along with the newer dreck. The regular cantor at our early Mass is a gifted singer even if she might sometimes get carried away with a blues/gospel bent. The piano player is also quite good even though his first Communion meditation was Eric Clapton's Tears In Heaven. Seriously. I wish I were kidding. But that was a one-off event. I am sure someone spoke to him about it. The rest of the choir does a decent job harmonizing--something that was completely absent in my childhood--and following the lead of the cantor.
These things are well and good. The problem with the music in my parish is the depth of involvement by the parishioners at large. Our parish claims over six hundred families, but if you add up all the people involved with the music across the four Sunday Masses offered, you probably have around ten people. Definitely fewer than twenty. I am aggravated by the apathy.
When the above mentioned cantor and piano player are absent, the choir struggles mightily. There is no back-up piano player. The back-up cantor, bless his heart, tries hard, but his voice is terribly unpleasant. I am not sure he actually reads music. I don't know it for certain, but it is my educated guess from watching him through the years. I admire his attempts, but it makes me wonder why someone who so obviously cannot sing volunteers to do it week after week. When he is cantoring, the selected hymns are sure to be dreck. I guess he likes it or is more comfortable with it. I don't know.
The choir regularly asks and sometimes begs for additional members to volunteer, but no one ever seems to step forward. Not even me.
Even though I am a trained musician, I am not a singer. I can carry a tune and read notes and rhythms well enough, but my voice is thin and does not carry. My range is limited where fourth line D is the highest note I would ever feel comfortable performing in public even after thoroughly warming up. I am not at all a piano player. I would be comfortable singing in the choir, but I have no desire to cantor. More than that though, I have no desire to sing dreck. I struggle enough to refrain from rolling my eyes when the hymn board announces numbers from a certain range in the hymnal. There are a couple of frequent choices where the forefront thought in my head is, "What, exactly, is this song about?" I exchange knowing glances with Dave.
I sometimes feel guilty about my lack of involvement. There are probably not that many people with music degrees sitting in congregation. Me. My sister. My husband. None of us are in the choir. But then I think of the practical realities of my involvement and just don't think it is my time right now. The choir area is right up front next to the altar. There is no discreet way slip away when necessary. You can't just stop the action to say, "Excuse me, Father, don't mind me, the baby needs to nurse." Or worse to have to run for the bathroom to throw up while pregnant. No, this is not reasonable. I would have to take long hiatuses. Not to mention the time requirement of the rehearsal schedule. It is not strenuous, just one night a week, but I already feel overwhelmed and stretched most of the time. I don't see adding another weekly item to my plate.
I suppose an on-again, off-again membership in the choir would have been more helpful, but the truth is that I am not interested in joining unless I can move the music itself in a positive direction. To steer the selections away from the awfulness and towards more traditional pieces, and maybe some, gasp, chant. But I know this isn't possible without a long term commitment, especially given my age in relation to those currently in the choir.
So then I get irritated with my fellow parishioners. Why does no one step up? Is it because it's bad and nobody wants to sing bad music? Is it because nobody really cares? How can that be? I bristle at feeling like it shouldn't be my responsibility. At some level, though, it is my responsibility.
For now, my general contribution is to sing louder when I hear the backup cantor struggling with a rhythm he obviously can't read off the sheet music in order to give the people around me some guidance. Selective cantoring from the pew, perhaps? I do think it helps a little bit. But true confession: I never sing the dreck.
So what do you think? Should I buck up and join the choir? And which songs would you ban if it were up to you?
I grew up in a parish where I was absolutely appalled by the music. It was so bad and performed so poorly. I fell into the awful habit of snickering and smirking throughout Mass as we listened to warmed over hippy music on guitar sung by people who couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. My mother and I had many arguments over the music. My mother would object to my ill-concealed disgust. As I once again rolled my eyes at the assault on my ears, she would remind me that we didn't come to Mass for the music. This is true enough as far as it goes. She was right that, in my youth and immaturity, I was letting a superficiality trump true worship at Mass. In fact that superficiality obliterated most of my connection to the Church for years. I was wrong.
