This year I have discovered the joy of blogs, Big Time. Not the writing of them, though that has been fun to do, but the browsing of them. Every evening, instead of watching the television screen, I am glued to the lap-top screen, catching up on all my favourite writers.
I have listed them at the side of this blog, I have filled up my "favourites" bar with them, filing them under different headings.
I trawl through from one blog's blog-list to the next, irritating the rest of the family by reading out bits or suddenly laughing out loud.
What I would really like is for all my favourite blog posts to make themselves into a daily on-line magazine so that with one click, I could have my own daily paper to read and enjoy.
I shall be consulting with my own tech-support team when we are together for Easter.
If they find a way for me to create my magazine, I'll share it here.
Saturday, 31 March 2012
Saturday 31st March - Hands up, all you happy clappers
I've tripped across this wonderful video while browsing from blog to blog.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1KXbva6M6fY
I'm a hands-in-my-pocket type, myself - shift from foot to foot, flap my elbows a little.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1KXbva6M6fY
I'm a hands-in-my-pocket type, myself - shift from foot to foot, flap my elbows a little.
Wednesday, 28 March 2012
Wednesday 28th March - So that's what's wrong
I've been driving around the country lanes all day in brilliant, hot sunshine. The temperature in my car has been around 86F (it's an Italian car - doesn't "do" Centigrade or Celsius or any of that new-fangled stuff).
The skies have been a clear, Summer's blue, the fields are mostly green (full of cows and sheeps, and occasionally, llamas).
But something has felt very weird about the countryside; it has been worrying me all day.
Then I realised what the problem was; all the trees are completely bare of leaves, apart from willows and hawthorns. It is as if a dreadful disease has killed all the oaks and beeches, sycamores and ash trees that normally line the lanes.
Of course! It's only March - still early Spring. Weird.
The skies have been a clear, Summer's blue, the fields are mostly green (full of cows and sheeps, and occasionally, llamas).
But something has felt very weird about the countryside; it has been worrying me all day.
Then I realised what the problem was; all the trees are completely bare of leaves, apart from willows and hawthorns. It is as if a dreadful disease has killed all the oaks and beeches, sycamores and ash trees that normally line the lanes.
Of course! It's only March - still early Spring. Weird.
Tuesday, 27 March 2012
Tuesday 27th March - Daylight Robbery - Stamps to cost 50p!
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| image from wikipedia |
I have taken up letter-writing in a big way since last Summer. Well, post-card writing would be more truthful. I write at least one every week, and sometimes two or three. I am also making a real effort to send cards to friends and relatives who have birthdays.
Today I picked up a tweet announcing that the price of a stamp is to go up to 50p for second class! Hang on a minute; that is ten shillings in "old" money!
To think that we started with the penny post - that's less than half a penny in "new" money.
Let's do another sum; we usually send about 60 Christmas cards through the post every year; at 36p for second class that is around £22, give or take a bit for the couple of foreign addresses. Now that will rise to a whopping £30, in stamps alone.
Well, hey, we can send everyone all singing-and-dancing Jacquie Lawson e-cards for the price for a yearly subscription - or just send everyone an e-mail for free.
I shall be collecting the e-mail addresses of friends and relatives this year in time for Christmas.
Hang on a minute - if we all do that, the Post office will make more of a loss, and will have to put up prices....
Sunday, 25 March 2012
Sunday 25th March - It's WAR
Well, actually, it's Spring, but WAR and Spring are pretty much the same thing as far as the weeds are concerned. Why does goose-grass exist, anyway? What eats it - geese? But if I invested in a flock of geese, what would they eat after all the goose-grass was finished? Could they be relied upon to move on to brambles, couch-grass and rose-bay willow herb in due course, or would they develop a taste for Nigella - (Love-in-a-mist, not Lawson) and Aquilegia? Here is the kind of thing that I am doing battle with;
Extreme gardening is a pastime that I usually go for in the Summer holidays. I pay myself £10 per hour to clear the weeks, but today was a fore-taste of Summer, so the season of War and Devastation has started early.
