I'll take it!

I have one family in which I'm teaching a nine-year-old violist, a five-year-old violinist and Mom. Mom's learning some bluegrass fiddle. I suggested that she get a certain book so she and the violist could play together, and she said, "I'd like that, but he insists on only playing classical music. I suppose there are worse things he could be a stickler about."

Ah, how well I remember being a classical-only snob and missing out on a whole lot of music from the '80s. And my parents were more into folk music and light rock. Now I have to listen to classic rock stations to supplement my education.

Teaching fun

(N.B. "Amy" is not this student's real name.)

Me: Did you loosen your bow?...Did you loosen your bow? Amy? Amy? AMY?
Amy, startled: What?
Me: What did I just say twice?
Amy: Um...my name?
Me and her mom: *hysterical laughter*

Yes, dear, but...

The power of thought

I was just thinking the other day how long it had been since I'd been hit on while busking by someone totally unsuited to me.

Yesterday at Park Street, a guy asked how long I'd been playing violin.

"Since fourth grade, so quite a while."

"Do you chase the men, or do men chase you?"

"...(oh). I'm married."

"Aw. I was totally about to ask you out."

"Heh, sorry."

"Do you know anyone who's single? Seeing a beautiful woman with a stringed instrument just does something to me."

"(I don't want to know what.) No, sorry. Don't miss your train."

"Huh? Oh, oh yeah."

"Bye! (Oy.)"

Seasonal difficulties

A student of mine was complaining about having to go to religious school in the fall. Her mother calmly explained that attending religious school is part of being Jewish.

Later, on the way out...

Mom, to me: Happy New Year!
Student: What do you mean, Happy New Year? It's nowhere near January.
Me, to student: That is why you have to go to religious school.

I'm not sure what you're king of, sir...

OK, I don't care how well-phrased and polite your "I need a dollar for public transportation" speech is, you lose all credibility the second you're a grown man wearing a Burger King crown, especially when you're alone and nowhere near a Burger King. And if you really need to catch the #1 bus, you're not going to have much luck at Roxbury Crossing. I realize that walking to Dudley in the rain would have made your crown soggy, sir, but that still won't make the #1 bus stop at Roxbury Crossing.

Should I be offended?

So yesterday, a youngish guy came up to me and handed me his business card and told me he teaches musicians about nutrition because his mother died of cancer. (That's a summary; he was slightly more coherent than that.) Seems to have something to do with wheatgrass juice.

I mean, I know I'm fat, but do I really look that bad? (That's rhetorical, son.)

Reminder to self...

...do not greet the news from a parent that their child has been practicing by breaking into a rousing chorus of "Miracle of Miracles".

Cuteness and quackery

Two children, a boy around 8 and a girl around 4 came up to watch me play. When I paused, the little girl asked me my name. I told her, asked her hers, got an answer, after which she buried her face in her brother's shoulder (in a cute-shy way, not a scared-shy way). Brother said, "She wants to know if she can pet the duck."

I should probably introduce y'all to the duck at some point.

Anyway, I said yes, and she patted its little stuffed head and scampered off, happy as could be.

Under where?

I'm contemplating how to institute a no-underpants policy in my in-home teaching.

No, no, it's not like that. Good Lord, what do you people think???

What I mean is:

1) I do not want to see anybody's underpants on the floor, even if it is their own room.

2) I would vastly prefer it if every member of the household over diaper age wore pants or some other underwear-covering garment while I'm there.

3) I do not ever want to hear an adult member of the household calling down the stairs about how he needs to get himself more underwear. (Note: This was funny, not creepy, but still.)

Thank you.

Almost, but not quite, I think

I had a conversation the other day with a saxophonist in the Public Garden. Well, in honesty, it was less of a conversation and more of a monologue on his part, but that's OK. He has a lot of opinions about music, which is well and good, except I'm of the mindset that when a topic is introduced with which you are unfamiliar, it's really just fine to admit your unfamiliarity and move on.

To wit: Bluegrass, while certainly influenced by jazz and blues, is not "just white people trying to play the blues"; there's a bunch of other stuff in there. In the words of Bill Monroe, bluegrass is "Scottish bagpipes and ole-time fiddlin'. It's Methodist and Holiness and Baptist. It's blues and jazz, and it has a high lonesome sound. It's plain music that tells a good story. It's played from my heart to your heart, and it will touch you. Bluegrass is music that matters."