But I was not wrong about the music. It was bad. And I was not wrong that it was an affront for it to be sung so poorly. In my ignorance, I had no idea while growing up that the Church had a long history of chant which had been suppressed. I also had no idea the liturgy has been so recently and drastically altered. The only information I knew was that Mass used to be in Latin and now it wasn't. I assumed that was the only thing that changed. The art music settings of the Mass confused me. How could we say our parts with all that music playing? Total cultural disconnect. Here is what I did know: 1) Traditional hymns existed. 2) We did not sing them at church.
My current parish does not have the same degree of musical problems as my childhood parish. There is a mix of traditional hymns along with the newer dreck. The regular cantor at our early Mass is a gifted singer even if she might sometimes get carried away with a blues/gospel bent. The piano player is also quite good even though his first Communion meditation was Eric Clapton's Tears In Heaven. Seriously. I wish I were kidding. But that was a one-off event. I am sure someone spoke to him about it. The rest of the choir does a decent job harmonizing--something that was completely absent in my childhood--and following the lead of the cantor.
These things are well and good. The problem with the music in my parish is the depth of involvement by the parishioners at large. Our parish claims over six hundred families, but if you add up all the people involved with the music across the four Sunday Masses offered, you probably have around ten people. Definitely fewer than twenty. I am aggravated by the apathy.
When the above mentioned cantor and piano player are absent, the choir struggles mightily. There is no back-up piano player. The back-up cantor, bless his heart, tries hard, but his voice is terribly unpleasant. I am not sure he actually reads music. I don't know it for certain, but it is my educated guess from watching him through the years. I admire his attempts, but it makes me wonder why someone who so obviously cannot sing volunteers to do it week after week. When he is cantoring, the selected hymns are sure to be dreck. I guess he likes it or is more comfortable with it. I don't know.
The choir regularly asks and sometimes begs for additional members to volunteer, but no one ever seems to step forward. Not even me.
Even though I am a trained musician, I am not a singer. I can carry a tune and read notes and rhythms well enough, but my voice is thin and does not carry. My range is limited where fourth line D is the highest note I would ever feel comfortable performing in public even after thoroughly warming up. I am not at all a piano player. I would be comfortable singing in the choir, but I have no desire to cantor. More than that though, I have no desire to sing dreck. I struggle enough to refrain from rolling my eyes when the hymn board announces numbers from a certain range in the hymnal. There are a couple of frequent choices where the forefront thought in my head is, "What, exactly, is this song about?" I exchange knowing glances with Dave.
I sometimes feel guilty about my lack of involvement. There are probably not that many people with music degrees sitting in congregation. Me. My sister. My husband. None of us are in the choir. But then I think of the practical realities of my involvement and just don't think it is my time right now. The choir area is right up front next to the altar. There is no discreet way slip away when necessary. You can't just stop the action to say, "Excuse me, Father, don't mind me, the baby needs to nurse." Or worse to have to run for the bathroom to throw up while pregnant. No, this is not reasonable. I would have to take long hiatuses. Not to mention the time requirement of the rehearsal schedule. It is not strenuous, just one night a week, but I already feel overwhelmed and stretched most of the time. I don't see adding another weekly item to my plate.
I suppose an on-again, off-again membership in the choir would have been more helpful, but the truth is that I am not interested in joining unless I can move the music itself in a positive direction. To steer the selections away from the awfulness and towards more traditional pieces, and maybe some, gasp, chant. But I know this isn't possible without a long term commitment, especially given my age in relation to those currently in the choir.
So then I get irritated with my fellow parishioners. Why does no one step up? Is it because it's bad and nobody wants to sing bad music? Is it because nobody really cares? How can that be? I bristle at feeling like it shouldn't be my responsibility. At some level, though, it is my responsibility.
For now, my general contribution is to sing louder when I hear the backup cantor struggling with a rhythm he obviously can't read off the sheet music in order to give the people around me some guidance. Selective cantoring from the pew, perhaps? I do think it helps a little bit. But true confession: I never sing the dreck.
So what do you think? Should I buck up and join the choir? And which songs would you ban if it were up to you?
Friday, October 3, 2014
Wait, I Thought You Were A Music Major? Part IV
Continuing from Part III
Once we moved to Knoxville, we launched ourselves into finding a way to survive. Dave searched for jobs. He interviewed a few places and quickly found a job as a middle school band director/high school assistant. He was in the sweet spot for getting hired, a couple of years of experience, but not too much experience. The new job even paid more than the old job.