I reckon I owe myself £15.
Extreme gardening is a pastime that I usually go for in the Summer holidays. I pay myself £10 per hour to clear the weeks, but today was a fore-taste of Summer, so the season of War and Devastation has started early.
I reckon I owe myself £15.
Thursday, 22 March 2012
Wednesday 21st - Piano lessons disrupted by unfortunate events
Last night's piano lessons were not the model of approximate excellence that I usually strive for; the first lesson passed without incident, but that was as far as anything went. Partway through listening and watching a hesitant, but steadily improving journey through "Suite de la Rejouissance", my attention was distracted by a violent eruption of activity just outside the french windows. A blur of writhing brown fur finally resolved itself into one of our cats being thoroughly incommoded by a visiting spaniel which had made its way in through one of the many holes in the hedge.
I abandoned the young lad at the piano to his own devices while I shot into the garden yelling "that's my cat" at the top of my voice. The dog looked up at me as though I was mad, and the cat made good use of the distraction to leg it for the neighbour's garden. "Gerrr-ow-tov-it" I shouted at the dog, who gave me what Paddington Bear would have called "a hard stare" and loped away, exiting unhesitatingly through the same hole that he had used for his entrance.
There was no sound of music from the piano any more; the pupil is a handy lad, so I called him into the garden, and together we wrestled a piece of wooden trellis over one of the holes in the hedge, wedged the wrought iron back gate shut with a handy fence post, and blocked another hole in the rotten fence panel with a spare concrete paving stone.
Job done, we returned to the piano, and made a careful assault upon "the Sandman" for the last few minutes. Next week I shall try and encourage a slightly less martial interpretation of this famous lullaby.
The cat returned partway through the next lesson; I broke off teaching a Blues Prelude for a minute or so just to check the cat for injury. There didn't appear to be too much wrong with her; rather a lot of loose fur, and a horrible amount of spaniel slobber, so I merely washed my hands and continued with the lesson.
Hey - come to me for piano lessons; you never know what you might end up learning...
I abandoned the young lad at the piano to his own devices while I shot into the garden yelling "that's my cat" at the top of my voice. The dog looked up at me as though I was mad, and the cat made good use of the distraction to leg it for the neighbour's garden. "Gerrr-ow-tov-it" I shouted at the dog, who gave me what Paddington Bear would have called "a hard stare" and loped away, exiting unhesitatingly through the same hole that he had used for his entrance.
There was no sound of music from the piano any more; the pupil is a handy lad, so I called him into the garden, and together we wrestled a piece of wooden trellis over one of the holes in the hedge, wedged the wrought iron back gate shut with a handy fence post, and blocked another hole in the rotten fence panel with a spare concrete paving stone.
Job done, we returned to the piano, and made a careful assault upon "the Sandman" for the last few minutes. Next week I shall try and encourage a slightly less martial interpretation of this famous lullaby.
The cat returned partway through the next lesson; I broke off teaching a Blues Prelude for a minute or so just to check the cat for injury. There didn't appear to be too much wrong with her; rather a lot of loose fur, and a horrible amount of spaniel slobber, so I merely washed my hands and continued with the lesson.
Hey - come to me for piano lessons; you never know what you might end up learning...
Tuesday, 20 March 2012
Monday Evening - Rubbish television, so do something useful
Every room in our house, except possibly the bathroom, has to fulfil at least two and sometimes far too many functions. Bedrooms also double as studies, the kitchen is also the laundry and the place where the cats sleep at night; the hall is a boot room and storage space for various musical instruments. We do more than sit in the sitting-room - it's where we eat most meals as well, and that's because the so-called dining room is also the music room and my study.