Also, yes, the musical Oliver! is based on a novel by Charles Dickens, but Dickens was long gone by the time of the musical. Oliver! premiered in London in 1960, was written by Lionel Bart, and had little to do with Rogers and Hammerstein and even less to do with Currier and Ives.

(As a side note, I just learned that Nathaniel Currier was born in Roxbury. That's pretty cool.)

I mean, the saxophonist might have been drawing some kind of parallel between Dickensian culture and modern theatre, but if he was, it got lost somewhere along the way.

He was also trying to explain jazz progressions to me, which is fine, but as deeply steeped in classical training as I am, I think I would need to start with My First Jazz Chart by Kenner.

Freude!

A girl, probably around eight years old, came up and said, "You know what would be a good song for you to play? Beethoven."

I asked if there was anything in particular by Beethoven she wanted.

"Oh, I don't know the names of anything. Just, you know, Beethoven."

So I played Ode to Joy, and she seemed happy.

The sun may come out...

So I'm playing for a show soon, let's say it's Annie. Just so happens one of my students has a younger sibling by that name. Said sibling was having a rough time being quiet and listening to mom at a recent lesson. When they left, this exchange occurred:

Mom, to me: Good luck with Annie!
Me: Thanks! *looks at sibling* You too!
Mom: *sighs* Yeah.

Maybe ask someone else...

No, I don't mind that you interrupt my playing to ask a question. Yes, I live here. Um...hm. No, I don't know where to eat around here, especially if you don't want to eat at Cheers. There's a place across the Garden, about halfway down the block, with good sandwiches, but I don't remember what it's called. I eat at Starbucks, mostly. Sometimes at the ice cream truck. Sorry. Enjoy your stay in Boston!

Sentence unlikely to be heard outside a violin lesson...

"Mom, can you fix my Kun* while I tighten my frog?"

*pronounced "koon"

From out and about

I was walking past a preschool in my neighborhood. An older woman was walking behind me. A young man who works at the preschool had two toddlers in hand.

Relevant information: The toddlers were very dark skinned. The woman behind me was somewhat lighter than they were. I am as white as white can be...I do have a tan from being outside, but still.

Toddler 1, upon seeing me: That's my mommy!
Toddler 2: No, that's MY mommy!
1: NO, that's MY mommy!
2: NOOOO, that's MY mommy!

They pass me. From behind me, I hear:

1: That's not my mommy.
2: No, that's not MY mommy!

Then they see the woman behind me....

1: That's my mommy!
2: No, that's MY mommy!

Neither she nor I were, in fact, either of these children's mommies. But they were oh so very cute.

Again not musical

I was on the bus the other day, and a boy who appeared to be around eight or nine had clutched in his fist a sheaf of papers, on the top of which was written in eight- or nine-year-old boy writing:

"AVETAR: The Last Ear Bender"

Close enough for me.

Nowt to do with music...

...summat to do with Boston.

I was sitting at the bus stop, engrossed in Sudoku, when a woman came up and asked if she could ask me a question.

I won't do a verbatim transcription, but I will say: Asking me for money is one thing. When I say I don't have any cash, asking if we can't go to the bank is quite another.

Also, don't touch me.

Awwww

From a four-year-old student: "I have a really good remembory."

I love kids' brains sometimes...

The following conversation took place with one of my students who is disturbingly smart, but occasionally lacks a bit in the common sense department. (Note: I'm the same way, only she's smarter than I've ever been.)

Student: The music's hard to read.
Fiddler: Yes, I think there's a reason for that.
S: I don't know what that reason is.
F: Well...think about it.
S: Hm...the music's kind of curved, so it's at a weird angle.
F: True, but that's not the current problem.
S: I don't know.
F: What are some reasons that people sometimes can't see things?
S: Sometimes things are too far away, but I'm really close to the music.
F: Right. What else?
S: Some people have poor eyesight, but my vision is perfect, so it's not that.
F: Also right. What else?
S: *ponders extensively* I just don't know.
F: What time of day is it?
S: OH! It's DARK in here! Maybe I should turn on the light!
F: Maybe you should.

*cue blinking as eyes try to adjust to sudden flood of light*

Too Darn Hot...

I've hardly been busking at all, what with the ridiculous temperatures (whaddya think this is, summer or something?) and the failure of whatever rain we do get to ameliorate said temperatures or humidity.

Exhibit A: Melted cats (note: we do have an air conditioned room. They do not generally choose to stay in it. I occasionally open the door and yell, "You're all stupid!" at them.)
















However, I think this is relevant, since I do much of my summer busking near the Make Way for Ducklings statue. (found via Universal Hub)