I applied for graduate school on campus and was quickly accepted. I was offered a graduate assistantship which would cover my tuition and pay a small stipend on top. Since almost none of my previous college credits were sufficient to prepare me for graduate level computer science courses, I had to register entirely for undergraduate work. But all was well. We had taken a blind leap and landed on our feet.
Over the next two years, I took almost the entirety of the computer science requirements for a bachelor's degree plus numerous math classes. I enjoyed the logic of the work and the coding, but our program was very systems focused and I wasn't terribly interested in systems. I wanted a career that was broadly applicable and didn't involve endless time as a code monkey. I took a class on database programming and was thoroughly intrigued. I thought a blend of computer science with business would be a great combination.
I looked at the graduate program in computer science for which I had been taking all the prerequisites and realized it would take me another three years to get through the program. I hadn't set out to become a professional student. At this point I was nearly 27 years old. We knew we wanted to start a family soon. I started looking around at what was available for me to finish up a program, move into the direction of database work and get on with our lives. The available coursework in databases was spread across three departments: computer science, business, and information sciences. Information sciences is the new-fangled name for library science. N.B. I don't know if every information sciences program has an extensive catalog available in database design and implementation, but one of the profs in this program had a special interest in the area.
After examining what was available on campus, I decided to change my major to information sciences. There was a two-fold reason. 1) I knew with all my previous CS coursework standing as electives, I could finish the program in a calendar year if I took a very full load. I could not finish either of the other two options within that time frame. 2) I knew there would be some opaqueness into an employer's understanding of what information sciences is. If the degree was still called library science, I would not have made the switch. Since I knew that I had the foundational knowledge for what I wanted to do, the name of the degree was not that important to me, but I did not want to have a degree that employers would dismiss out of hand. Library science would be dismissed. Information Sciences sounds techy.
I secured another assistantship and launched into Information Science taking all the database classes that were available on campus. I also took the core requirements for the library portion so, technically, I am qualified to be a librarian as well. I got pregnant partway though my coursework, planned to the nth degree. The last few months of school were grueling because I was very sick. I graduated in May 2005 with a Master of Science in Information Sciences. I had Grace in August.
When Grace was born I was overwhelmed with motherhood. I was not quite as sold on our original plan as I thought I would be, but I was managing the household and myself about as well as the mother in Simcha Fisher's classic essay, which is to say not well. I still struggled with the feeling of not accomplishing anything, feeling like I was shirking my duties, and just generally feeling lazy.
In the meantime, Dave had become extremely disgruntled in his work. The schedule was insane, the pay was terrible, and some of the students were unbearable. We actually had to swear out a warrant once, but that's another story. He wanted out, badly. I started looking for employment.
Even though I had some misgivings, it looked like our plan really was the wisest course of action to take. In October 2006, I accepted a position as a database analyst working directly under the DBA. Even though my title has changed, I still have the same job today.
Once we moved to Knoxville, we launched ourselves into finding a way to survive. Dave searched for jobs. He interviewed a few places and quickly found a job as a middle school band director/high school assistant. He was in the sweet spot for getting hired, a couple of years of experience, but not too much experience. The new job even paid more than the old job.
I applied for graduate school on campus and was quickly accepted. I was offered a graduate assistantship which would cover my tuition and pay a small stipend on top. Since almost none of my previous college credits were sufficient to prepare me for graduate level computer science courses, I had to register entirely for undergraduate work. But all was well. We had taken a blind leap and landed on our feet.
Over the next two years, I took almost the entirety of the computer science requirements for a bachelor's degree plus numerous math classes. I enjoyed the logic of the work and the coding, but our program was very systems focused and I wasn't terribly interested in systems. I wanted a career that was broadly applicable and didn't involve endless time as a code monkey. I took a class on database programming and was thoroughly intrigued. I thought a blend of computer science with business would be a great combination.