Eating off the dining table is usually an impossibility - because it usually looks like this:
I challenged myself to get the table cleared in the time it takes to listen to one CD, as there was nothing to watch on television, and have to say that the sate of the dining room was beginning to get me down. It actually took the whole of Ravel's "Mother Goose Suite" and also Steeleye Span's "All around my hat" to get the table cleared as far as this;
Eating off the dining table is usually an impossibility - because it usually looks like this:
I challenged myself to get the table cleared in the time it takes to listen to one CD, as there was nothing to watch on television, and have to say that the sate of the dining room was beginning to get me down. It actually took the whole of Ravel's "Mother Goose Suite" and also Steeleye Span's "All around my hat" to get the table cleared as far as this;
which is a starling improvement. However, twenty-four hours later, there is a risk that this state of affairs may be all too temporary, unless I stir myself to clear away everything that has landed back on the table top already.
The next challenge is the glory hole beside the piano. It is a good thing that Ofsted has not managed to insinuate its tentacles into the realm of private music teachers as I would fail at the first hurdle for simply having an untidy house. I reckon it will take the length of the complete unaccompanied cello suites of Bach to get this lot sorted.
Sunday, 18 March 2012
Sunday 18th March - The Last Survivors (I'm talking about houseplants!)
We have four, and only four, houseplants in this house. There were more in the past. The lucky ones have moved to my mother's house, where they receive tender loving care, regular and appropriate quantities of water and even plant food. The unlucky ones are now compost.
Our spider plant has been with us for decades. Every so often it decides to procreate, and lots of little tiny spider plantlets appear. These have been redistributed. They made a Sunday School activity (a dozen little plantlets were prodded into plastic cups of earth and sent home, in illustration of some scriptural concept or other - with a little thought they can demonstrate all sorts of biblical basics. Another brood were donated to an art student's project; she planted them all into the seat of an upholstered dining chair... (art?)
One of my daughter's friends presented me with a baby aloe vera plant in a yoghurt pot about fifteen years ago. Every so often it, too, suddenly sprouts little baby plants. Experience has taught me that if I don't do something about the over-crowding fairly soon, Mother Vera will solve the problem by breaking the pot - again.
I was given a pink begonia by a music pupil. I think it was back in November.My heart sank as I thanked the giver, because I knew its chances of survival were slim. The last couple of begonias couldn't cope with a regime of alternating abundance and scarcity of water, and eventually died of dehydration, rot or despair. This one is still hanging in there... looking a little drunk, leaning dangerously close to the breakmaking machine.
And this is the newest arrvial; a sweet little tin jug full of campanula. Fingers crossed....
Our spider plant has been with us for decades. Every so often it decides to procreate, and lots of little tiny spider plantlets appear. These have been redistributed. They made a Sunday School activity (a dozen little plantlets were prodded into plastic cups of earth and sent home, in illustration of some scriptural concept or other - with a little thought they can demonstrate all sorts of biblical basics. Another brood were donated to an art student's project; she planted them all into the seat of an upholstered dining chair... (art?)
One of my daughter's friends presented me with a baby aloe vera plant in a yoghurt pot about fifteen years ago. Every so often it, too, suddenly sprouts little baby plants. Experience has taught me that if I don't do something about the over-crowding fairly soon, Mother Vera will solve the problem by breaking the pot - again.
And this is the newest arrvial; a sweet little tin jug full of campanula. Fingers crossed....
Saturday, 17 March 2012
Saturday 17th March - a self-indulgent day
I do feel a bit of a fraud; I have spent the whole day idling; upstairs all morning with the "upstairs cat" for company, and downstairs all afternoon (with the "downstairs cat" beside me - we had a brief disagreement about whether my lap was for a cat or a laptop but we are friends again now).
I have found that there is so much going on, so much happening every day, that life is whizzing past at a scary rate, and things that are important and that I want to remember just get overwritten by the next day. It wasn't until I counted up the months on my fingers that I realised that our October trip was five months - half a year - ago, and that 2012 is nearly into its second quarter, and that the Easter holidays are only two weeks ago...
Saturday 17th March - Down-time
Okay, I confess. I should have gone to the doctor last week, or maybe the week before, but I wasn't "properly" ill, and every day is so full of teaching and travelling, that an appointment for, say, 11am, could knock out an entire day, and cause endless scheduling problems for the next thre months in order to manage fitting in all the make-up lessons. So which causes more stress and hassle? A cough that doesn't go away and wakes me up every other night, or finding cover for a whole day and messing up the teaching timetables and letting down children and colleagues who are preparing for school concerts and exams....
