Everyone filed in on time. We were working on the B flat scale. It will be their first scale--and it won't be their last. Kaito is still on the pentatonic scale. However, since the euphonium parts for the winter music don't go above concert F, I wasn't too concerned. Alex had the clearest intonation out of all of them, probably from all that singing she does. The others fell somewhere in between. Caitlyn could tongue precisely, but had trouble with fingers. Adrian was struggling very much with the B flat scale. I took him aside for one on one practice.
"I just can't get it." He looked defeated.
"Why not?"
"I just...can't. This is hopeless." No, it was not. It took me three weeks to get a sound--any sound at all--out of a trumpet. I am not let letting any of my students feel hopeless because they struggle with a scale. Noting that Adrian's face was rather tense, I told him to relax.
"See if that helps." Adrian played again. I stopped him because he was tensing on the higher notes. It did help. "You got it!"
"I did?"
"Yes. That was the best you ever played it." If Caitlin were here to see this, she'd be so proud.
I went on to help Kaito. He seemed to be struggling with the G. I noted that he was pressing the same valve again and again with a blank expression. That was odd. If he stimmed with his instrument, it was usually with the third valve (not the second) and with an intent look on his face. I assisted him with the fingering and air. He moved up with some fracking. However, that was to be expected from all of our brass players at this level.
We moved on to sightreading the piece. Since they apparently had no idea how to subdivide, I ran through everything at a slower pace. That improved things. The flute feature got lost due to the flutes not counting. We worked on that together. They were a little better. It may not have been much better, but it was better. I furthered their improvement to where they were playing a recognizable line and then put it into context.
One of the things I teach is that good should never get in the way of great. Especially at the start of one's musical career, music is all about improvement and advancement. No one can graduate from music like they can from school. We're always looking for ways to put on better shows and wow the crowd. The Tchaikovsky concerto in D major was considered impossible at one point and now it's standard repertoire for every professional violinist worth their salt.
But that's not going to work with my students. Most people are more concerned with their own headache than a widespread famine a million chunks away. I told them they could do it because I knew they could. For the most part, they already had the basics of the piece. It will take them a while to take to the feel of it, but that's an issue across the board for Mindcrack's bands in general. It's all about the right bubble in the right column nowadays. The more academic direction this school is taking might boost our rank, but it's going to strip our students and teachers of their essence.
We counted and clapped some things together, getting that squared away. I worked on getting the right notes from the brass. Alex, with her singers' ear, had very few problems. I had to correct a few of her fingerings, though. Adrienne, however, struggled with distinguishing between half steps and whole steps...or between any pitches at all. Using the tuner app on my phone, I "helped" her distinguish pitches. She was mostly fine with that. I moved on to fingers. Upon closer observation, I realized that she was only partially pressing her valves. I told her to press harder. Her fingers bent backwards at the tips. Yikes. How did I not notice that until now? I didn't know how to help at the moment, so I just moved on. Kiyoshi was in need of a new reed. I helped Aisha with her posture. Everything else was fine, but her posture ruined it. (Darn it, Aisha! I TOLD YOU NOT TO SLOUCH.)
After another run-through, the bell rang. My beginners all filed out having worked very hard. The guitar class will come in and I'll introduce the to their first chord after the break. During the break, students move about as they please to either get things done or not get things done. Of course, like clockwork, Alice came in to practice her symphonic band stuff. I prepared a lunch for her because she would not eat the rest of the day otherwise. I wanted Alice to have her health. Without her health, I didn't know what her mother would do to her. I had the pleasure (rather, displeasure) of meeting her yesterday. She told me that I deserved to die and that I should take, in her words "that little nymph of yours" (referring to Caitlin) with you.
How does Alice live with that? I'm surprised that she hasn't run away, slipped into drugs, or done anything of the sort. After eating the sandwich, she rinsed her mouth with water and began her practice. I noted that she had a tendency to stop phrases in frustration even though her playing was perfectly fine. She came over to me to and asked if there was something wrong with her playing. From what I heard, she was a little flat on one of the low notes, but what middle school student isn't? Alice played for me and she was perfectly fine. I let her know this.
"I need to tell you something." Alice had a franticness in her eyes.
"Tell me the thing." Everything that I know emotionally about my students will help me be a better teacher. Seeing that Alice was our best second trumpeter in the middle school band, her role was integral to our band.
"Well, the reason I didn't play all that well last year was because my mother keeps calling me a tone deaf half wit and it really hurt because it was true at the time. She told me to stop practicing because, in her words, it was clear that I was never going to improve. Even if it's not as true now, it still hurts." She extended her arms forward and I saw that they were covered in fresh slashes. I'd know that sight anywhere. I wanted to break down and cry, but that wouldn't help Alice. I texted the school administration and told them about my concerns. That girl needs a psychologist and she needs one now. I'm not going to waste any time because waiting could mean that I wake up finding a sword in her ribs.