I looked at the graduate program in computer science for which I had been taking all the prerequisites and realized it would take me another three years to get through the program. I hadn't set out to become a professional student. At this point I was nearly 27 years old. We knew we wanted to start a family soon. I started looking around at what was available for me to finish up a program, move into the direction of database work and get on with our lives. The available coursework in databases was spread across three departments: computer science, business, and information sciences. Information sciences is the new-fangled name for library science. N.B. I don't know if every information sciences program has an extensive catalog available in database design and implementation, but one of the profs in this program had a special interest in the area.
After examining what was available on campus, I decided to change my major to information sciences. There was a two-fold reason. 1) I knew with all my previous CS coursework standing as electives, I could finish the program in a calendar year if I took a very full load. I could not finish either of the other two options within that time frame. 2) I knew there would be some opaqueness into an employer's understanding of what information sciences is. If the degree was still called library science, I would not have made the switch. Since I knew that I had the foundational knowledge for what I wanted to do, the name of the degree was not that important to me, but I did not want to have a degree that employers would dismiss out of hand. Library science would be dismissed. Information Sciences sounds techy.
I secured another assistantship and launched into Information Science taking all the database classes that were available on campus. I also took the core requirements for the library portion so, technically, I am qualified to be a librarian as well. I got pregnant partway though my coursework, planned to the nth degree. The last few months of school were grueling because I was very sick. I graduated in May 2005 with a Master of Science in Information Sciences. I had Grace in August.
When Grace was born I was overwhelmed with motherhood. I was not quite as sold on our original plan as I thought I would be, but I was managing the household and myself about as well as the mother in Simcha Fisher's classic essay, which is to say not well. I still struggled with the feeling of not accomplishing anything, feeling like I was shirking my duties, and just generally feeling lazy.
In the meantime, Dave had become extremely disgruntled in his work. The schedule was insane, the pay was terrible, and some of the students were unbearable. We actually had to swear out a warrant once, but that's another story. He wanted out, badly. I started looking for employment.
Even though I had some misgivings, it looked like our plan really was the wisest course of action to take. In October 2006, I accepted a position as a database analyst working directly under the DBA. Even though my title has changed, I still have the same job today.
Thursday, October 2, 2014
Wait, I Thought You Were A Music Major? Part III
Continuing from Part II
I settled into the routine of going to work at the bank everyday. There were aspects of the job I really enjoyed. I loved counting the money, the details of executing transactions, the pride in having a balanced drawer everyday. As the summer arrived, I revisited the idea of finding a band job. I was on the lookout, but again there was nothing open within a reasonable driving distance and the impracticability of having two band directors in the family was driven home once more.
As we grappled with this employability conflict and the reality of a teaching salary, we had a fateful conversation in the car on a long trip. What if I quit looking for a band job? What if since Dave was already employed, I use this flexibility to find a career that would pay more than teaching? What if I went to graduate school? When I had more profitable credentials and we were ready to have children, what if Dave quit teaching school and stayed home? What if I was the one who went out and worked? He did most of the cooking anyway. Wouldn't this work out better?
In Dave's second year at the school, I set out to figure out what exactly it was I wanted to do that would meet our requirements. I enrolled in some business classes at the local community college because that's what you do when you don't know what you want to do. I took accounting, economics, and math. I rediscovered my long dormant love of math which had been frustrated out of me by terrible middle school math teachers. After spending a year in the odd world of community college where some of the easiest classes I have ever taken were treated like we were studying string theory, I decided I needed to make a move.
Although I enjoyed the business classes, I couldn't see myself becoming an accountant. I knew any viable career change would probably require graduate school. I started looking through college websites looking at what options were available. I settled on computer science. Why? I don't really know. I knew it was detail-oriented which I liked. I knew there should be plenty of job market growth in the field. And I knew it should pay well. I called the university, inquired, and was assured that I would not have trouble being accepted into the program and even get an assistantship.
Dave and I discussed our options and plans. We decided that if we were ever going to do anything crazy and brash, now was the time before we were laden with responsibilities. In August 2002, we both submitted our resignations and moved to Knoxville with nothing waiting on us there. No employment, no income, no guarantees.
On to the Grand Finale!
I settled into the routine of going to work at the bank everyday. There were aspects of the job I really enjoyed. I loved counting the money, the details of executing transactions, the pride in having a balanced drawer everyday. As the summer arrived, I revisited the idea of finding a band job. I was on the lookout, but again there was nothing open within a reasonable driving distance and the impracticability of having two band directors in the family was driven home once more.