I called round at the surgery when the doors opened yesterday, and was told that there were no appointments and my requests would go to "triage" (they are two doctors down, off ill). Later, I was allocated an appointment for 2:20 pm (that means cancel three recorder classes, but at least Friday is a day when I am working in my home town as opposed to up to thirty miles away). In, listen to my chest, and out, with a prescription for antibiotics and a diagnosis of a chest infection, and advice to clear the decks for at least the weekend.
Hey! Didn't I just say that I'm not "properly" ill? However, what's the point of seeing a doctor if you don't do as they say. I have cancelled three hours of Friday night teaching (six phone calls), two hours of Saturday morning teaching (one phone call), and am trying to find a replacement organist for Sunday morning (three emails so far). Whoever said that the weekend was for having a rest.?
Husband and daughter have taken over, and in order to ensure that I stay upstairs in bed they have kindly brought up my laptop, phone and Kindle reader.
And the cat.
But I don't feel "properly" ill!
I called round at the surgery when the doors opened yesterday, and was told that there were no appointments and my requests would go to "triage" (they are two doctors down, off ill). Later, I was allocated an appointment for 2:20 pm (that means cancel three recorder classes, but at least Friday is a day when I am working in my home town as opposed to up to thirty miles away). In, listen to my chest, and out, with a prescription for antibiotics and a diagnosis of a chest infection, and advice to clear the decks for at least the weekend.
Hey! Didn't I just say that I'm not "properly" ill? However, what's the point of seeing a doctor if you don't do as they say. I have cancelled three hours of Friday night teaching (six phone calls), two hours of Saturday morning teaching (one phone call), and am trying to find a replacement organist for Sunday morning (three emails so far). Whoever said that the weekend was for having a rest.?
Husband and daughter have taken over, and in order to ensure that I stay upstairs in bed they have kindly brought up my laptop, phone and Kindle reader.
But I don't feel "properly" ill!
Friday, 16 March 2012
Friday 16th March - Coffee in a time of Power cuts
Last weekend we kept having power cuts. It is extrordinary how one suddenly thinks "oh, well, I'll do some ironing if I can't watch television", and similar ideas all involving electricity-related activities. I did have one happy thought; I have a storm-kettle; a piece of kit which is almost entirely irrelevant to modern life, but is of such beautiful simplicity that I couldn't resist it. You can see where the water goes in; the genius is that the container is ring-doughnut shaped, so that the centre is actually a chimkney for the fire which you can see glowing in the fire tray at the bottom. A few dry twigs and leaves will provide enough heat to rapidly boil a pint or so of water, as the heat is all drawn up through the central chimney.
The
Well, I thought the easiest way to fill the storm kettle would be to use the kettle. However, as I reached over to lift it, I switched it on (a sort of automatic action) and it burst into life. So I let carry on and made the coffee the easy way. Oh well. No playing with fire today - just have to wait until next time.
TheWell, I thought the easiest way to fill the storm kettle would be to use the kettle. However, as I reached over to lift it, I switched it on (a sort of automatic action) and it burst into life. So I let carry on and made the coffee the easy way. Oh well. No playing with fire today - just have to wait until next time.
Sunday, 11 March 2012
Sunday March 11th - experimental uploading
I chose to use blogger instead of Livejournal becuase of all the difficulties I had with getting pictured into my posts. At the moment I go through several hoops to get pictures from my phone to the PC and then into my posts; but I have just spotted an option to upload directly from my phone. So here goes;
......
Well, that was exciting. I pressed "cancel" rather than "install", as I need to think about it. It is a Google+ app, that will take control of a whole load more of my life. I expect I will probably go ahead, (line of least resistance) but for the moment I'll continue to jump through the hoops.
