Monday, November 17, 2003
MY BRILLIANT CAREERS (1D)
I thought I was free. I was awake and on my second cup of coffee and the phone hadn't rung. Then it rang.
"Babbingham here. Can you do music for the elementary schools today? Miss Dissonance fell down this morning. She's in a bad way."
"Elementary schools?"
Babbingham was exasperated with me. "You do Chang in the morning and Eng in the afternoon. It's quite simple really."
"I can do it."
"You'll have to hurry. They're expecting you in 15 minutes."
"Great," I said. "No problem."
AN OBSERVATION
"You know," I said. "This school system is a mess. Pure chaos. They have two people calling the subs when everyone knows it's a one-woman job. They hire someone named Dissonance, of all things, to teach music, then she falls down. And the schools are named after sideshow freaks. They should really get their act together."
"Her name is Di'Santinence, not Dissonance. And you better hurry; Chang is way out at the end of the township. Practically in the next county."
"Great," I said. "No problem."
CAN I OR ANYONE KNOW
"The music room is at the other end of the school. Go all the way down this corridor, make a left, follow that corridor to the end, make one more left and you'll see the music room from there. The teachers will bring the students to class."
"Great," I said. My head was beginning to throb.
"Here are your instructions. Just follow this copy of the lesson plan."
THURSDAY: Oats, Peas, Beans and Barley Grow. Class sing-a-along and activity. Students in row 4 will take turns being the farmer.
"Excuse me," I said to the office woman. "I don't have an insurance waiver."
"A what?"
"An insurance waiver. Can I touch the equipment?"
She looked at me with puzzlement, then crinkled her nose in disgust. "I don't understand. Why would you need an insurance waiver to play music? If you didn't want to sub, why did you take the job at all? Is that why you're so late? You really didn't want this job, did you?"
"Oh no," I said. "I really wanted this job."
She shook her head. "Well, if you really want to work, you better hurry. Second bell has already rung."
"Before I go, can you explain what this means - about the farmer?" I pointed to the lesson plan.
"I'm sure I could not," she said. "But the students have been working on this all week. They’ll know what to do if you can’t figure it out."
A PROUSTIAN MOMENT
The students were seated, waiting for me. Their classroom teacher stood in the doorway, arms folded across her chest. "You are very late," she hissed. "Miss Di'Santinence is never late."
"Miss Di'Santinence is not here," I said. "She’s fallen."
"I'm aware of that," the teacher said. "And so are the children. They are all very upset. Please try not to upset them further." And off she stalked.
"Good morning, class," I said. "How is everyone?"
Nothing.
I looked around. There was a record on my desk: "Children's Stories For A Rainy Day." Next to the desk was a fabric-covered sawed-off suitcase looking thing, which I recognized as a record player. It looked exactly like the one my own grade school music teacher had traveled with as she visited class after class and subjected us to endless playings of The Alley Cat. I fought back a quick wave of nausea at the recollection.
The children were staring at me expectantly, but I didn’t want to touch the thing. Finally, I swallowed hard, lifted it on the desk and opened it up cautiously.
The cord was so frayed I was tempted to ask for a student volunteer to plug it in.
I put on Oats, Peas. The children began to sing along. Loudly. Unselfconsciously. A wall of sound that would have made Phil Spector proud. My head was pounding. It was just after eight in the morning.
Although I had been familiar with the chorus, it had never occurred to me that there were actual verses. It was a revelation:
Verse 1:
First the farmer sows his seed,
Stands erect and takes his ease,
He stamps his foot and claps his hands,
And turns around to view his lands.
I thought the sowing the seed and the standing erect were a little suggestive. Was there a hidden subtext?
If there was, the children didn’t notice. The residents of row 4 were taking turns acting out the farmer role as I played the song over and over.
Verse 2:
Next the farmer waters the seed
Stands erect and takes his ease,
He stamps his foot and claps his hands
And turns around to view his lands.
The sowing, stamping, clapping, and standing erect went on unabated. I felt a twitch at my temple, my vein was throbbing. I wondered if it was the onset of a stroke.
Verse 3:
Next the farmer hoes the weeds,
Stands erect and takes his ease,
He stamps his foot and claps his hands,
And turns around to view his lands.
I thought of my grandmother, dead now for some years. What would she think if she could see me now?
Verse 4:
Last the farmer harvests his seed
Stands erect and takes his ease,
He stamps his foot and claps his hands,
And turns around to view his lands.
We finished the rounds with a few minutes to spare.
LOW BRIDGE, EVERYBODY DOWN!
“How about I play another song now?” I asked.
“But we don’t know the other songs,” a little girl in the first row protested.
“All the better,” I said. “We could learn something new,”
A dozen hands went up.
“We aren’t supposed to learn a new song today.”
“No.”
“No.”
"No."
“We have to sing ‘Oats Peas Beans and Barley Grow’ today.”
“I’m going to play ‘Erie Canal,’” I said. “And there’s nothing you can do about it.”
Mrs. Stalkoff arrived to collect her class. They were solemn, sitting at attention, some with quivering lips.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Not a thing,” I said. “We’re just listening to a new song.”
RAW POWER
Like all petty tyrants, I was quick to abuse my authority. By the third class of the morning I was smirking and threatening.
“If you don’t want to listen to ‘Erie Canal’ I can go to my car and get my ‘Funhouse’ tape. How about if I play ‘TV Eye’ for you? Would you like that? I thought not.”
So, in that fashion, I got through the morning music classes at the Chang school. My head had even begun to clear a bit. The cannonading in my skull had subsided to a dull roar.