As we grappled with this employability conflict and the reality of a teaching salary, we had a fateful conversation in the car on a long trip. What if I quit looking for a band job? What if since Dave was already employed, I use this flexibility to find a career that would pay more than teaching? What if I went to graduate school? When I had more profitable credentials and we were ready to have children, what if Dave quit teaching school and stayed home? What if I was the one who went out and worked? He did most of the cooking anyway. Wouldn't this work out better?
In Dave's second year at the school, I set out to figure out what exactly it was I wanted to do that would meet our requirements. I enrolled in some business classes at the local community college because that's what you do when you don't know what you want to do. I took accounting, economics, and math. I rediscovered my long dormant love of math which had been frustrated out of me by terrible middle school math teachers. After spending a year in the odd world of community college where some of the easiest classes I have ever taken were treated like we were studying string theory, I decided I needed to make a move.
Although I enjoyed the business classes, I couldn't see myself becoming an accountant. I knew any viable career change would probably require graduate school. I started looking through college websites looking at what options were available. I settled on computer science. Why? I don't really know. I knew it was detail-oriented which I liked. I knew there should be plenty of job market growth in the field. And I knew it should pay well. I called the university, inquired, and was assured that I would not have trouble being accepted into the program and even get an assistantship.
Dave and I discussed our options and plans. We decided that if we were ever going to do anything crazy and brash, now was the time before we were laden with responsibilities. In August 2002, we both submitted our resignations and moved to Knoxville with nothing waiting on us there. No employment, no income, no guarantees.
On to the Grand Finale!
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
Wait, I Thought You Were A Music Major? Part II
Continuing the story from Part I
After the attempted railroading, Dave quickly looked around and put out feelers and found a job as an assistant band director in a county about two hours away. It was a good job for someone just starting out or without much experience. It was essentially a team teaching position with a guy who had years of experience and could guide Dave through his first years of teaching instead of the sink or swim situation he had in Crazyville and it paid more money.
We moved and, after a short delay which would take another post to explain but I will spare you, Dave started working the new job immediately. I was at home unemployed. At first I looked around a bit, but since school had already started, there were slim pickings. This is when it first occurred to me that maybe having two band directors in the family might not be a good idea. After it was apparent there would be no positions open within a reasonable distance, I began looking for an hourly job in the town where we lived. To my surprise, I had trouble finding a job in this way as well. I was told over and over that I was overqualified. I was frustrated to say the least because I knew it would be at least nine or ten months for even the opportunity of another band job opening. Surely a good worker for most of a year would be good enough, but no, they expected you to make a career out of bagging groceries or they were not interested.
Dave's schedule was very hectic and I spent a lot of time at home alone. It generally takes me a long time to make friends and I was now a stranger in a cliquish, small town. I would head over to the band room and hang out, but the band parents at this school were strangely uninvolved. I tried to cook and keep house, but never felt like anything was good enough. Every task left undone at home was an indictment of my slacker freeriding. Daytime television, which I hate, sucked more of my time, but I really didn't know what to do with myself. I had plans but no drive to complete them. In retrospect, I was very lonely, but I didn't recognize it at the time.
Money was tight since rent took nearly 40% of our take home pay and I began to think about the future. It was very important to me that our potential children be raised directly by us at home and not go to daycare. I went to daycare for a time as a child and HATED IT! After I outgrew daycare, I was a latchkey kid after school and HATED IT! My mother was a school teacher so I was only home by myself for maybe an hour a day, but I felt abandoned, not that I could articulate that feeling at the time. I hated unlocking the door and being in the empty house by myself. My siblings were around but I hated the unmoored feeling of there being no adults home. I think this is why I had so much trouble functioning during this period of unemployment. I had no functional model of what to do all day. I also think unsupervised children and teenagers create more problems than would normally arise if there was an adult around to put the kibosh on it. It was extremely important for us to be able to live on one income when the children came. Knowing what my future desires were, the reality of living on the single income of a teacher began to sink in. It wasn't that I wasn't willing to live frugally or go without extras, it was that we were spending almost every dime and just barely scraping by with basic necessities. I began to question the long term viability of our situation.