Here are the pictures that I thought I would post;
Rosemary shrubs in flower above the Quarry Carpark in Guildford last Saturday
Tiny daffodils and irises by the front door
......
Well, that was exciting. I pressed "cancel" rather than "install", as I need to think about it. It is a Google+ app, that will take control of a whole load more of my life. I expect I will probably go ahead, (line of least resistance) but for the moment I'll continue to jump through the hoops.
Here are the pictures that I thought I would post;
Rosemary shrubs in flower above the Quarry Carpark in Guildford last SaturdayTiny daffodils and irises by the front door
Sunday 11th March - Letter writing
I have been browsing blogs in the evenings - there are millions and millions of them (yes, yes I did know that already). I have searched in different categories, and last night I searched for "letter writing blogs". There are a lot of people out there who are great afficionados of real letters arriving through real letterboxes. A number of them are in the middle of letter-writing projects; to write a letter every day, or every week. Some of them put up a photograph of the card they have used. There is one blogger who writes a complete back-story about the relationship between herself and the recipient of the letter. Fortunately this back-story is always (at least so far this year) in the most glowing and rose-tinted language. Just imagine the possibilities....
"Today I have chosen to write to Esmeralda" (name chosen at random, any likeness to any person, living or dead, purely unintentional and accidental). Anyway, to continue my hypothetical letter to a hypothetical person "I have known her forever, at least for the last twenty years, and I am writing to tell her that I think she is just so......"
now, the rest of this paragraph could go either way. Is Esmeralda a paragon of virtue who is going to get a beautiful hand-crafted and personally embellished letter extolling all the ways that she has made the world a better place? Or will she receive a brutal dissection of all the imperfections of her character, a list of all the slights, snubs and crimes she has perpetrated against the writer, on a nasty card which has been spat on (or worse!) before being sealed with a sneer into its envelope?
Do you know, on the whole, I would prefer not to receive either letter? If I am as perfect as Esmeralda version 1, then a gushing epistle is the last thing that I would appreciate, and if I am as dastardly as Esmeralda verion 2, I would feel myself justified in taking any form of revenge I cared to imagine.
However, I do like writing letters, and send a couple of letters every week. Here are some of this week's; another two have already gone. There is quite an art to arranging them in the photograph so that the addresses all remain confidential. I have had to resort to a bit of trickery - the top "postcard" is actually a photograph taken by - well, he will know who he is - and I hope he doesn't mind that I have used it. Perhaps I'll write him a letter on the back, and send it to him with the others, by way of acknowledgement.
"Today I have chosen to write to Esmeralda" (name chosen at random, any likeness to any person, living or dead, purely unintentional and accidental). Anyway, to continue my hypothetical letter to a hypothetical person "I have known her forever, at least for the last twenty years, and I am writing to tell her that I think she is just so......"
now, the rest of this paragraph could go either way. Is Esmeralda a paragon of virtue who is going to get a beautiful hand-crafted and personally embellished letter extolling all the ways that she has made the world a better place? Or will she receive a brutal dissection of all the imperfections of her character, a list of all the slights, snubs and crimes she has perpetrated against the writer, on a nasty card which has been spat on (or worse!) before being sealed with a sneer into its envelope?
Do you know, on the whole, I would prefer not to receive either letter? If I am as perfect as Esmeralda version 1, then a gushing epistle is the last thing that I would appreciate, and if I am as dastardly as Esmeralda verion 2, I would feel myself justified in taking any form of revenge I cared to imagine.
Saturday, 10 March 2012
Saturday 10th March - Niagara Falls and Ukuleles
These topics have nothing in common, except they are in the same post!
