The Good, the Bad , the Ugly and the Downright Unfathomable

While I'm happy to report that the old adage about dress rehearsals is still in working order....mostly.  I thought the students did a pretty decent job on their performance, but getting them on and off the staging area looked like black Friday at Walmart.  

The fifth grade has been rehearsing their parts since the cavemen were potchkieng* around with paints at Lescaux.   Each instrument had been assigned and all the students knew which ones they were playing.  So when it came time for them to get up and go to the very same instruments that had been rehearsing on, they stampeded toward them as if there were a fire sale.  Usually in class there can be a clamor for the basses, but I handle it by rotating the students in groups so that it's not always the meanest boys who bully their way over to them.  But in this case, I just don't understand their inability to walk at anything less than warp speed.  They won a race that had already been predetermined.  

To their credit, though, the arm folders and rage machines, minus only 2 of the worst behaved students in the entire world who were under the care of a stern first grade teacher, sang with gusto.  Many of them had something resembling smiles on their faces.  One of them, who spends a lot of time either suspended at home or in the "opportunity" room, was dressed in a neat, white collared shirt, as per instruction, and clean, pressed pants.  He took his place with the singers and stood there calmly..Perhaps he was plotting something and waiting for me to take my eyes off of him.  I turned around and counted to 10, which would be enough time for him to mastermind a bank heist--he's pretty good at being devious.  I turned back around. No one in his vicinity had called out to complain that he had hit them. He was still standing still. I wondered if he had had a mini stroke. I watched him while he sang. He had an expression on his face that was unfamiliar to me; I think it was enjoyment.  When I saw him line up after the performance, he said "That was fun, Ms. Jove."  I almost plotzed.**  I replied, " I am pleased you enjoyed this experience.  Maybe now you will get it together in my class.  You are much too handsome and smart to behave like a twit.  I just saw that you are capable of doing something wonderful."  He smiled and turned away from me in embarrassment.  I wonder if anyone has ever said anything nice to him before.

For my part, I did make some goof ups.  I blanked out on one of the German lines of Silent Night and stopped singing for a second.  I had several brave 4th graders who wanted to sing one verse in German (differentiation, don't cha know)  and they were counting on me to mouth the words.  When I stopped singing for a second they reverted to the English words--except for one Hispanic student who kept soldiering on in the German.  Her accent was also pretty darn good.  She had come to see me several times on her own time to get help with the pronunciation. I gave her an extra hug after the performance. 

Several teachers had switched grade levels this year, but my brain was not able to map them differently and when they came in I was insistent that they sit with the grade level that I mistakenly thought they taught.  I am fortunate that the staff is tolerant of my brain farts and took everything in stride, even when I skipped the second grade and noticed it halfway through 3rd grade's performance.  When I walked over to fetch 2nd grade they all chimed in , "You FORGOT us!"  

I am also happy to report that the 3rd grade's unicellular blob that was standing in for a circle at the dress rehearsal had morphed into a real circle.  The kids took their partners and didn't complain if it wasn't their usual one, or worse, had to pair up with someone that moments ago  had become their sworn enemy.  I partnered up with the biggest trouble maker and was pleased to see that he was enjoying himself and had decided to stop doing his customary half swagger, half  perp walk. I think some of them are so busy cutting up and clowning around that when they are forced to be serious, i;e. forced to partner up with me, they are finally able to allow themselves to have fun in a productive way.

2nd grade was awesome.  The instrumentalists played a fairly complicated part for their age.  They didn't maul the yarn on the mallets or twirl them like fire batons.  They remained in either ready, playing or resting position.  I was impressed. One of the more serious girls in the back row had taken it upon herself to wave her hands like an umpire at home plate every time the instrumentalists were to stop at the a capella section. Maybe I'll hire her, too.

 My first grade conductor whispered the words into my ear before starting so I stepped away from the group and let her take over.  It was like having a mini-me, only without the brain farts.

Kindergarten knew their words and lisped on cue.   I  only noticed  2 students picking up imaginary string while they sang; the rest of them were actually focused.  For the next two days I would hear strains of their song as they stood on line in the cafeteria or walked through the hallways.  Most of them couldn't wait  to tell me how much  fun they had and that they loved their song.  

So even though their were glitches and rough spots here and there, and my ears were bleeding after some of the songs, I was pleased that the students enjoyed their performances. That's the best take away from the performing aspect of my job: self-satisfaction and pride.  So I guess I'll take the bad, ugly and unfathomable along with the good because the good is as good as it gets.

*It's a Yiddish word meaning to tinker or mess around.  **Plotz is also Yiddish.  It means to faint.or collapse from surprise.