After six months, I was finally hired by a local bank as a teller and we could start putting money in the savings account again. Hurray! But the necessity of more income weighed on my mind.
On to Part III
After the attempted railroading, Dave quickly looked around and put out feelers and found a job as an assistant band director in a county about two hours away. It was a good job for someone just starting out or without much experience. It was essentially a team teaching position with a guy who had years of experience and could guide Dave through his first years of teaching instead of the sink or swim situation he had in Crazyville and it paid more money.
We moved and, after a short delay which would take another post to explain but I will spare you, Dave started working the new job immediately. I was at home unemployed. At first I looked around a bit, but since school had already started, there were slim pickings. This is when it first occurred to me that maybe having two band directors in the family might not be a good idea. After it was apparent there would be no positions open within a reasonable distance, I began looking for an hourly job in the town where we lived. To my surprise, I had trouble finding a job in this way as well. I was told over and over that I was overqualified. I was frustrated to say the least because I knew it would be at least nine or ten months for even the opportunity of another band job opening. Surely a good worker for most of a year would be good enough, but no, they expected you to make a career out of bagging groceries or they were not interested.
Dave's schedule was very hectic and I spent a lot of time at home alone. It generally takes me a long time to make friends and I was now a stranger in a cliquish, small town. I would head over to the band room and hang out, but the band parents at this school were strangely uninvolved. I tried to cook and keep house, but never felt like anything was good enough. Every task left undone at home was an indictment of my slacker freeriding. Daytime television, which I hate, sucked more of my time, but I really didn't know what to do with myself. I had plans but no drive to complete them. In retrospect, I was very lonely, but I didn't recognize it at the time.
Money was tight since rent took nearly 40% of our take home pay and I began to think about the future. It was very important to me that our potential children be raised directly by us at home and not go to daycare. I went to daycare for a time as a child and HATED IT! After I outgrew daycare, I was a latchkey kid after school and HATED IT! My mother was a school teacher so I was only home by myself for maybe an hour a day, but I felt abandoned, not that I could articulate that feeling at the time. I hated unlocking the door and being in the empty house by myself. My siblings were around but I hated the unmoored feeling of there being no adults home. I think this is why I had so much trouble functioning during this period of unemployment. I had no functional model of what to do all day. I also think unsupervised children and teenagers create more problems than would normally arise if there was an adult around to put the kibosh on it. It was extremely important for us to be able to live on one income when the children came. Knowing what my future desires were, the reality of living on the single income of a teacher began to sink in. It wasn't that I wasn't willing to live frugally or go without extras, it was that we were spending almost every dime and just barely scraping by with basic necessities. I began to question the long term viability of our situation.
After six months, I was finally hired by a local bank as a teller and we could start putting money in the savings account again. Hurray! But the necessity of more income weighed on my mind.
On to Part III
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Wait, I Thought You Were A Music Major? Part I
I mentioned in this post that I have a degree in music and then I talked in this post about the dashed dreams of a lucrative career, among other things, so you must being thinking this does not compute. Nobody majors in music expecting a lucrative career. And I surely did not.
I graduated in December so I didn't intend to actively look for a job until after I got married the following June. Dave found a job in a nearby county at the midterm and I moved back home. Dave's job wasn't a great situation and definitely not a long term place to be, but sufficed for gaining experience and making his resume more attractive for better jobs later. We got married and I fully intended to find a job as a band director somewhere.
It just so happened that a job opened up in the same county where Dave was working. The job was supposed to be a travelling job between two middle schools. Half the day would be at one school teaching band to 5-8 graders and the other half of the day would be at the other middle school doing the same. It wasn't ideal, but these were small schools and splitting the day between them was doable. I applied for the job and got an interview.