Niagara - just a quick paragraph, hardly longer than the length of time of the film in the travel show on television last night (or maybe the night before?) where the presenters visited Tenerife, some other place or other, and NIAGARA! Well, actually Toronto, and a vineyard where they make Icewine, and Niagara Falls all in the final three minutes of the programme. It was lovely to see the falls again; a quick overhead shot from a helicopter, a few enthused sentences about the sound of the falls and how wet it was and awesome, and then a clearly mind-blown response after experiencing the Maid of the Mist boat trip. It brought it all back - the trip must have been filmed at a similar time of year to when we were out there last October, as it was a bright, clear, warm, but not bakingly hot day.
or And the ukulele? I took my little red uke to the Early Years music lessons I teach on Saturday morning, and was enchanted to find that the half-dozen 5-year olds that come to the first class could all manage to play the simplest chord (C - just one finger) and strum along, in time, to the song that I taught them. We spent most of the lesson taking turns and footling about with the ukulele - just a pleasant, stress-free forty-five minutes. It is the perfect size instrument for this age group. Guitars are just too big for them. One of the lads had been forcibly dragged into the class, and sat, mutinous, on a chair at the back of the room to begin with, but the lure of the ukulele was too strong and he slowly edged forward until he was ready in his place for his turn.
I copied this photograph from the Ackerrman music site. I'm a bit miffed because they sell it for just £19 and I paid £25 for mine last year at the local music shop.
I'll have to learn another chord for next Saturday - but that's a good thing, as it looks as though I may be teaching ukulele next year, so I'll need to learn to play it myself first.
Niagara - just a quick paragraph, hardly longer than the length of time of the film in the travel show on television last night (or maybe the night before?) where the presenters visited Tenerife, some other place or other, and NIAGARA! Well, actually Toronto, and a vineyard where they make Icewine, and Niagara Falls all in the final three minutes of the programme. It was lovely to see the falls again; a quick overhead shot from a helicopter, a few enthused sentences about the sound of the falls and how wet it was and awesome, and then a clearly mind-blown response after experiencing the Maid of the Mist boat trip. It brought it all back - the trip must have been filmed at a similar time of year to when we were out there last October, as it was a bright, clear, warm, but not bakingly hot day.
or And the ukulele? I took my little red uke to the Early Years music lessons I teach on Saturday morning, and was enchanted to find that the half-dozen 5-year olds that come to the first class could all manage to play the simplest chord (C - just one finger) and strum along, in time, to the song that I taught them. We spent most of the lesson taking turns and footling about with the ukulele - just a pleasant, stress-free forty-five minutes. It is the perfect size instrument for this age group. Guitars are just too big for them. One of the lads had been forcibly dragged into the class, and sat, mutinous, on a chair at the back of the room to begin with, but the lure of the ukulele was too strong and he slowly edged forward until he was ready in his place for his turn.I copied this photograph from the Ackerrman music site. I'm a bit miffed because they sell it for just £19 and I paid £25 for mine last year at the local music shop.
I'll have to learn another chord for next Saturday - but that's a good thing, as it looks as though I may be teaching ukulele next year, so I'll need to learn to play it myself first.
Wednesday, 7 March 2012
Wednesday 7th March - Season's Greetings
I am so enjoying watching Spring arrive. The snowdrops are mostly finished now - the ones under our apple tree in the garden, and the patch at Trotton churchyard, are just leaves now. I think of them as Winter flowers, rather than Spring - so if Spring starts in March then it is right that they should make way for the next arrivals. No purple carpet left in the churchyard either.
I had been completely taken aback to come round a corner and be greeted by a bank of daffodils way back at the end of January, on one of the back roads which criss-cross the countryside between Handcross and Balcombe (near the water tower, if you know the area). Last week, I thought I say my first primrose on the same road, but couldn't be sure. It was just a glimpse of pale yellow, greenish-yellow, really, as I zipped by. This week, I am sure that they were - are - primroses. There are loads all over that bit of sheltered, south-facing grassy slope.
Some of the weeping willows have definite leaves just appearing - little thin streaks of green like tiny bunting along the branches.
On the road out of Partridge Green there is a rookery, with what looks like multi-story living arrangements. The nests are stacked up like a block of flats. I don't have time to investigate and watch what is going on; after all, I am supposed to keep an eye on the road! Have they just rebuilt their nests on top of the old ones every time? The bottom nest is definitely occupied as I saw a rook fly out from it.
