When I was in fifth grade, music happened once a week. The music teacher (aided by two or three helpers students) rolled a piano into the classroom each week. We would pass out the music books and we would sing. Like a few things in life, this was not so much a teaching experience, but an endeavor to reinforce those with talent and to drag along those who did not.
Of course in this setting not only was any individual instruction offered, it was likely impossible. This was because class sizes were around 30 students and music lasted less than an hour. The music teach ers had about two minutes per student -- and even minute was spent on the group.
In fifth grade home work was assigned. We were instructed to pick a song, learn it and in the next couple weeks each of us would give a solo performance. This was one of those things that struck terror in me; until age 20 or so I was painfully introverted. The thought of standing up in front of the mirror and signing was frightening. I would have rather helped Sgt. Saunders take out a sniper next on "Combat" --- my favorite tv show at the time --- than perform in front of others.The only bonus for my WW II loving mind was I could sing the "The Caisson Song."
So out of fear of performance and the love of getting to sing a real soldier song, I took the music book home and learned the words -- yes the words, how would I really learn the music. But then it seemed like a shout it out song, and not a delicate song like: "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious," with the nuances of:
Um diddle diddle diddle um diddle ay
As much as I dreaded the performance, I longed to shout out:
Then it's hi! hi! hee!
In the field artillery,
Day comes, my name is called and I go to the front of the class clenching the song book
Over hill, over daleAs we hit the dusty trail,
And those caissons go rolling along.
In and out, hear them shout,
Counter march and right about
"Stop stop," I heard from the music teacher. I didn't even realized she had stopped playing the piano after, 'rolling along.' And on top of it all she was really mad. The class was probably laughing, but I thought it was because I kept singing after the music stopped.
The teacher then berated me: "If you are going to sing bad on purpose, go sit down."
I was probably singing bad --- but on purpose? No way. I would never let Sgt. Saunders down.
Since that moment -- at least until recently -- singing in public doesn't happen too often.
Good night
beaux reves
bisou
petit garcon d'eau
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Comments: 7
I understand and I understand how hard it is
to hit and run teach --- as the case with the music teacher
Carry on with your good workd, Monsieur Library!
p.s. typo in title.
I will fix it
Perfect place to point out that teachers,
what ever you want to say about the,
are human
That music teacher was behind me and I bet she never knew how crush I was
or that I wasn't mocking her.
I can't believe that she did this to you! She accused you of doing it on purpose and embarrassed you in front of the class!
I... just... I can't believe it.
At least I didn't have a teacher do THAT to me!