This interview was one of the most bizarre experiences of my life. It began as a normal interview where they ask me questions and I answer them, but then over the course of the conversation it became clear that their job requirements were quite a bit different than what they had advertised. After they secured my interview, they had apparently talked to the high school band director, who was also the chorus teacher, and she saw an opportunity to create a better position for herself. She wanted to dump the high school band and only do chorus. The position for which I was interviewing was now going to be a travelling position between three middle schools bands and the high school band. This information was never clearly presented to me and I had to piece together what was going on from my questions and the conversations between the interviewers of which there were four or five. Four bands at four different schools with marching band on top of it was a lot of responsibility for a new graduate with no experience and it scared me. Even though it was at least double the work of the original job description, the pay would be exactly the same, under 20K a year. But worse than the change in job expectations was that they expected me to unconditionally accept the job on the spot. No, they didn't expect me to accept on the spot because they never asked me if I wanted the job. Acceptance was a foregone conclusion. They began immediately filling out paperwork during the course of the interview and then when they finished talking to me, when you would normally expect to exchange pleasantries and leave, they walked me over to the personnel secretary and walked away. I am now alone with the secretary who asks for my identification and my address and lists the forms I need to bring back to her. I am standing there stunned. What just happened here?
I return to my car where Dave has been waiting for me wondering what was taking so long. I promptly meltdown. Over the next 24 hours, I basically have an existential crisis. I said I wanted to be a band director, but this job completely frightens me. It is so much responsibility and I know there would be zero support from the school. I would have to do it all, all the time, for four schools! I had no confidence I could do it or that I even wanted to do it. I looked at the challenge and only wanted to run away. After a long and late discussion, Dave tells me that if this isn't the job I want to take, it was okay with him if I call and decline it.
The next day I called and told them I would not be accepting the job. The man I spoke to was not happy and I got a lecture about professionalism or something which was particularly galling considering the nature of the interview the previous day. How dare I not allow them to railroad me into an overwhelming job in terrible working conditions! This position was a job for two or perhaps three people and they expected that the new college graduate with no experience would be desperate enough to take it and they could fill all these openings on the cheap. They thought wrong.
It soon became clear that Dave was going to reap the ire of their discontent with me and we decided we needed to get out of Crazyville.
Here's Part II.
I graduated in December so I didn't intend to actively look for a job until after I got married the following June. Dave found a job in a nearby county at the midterm and I moved back home. Dave's job wasn't a great situation and definitely not a long term place to be, but sufficed for gaining experience and making his resume more attractive for better jobs later. We got married and I fully intended to find a job as a band director somewhere.
It just so happened that a job opened up in the same county where Dave was working. The job was supposed to be a travelling job between two middle schools. Half the day would be at one school teaching band to 5-8 graders and the other half of the day would be at the other middle school doing the same. It wasn't ideal, but these were small schools and splitting the day between them was doable. I applied for the job and got an interview.
This interview was one of the most bizarre experiences of my life. It began as a normal interview where they ask me questions and I answer them, but then over the course of the conversation it became clear that their job requirements were quite a bit different than what they had advertised. After they secured my interview, they had apparently talked to the high school band director, who was also the chorus teacher, and she saw an opportunity to create a better position for herself. She wanted to dump the high school band and only do chorus. The position for which I was interviewing was now going to be a travelling position between three middle schools bands and the high school band. This information was never clearly presented to me and I had to piece together what was going on from my questions and the conversations between the interviewers of which there were four or five. Four bands at four different schools with marching band on top of it was a lot of responsibility for a new graduate with no experience and it scared me. Even though it was at least double the work of the original job description, the pay would be exactly the same, under 20K a year. But worse than the change in job expectations was that they expected me to unconditionally accept the job on the spot. No, they didn't expect me to accept on the spot because they never asked me if I wanted the job. Acceptance was a foregone conclusion. They began immediately filling out paperwork during the course of the interview and then when they finished talking to me, when you would normally expect to exchange pleasantries and leave, they walked me over to the personnel secretary and walked away. I am now alone with the secretary who asks for my identification and my address and lists the forms I need to bring back to her. I am standing there stunned. What just happened here?
I return to my car where Dave has been waiting for me wondering what was taking so long. I promptly meltdown. Over the next 24 hours, I basically have an existential crisis. I said I wanted to be a band director, but this job completely frightens me. It is so much responsibility and I know there would be zero support from the school. I would have to do it all, all the time, for four schools! I had no confidence I could do it or that I even wanted to do it. I looked at the challenge and only wanted to run away. After a long and late discussion, Dave tells me that if this isn't the job I want to take, it was okay with him if I call and decline it.