As I travel around, there is just a couple of seconds to catch a glimpse of the world beyond the grey tarmac before it is gone, and all have is the impression of what I think I might have seen. Tantalizing!
I had been completely taken aback to come round a corner and be greeted by a bank of daffodils way back at the end of January, on one of the back roads which criss-cross the countryside between Handcross and Balcombe (near the water tower, if you know the area). Last week, I thought I say my first primrose on the same road, but couldn't be sure. It was just a glimpse of pale yellow, greenish-yellow, really, as I zipped by. This week, I am sure that they were - are - primroses. There are loads all over that bit of sheltered, south-facing grassy slope.
Some of the weeping willows have definite leaves just appearing - little thin streaks of green like tiny bunting along the branches.
On the road out of Partridge Green there is a rookery, with what looks like multi-story living arrangements. The nests are stacked up like a block of flats. I don't have time to investigate and watch what is going on; after all, I am supposed to keep an eye on the road! Have they just rebuilt their nests on top of the old ones every time? The bottom nest is definitely occupied as I saw a rook fly out from it.
As I travel around, there is just a couple of seconds to catch a glimpse of the world beyond the grey tarmac before it is gone, and all have is the impression of what I think I might have seen. Tantalizing!
March 7th - Music practising - chapter 2: Thank you, Kabalevsky
A week has passed, and the problem pupils have been and gone again.
One had done some work, and is hopefully feeling more motivated. The five bars that she had stalled out on were the link between the first half and the second half of the piece. Now that hurdle has been overcome, she is well on the way to being able to play the whole thing. To add a bit of variety, I have found a pretty little Kabalevsky piece which should be quick to learn and satisfying to play.
The other miscreant had done zip, zero and zilch again. I need to know what he wants to get out of our weekly half hour together. I need him to realize that I need to get something out of teaching him, and £14 is not enough to endure the boredom of teaching pupils who are not learning! It seems that the pressure to perform for his GCSE has disappeared as the dates have been rescheduled to the end of this year, and therefore there is no external reason for him to feel that he needs to achieve anything. However, he seemed to take the point that £14 per lesson, £140 per term, about £450 per year, is a tidy sum to be spending on piano lessons. So, to make a fresh start; I have found another piece, which has the attraction of being easy to learn but sounding fairly impressive (thank you again, Dmitri Kabalevsky, for all the clever little piano pieces you wrote!).
Well, I'll just have to wait and see what happens ths week.
One had done some work, and is hopefully feeling more motivated. The five bars that she had stalled out on were the link between the first half and the second half of the piece. Now that hurdle has been overcome, she is well on the way to being able to play the whole thing. To add a bit of variety, I have found a pretty little Kabalevsky piece which should be quick to learn and satisfying to play.
The other miscreant had done zip, zero and zilch again. I need to know what he wants to get out of our weekly half hour together. I need him to realize that I need to get something out of teaching him, and £14 is not enough to endure the boredom of teaching pupils who are not learning! It seems that the pressure to perform for his GCSE has disappeared as the dates have been rescheduled to the end of this year, and therefore there is no external reason for him to feel that he needs to achieve anything. However, he seemed to take the point that £14 per lesson, £140 per term, about £450 per year, is a tidy sum to be spending on piano lessons. So, to make a fresh start; I have found another piece, which has the attraction of being easy to learn but sounding fairly impressive (thank you again, Dmitri Kabalevsky, for all the clever little piano pieces you wrote!). Well, I'll just have to wait and see what happens ths week.
Sunday, 4 March 2012
Sunday 4th February; Music practising - or rather, not practising
The big problem with being a piano teacher, is teaching all the piano lessons...
I have a lot of sympathy with pupils who don't practise - after all, I was one of them once! Most activities that children do out of school, like swimming, ballet, brownies, choir, happen once a week, and then you can forget all about them until next time.