I was sort of looking forward to the afternoon session over at Eng.
I thought I was free. I was awake and on my second cup of coffee and the phone hadn't rung. Then it rang.
"Babbingham here. Can you do music for the elementary schools today? Miss Dissonance fell down this morning. She's in a bad way."
"Elementary schools?"
Babbingham was exasperated with me. "You do Chang in the morning and Eng in the afternoon. It's quite simple really."
"I can do it."
"You'll have to hurry. They're expecting you in 15 minutes."
"Great," I said. "No problem."
AN OBSERVATION
"You know," I said. "This school system is a mess. Pure chaos. They have two people calling the subs when everyone knows it's a one-woman job. They hire someone named Dissonance, of all things, to teach music, then she falls down. And the schools are named after sideshow freaks. They should really get their act together."
"Her name is Di'Santinence, not Dissonance. And you better hurry; Chang is way out at the end of the township. Practically in the next county."
"Great," I said. "No problem."
CAN I OR ANYONE KNOW
"The music room is at the other end of the school. Go all the way down this corridor, make a left, follow that corridor to the end, make one more left and you'll see the music room from there. The teachers will bring the students to class."
"Great," I said. My head was beginning to throb.
"Here are your instructions. Just follow this copy of the lesson plan."
THURSDAY: Oats, Peas, Beans and Barley Grow. Class sing-a-along and activity. Students in row 4 will take turns being the farmer.
"Excuse me," I said to the office woman. "I don't have an insurance waiver."
"A what?"
"An insurance waiver. Can I touch the equipment?"
She looked at me with puzzlement, then crinkled her nose in disgust. "I don't understand. Why would you need an insurance waiver to play music? If you didn't want to sub, why did you take the job at all? Is that why you're so late? You really didn't want this job, did you?"
"Oh no," I said. "I really wanted this job."
She shook her head. "Well, if you really want to work, you better hurry. Second bell has already rung."
"Before I go, can you explain what this means - about the farmer?" I pointed to the lesson plan.
"I'm sure I could not," she said. "But the students have been working on this all week. They’ll know what to do if you can’t figure it out."
A PROUSTIAN MOMENT
The students were seated, waiting for me. Their classroom teacher stood in the doorway, arms folded across her chest. "You are very late," she hissed. "Miss Di'Santinence is never late."
"Miss Di'Santinence is not here," I said. "She’s fallen."
"I'm aware of that," the teacher said. "And so are the children. They are all very upset. Please try not to upset them further." And off she stalked.
"Good morning, class," I said. "How is everyone?"
Nothing.
I looked around. There was a record on my desk: "Children's Stories For A Rainy Day." Next to the desk was a fabric-covered sawed-off suitcase looking thing, which I recognized as a record player. It looked exactly like the one my own grade school music teacher had traveled with as she visited class after class and subjected us to endless playings of The Alley Cat. I fought back a quick wave of nausea at the recollection.
The children were staring at me expectantly, but I didn’t want to touch the thing. Finally, I swallowed hard, lifted it on the desk and opened it up cautiously.
The cord was so frayed I was tempted to ask for a student volunteer to plug it in.
I put on Oats, Peas. The children began to sing along. Loudly. Unselfconsciously. A wall of sound that would have made Phil Spector proud. My head was pounding. It was just after eight in the morning.
Although I had been familiar with the chorus, it had never occurred to me that there were actual verses. It was a revelation:
Verse 1:
First the farmer sows his seed,
Stands erect and takes his ease,
He stamps his foot and claps his hands,
And turns around to view his lands.
I thought the sowing the seed and the standing erect were a little suggestive. Was there a hidden subtext?
If there was, the children didn’t notice. The residents of row 4 were taking turns acting out the farmer role as I played the song over and over.
Verse 2:
Next the farmer waters the seed
Stands erect and takes his ease,
He stamps his foot and claps his hands
And turns around to view his lands.
The sowing, stamping, clapping, and standing erect went on unabated. I felt a twitch at my temple, my vein was throbbing. I wondered if it was the onset of a stroke.
Verse 3:
Next the farmer hoes the weeds,
Stands erect and takes his ease,
He stamps his foot and claps his hands,
And turns around to view his lands.
I thought of my grandmother, dead now for some years. What would she think if she could see me now?
Verse 4:
Last the farmer harvests his seed
Stands erect and takes his ease,
He stamps his foot and claps his hands,
And turns around to view his lands.
We finished the rounds with a few minutes to spare.
LOW BRIDGE, EVERYBODY DOWN!
“How about I play another song now?” I asked.
“But we don’t know the other songs,” a little girl in the first row protested.
“All the better,” I said. “We could learn something new,”
A dozen hands went up.
“We aren’t supposed to learn a new song today.”
“No.”
“No.”
"No."
“We have to sing ‘Oats Peas Beans and Barley Grow’ today.”
“I’m going to play ‘Erie Canal,’” I said. “And there’s nothing you can do about it.”
Mrs. Stalkoff arrived to collect her class. They were solemn, sitting at attention, some with quivering lips.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Not a thing,” I said. “We’re just listening to a new song.”
RAW POWER
Like all petty tyrants, I was quick to abuse my authority. By the third class of the morning I was smirking and threatening.
“If you don’t want to listen to ‘Erie Canal’ I can go to my car and get my ‘Funhouse’ tape. How about if I play ‘TV Eye’ for you? Would you like that? I thought not.”
So, in that fashion, I got through the morning music classes at the Chang school. My head had even begun to clear a bit. The cannonading in my skull had subsided to a dull roar.
I was sort of looking forward to the afternoon session over at Eng.
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