The next day I called and told them I would not be accepting the job. The man I spoke to was not happy and I got a lecture about professionalism or something which was particularly galling considering the nature of the interview the previous day. How dare I not allow them to railroad me into an overwhelming job in terrible working conditions! This position was a job for two or perhaps three people and they expected that the new college graduate with no experience would be desperate enough to take it and they could fill all these openings on the cheap. They thought wrong.
It soon became clear that Dave was going to reap the ire of their discontent with me and we decided we needed to get out of Crazyville.
Here's Part II.
Thursday, September 11, 2014
The Paradox of Music Lessons
Since Dave and I both graduated from college with Bachelor of Music degrees, we always assumed that, of course, our children would have music lessons from an early age. In my pre-child mind's eye, each child would begin piano lessons at age six or seven and progress onward from there. In reality, this just hasn't happened. I feel mildly guilty about this state of affairs. Of course, it helps that only one child is really old enough for individual instrument lessons.
The crux of the issue is the cost of the lessons. The sad fact is we could probably scrimp and afford to have one child in lessons. Two children in lessons is out of the question. We will eventually have four children in need of lessons. There is a local studio that offers lessons for $94 a month. It adds up quick.
So for awhile, I had the thought that I would give them beginning piano lessons myself. Piano is not my major instrument and, the piano proficiency required to graduate aside, I am not a piano player. I am a hack at best. When I say hack, I don't mean what people say when they can basically play but it isn't performance level. I mean slowly, badly, painfully while looking at my fingers hack. Tempo: Largo. But I do know enough for beginning piano.
There isn't enough room in our house for a piano so we bought a keyboard and put it in the only place it would fit, the corner of my bedroom. In front of the keyboard is a pile of the girls' work from school and actually accessing the keyboard is difficult. Cleaning up the pile has been on a low priority for a long time. Over a year. Possibly two. Until that pile is cleaned, I don't really see a way for me to either give a lesson or for them to take a lesson. Logistics are troublesome.
The interesting paradox with the music lessons is that same studio approached me looking for a clarinet teacher. They were willing to pay me $12 a lesson. I have a college degree in clarinet; my expertise is worth more than $12. I am not willing to work for that amount. I find it mildly insulting. High school kids can command $10 a lesson. I declined the offer. It is not worth the trouble for such a piddling amount of money.
The irony is I cannot afford to pay what would be necessary for me to be willing to give lessons. I cannot afford myself. I want my children to have music lessons and I also want music professionals to be given the financial consideration they deserve in light of their qualifications. These ideas are mutually exclusive at my house. Maybe I'll get that pile cleaned up soon.
The crux of the issue is the cost of the lessons. The sad fact is we could probably scrimp and afford to have one child in lessons. Two children in lessons is out of the question. We will eventually have four children in need of lessons. There is a local studio that offers lessons for $94 a month. It adds up quick.
So for awhile, I had the thought that I would give them beginning piano lessons myself. Piano is not my major instrument and, the piano proficiency required to graduate aside, I am not a piano player. I am a hack at best. When I say hack, I don't mean what people say when they can basically play but it isn't performance level. I mean slowly, badly, painfully while looking at my fingers hack. Tempo: Largo. But I do know enough for beginning piano.
There isn't enough room in our house for a piano so we bought a keyboard and put it in the only place it would fit, the corner of my bedroom. In front of the keyboard is a pile of the girls' work from school and actually accessing the keyboard is difficult. Cleaning up the pile has been on a low priority for a long time. Over a year. Possibly two. Until that pile is cleaned, I don't really see a way for me to either give a lesson or for them to take a lesson. Logistics are troublesome.
The interesting paradox with the music lessons is that same studio approached me looking for a clarinet teacher. They were willing to pay me $12 a lesson. I have a college degree in clarinet; my expertise is worth more than $12. I am not willing to work for that amount. I find it mildly insulting. High school kids can command $10 a lesson. I declined the offer. It is not worth the trouble for such a piddling amount of money.
The irony is I cannot afford to pay what would be necessary for me to be willing to give lessons. I cannot afford myself. I want my children to have music lessons and I also want music professionals to be given the financial consideration they deserve in light of their qualifications. These ideas are mutually exclusive at my house. Maybe I'll get that pile cleaned up soon.
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