Not so with music lessons. There is an expectation that the child (or adult!) will do a considerable amount of work, on their own, in between the lessons. I know one teacher who issues a contract specifying that the pupil is expected to practise every day for the same length of time as the lesson; so, if you have a half-hour lesson, then she expects you to practise for half an hour every day.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IGv933Mnru0 (It takes real talent to play like this)
Learning an instrument is a complex process. You build up skills in note reading, agility, coordination, listening and the physical and mental stamina to play the pieces. You need strength to maintain the posture required by your instrument and an ever-increasing capability to remember complex physical movements to play the notes. This is only acquired by intense, concentrated repetition, like the drills that sportsmen do, or the rehearsals that actors commit to.
So, when I have a pupil who has done zero practise, cannot remember the notes and movements that I painstakingly taught last week, and sits there making spaniel eyes at me, I have to fight down the temptation to roar at them, rip the music off the stand and belt them over the head with it!
What should I do with them?
If they have decided that they want to enter for an exam, then they MUST commit to all the elements of the exam; three pieces, scales, sight reading and aural, all to be completely learned by the deadline. I used to try and move mountains in order to get them ready. Now, if they don't practise, I am more ruthless. They can either go for it, and take their chance, or withdraw. The aforementioned teacher refuses to give extra lessons before an exam (apart from exceptional circumstances)- she has done her bit and it is up to the pupil to do their share of the work.
Many of my pupils don't want to do the exams - that's fine by me. Some are workers, and we go through the popular repertoire. It's the others, who just dawdle along, not getting to grips with anything, that frustrate me.
Maybe I should just chill? I know a parent who told the music teacher that all she wanted was for her child to have a pleasant, relaxing, musical half-hour, as a break from all the intense academic effort that he was putting in, and that she wasn't concerned about progress or practising or any of that stuff. Can I be content to take the money for half an hour of relaxing music making, without making any demands on the pupil? Perhaps I should give it a go. Either that, or just tell the particular pupil I am thinking of to leave!
I have a lot of sympathy with pupils who don't practise - after all, I was one of them once! Most activities that children do out of school, like swimming, ballet, brownies, choir, happen once a week, and then you can forget all about them until next time.
Not so with music lessons. There is an expectation that the child (or adult!) will do a considerable amount of work, on their own, in between the lessons. I know one teacher who issues a contract specifying that the pupil is expected to practise every day for the same length of time as the lesson; so, if you have a half-hour lesson, then she expects you to practise for half an hour every day.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IGv933Mnru0 (It takes real talent to play like this)
Learning an instrument is a complex process. You build up skills in note reading, agility, coordination, listening and the physical and mental stamina to play the pieces. You need strength to maintain the posture required by your instrument and an ever-increasing capability to remember complex physical movements to play the notes. This is only acquired by intense, concentrated repetition, like the drills that sportsmen do, or the rehearsals that actors commit to.
So, when I have a pupil who has done zero practise, cannot remember the notes and movements that I painstakingly taught last week, and sits there making spaniel eyes at me, I have to fight down the temptation to roar at them, rip the music off the stand and belt them over the head with it!
What should I do with them?
If they have decided that they want to enter for an exam, then they MUST commit to all the elements of the exam; three pieces, scales, sight reading and aural, all to be completely learned by the deadline. I used to try and move mountains in order to get them ready. Now, if they don't practise, I am more ruthless. They can either go for it, and take their chance, or withdraw. The aforementioned teacher refuses to give extra lessons before an exam (apart from exceptional circumstances)- she has done her bit and it is up to the pupil to do their share of the work.
Many of my pupils don't want to do the exams - that's fine by me. Some are workers, and we go through the popular repertoire. It's the others, who just dawdle along, not getting to grips with anything, that frustrate me.
Maybe I should just chill? I know a parent who told the music teacher that all she wanted was for her child to have a pleasant, relaxing, musical half-hour, as a break from all the intense academic effort that he was putting in, and that she wasn't concerned about progress or practising or any of that stuff. Can I be content to take the money for half an hour of relaxing music making, without making any demands on the pupil? Perhaps I should give it a go. Either that, or just tell the particular pupil I am thinking of to leave!