Monday, October 31, 2016
Thursday, October 13, 2016
Don't Do It (Steve)
"It's just a seizure." A lot of people said that to me. "She'll get over it in time." I don't think they understand what it means. I mean, losing control of one's body must be terrifying. Caitlin was still flopped over my lap fast asleep. I washed the vomit out of her hair only five minutes ago. My head still felt like it was spinning. Reassuringly, Caitlin shifted as if to let me know she was okay. Her breathing got erratic, so I took care of that. I decided to talk to Farkas again. He would know what to make of my current situation. Apparently, things were hitting Anna pretty hard.
I found her hunched over the toilet after getting back from a quest. People don't know this side of having a loved one with a brain tumor. They think they do, but they don't.
Oh. Well, I'm sorry. I didn't really know what else to say. Did I really need to burden him with my situation on top of that?
But that's enough about us. What about you guys?
I don't want to talk about it. Well, really, I did.
That's a sign you should.
Fine, but know that I'm not trying to pit my struggle against yours.
I know that. Tell me.
Well, it's about Caitlin, but not really. My anxiety is through the roof right now. As I was dealing with another one of her seizures, I threw up. Being unable to think, I just did stuff with muscle memory. I still feel like my head is going to fly off its axis.
I know how that feels.
And these people kept dismissing it. Then again, I bet a lot of people have trouble imagining things from our side. The infographics are helpful, but they don't portray emotion. It's like comparing a MIDI file to sitting in the orchestra yourself.
Ugh. Well, I hope everything goes well.
Nathan showed up before I could respond. We ran through some lip slurs. Nathan was obviously not having lip slurs today. I suggested he switch mouthpieces. He switched to one with a smaller cup size. That improved his lip slurs dramatically. We worked on marching band music together. Noticing that he was dragging, I put on the metronome. He struggled with the higher notes, probably because his lip slurs were bad that day. After the lesson, I noticed a blue, pink, and purple button on the ear of his cat-shaped backpack.
"What's that?"
"It's a bisexual pride button."
"Are you bisexual?"
"...Yes. Probably because I'm so indecisive." He laughed. It's always interesting to learn about students' lives beyond the horn "The only downside is it's kind of an idiot magnet. Someone overturned my wheelchair--with me in it--while yelling 'Disabled LGBT lives matter!' Hypocrisy much?" I hate it when people do that. It's irrational and it hurts people, so why do people do it? "By the way, you're a much better band director than the one at my school." After Nathan had left, I noticed that he managed to take away some of my tension.
I decided to get back to messaging while entering grades for my students. Caitlin was still fast asleep. She reached out in my direction, so I sat closer to her.
A lot of people think I'm a hero who took on a burden, but they don't take into account what Caitlin does for me. She loves me to the point it's safe to bet that she'd take a sword or a bow for me (though I wouldn't let her do that) and reassures me when I'm anxious. More than that, Caitlin saved my life. I thought I would die on my quest to slay the Ender Dragon. I intended to die disguising a suicide as a heroic quest, but Caitlin healed me and enabled me to complete my battle. Has Anna ever made you feel that way?
In a way, I guess. She helps me sleep. :)
That's always nice.
I closed my computer and took the towel off of Caitlin's hair. It was almost dry, but it was still somewhat damp. I ran my hands through her hair (1) because I like the way it feels and (2) to help it dry. I found a note and read it.
Don't try to stop my next seizure. If it kills me, that's fine, because it's what everyone wants anyway.
My eyes started filling with tears. That is not what anyone wants! Think of your sixth graders and how you completely changed their character for the better in a year. Think of your private students and the skills they have developed thanks to your careful attention and heartfelt praise. You play second, third, or fourth better than most people play first. That's not something a lot of people can do well.
Think of me. Why would I have taken you with me if you did not matter? You gave my life meaning. You sustained my breath and made it worth breathing. Why didn't you tell me you felt this way? The tears started falling from my eyes, one after another. I ended up breaking down and sobbing. I have only one of you, you know. You sustained my breath and made it worth breathing. You are my companion, my duet partner, and my confidante.
My mind travelled back to my suicide attempt. A cursory glance would make the average person fear for Caitlin's life, but the one who was dying was me. I thought a bottle of pills would fix my problems. If I was dead, things couldn't get any worse, right? Wrong. Things couldn't get better if I had died. I never want that to happen to Caitlin. Alex would be devastated. Her smile can brighten anyone's day. I'd hate to see it wiped off her face. I'm already worried about Alice because hardworking people with low self-esteem rarely break, but it is very difficult, if not impossible to build them back up when they do.
Please don't do this to me.
Don't do it.
Nathan showed up before I could respond. We ran through some lip slurs. Nathan was obviously not having lip slurs today. I suggested he switch mouthpieces. He switched to one with a smaller cup size. That improved his lip slurs dramatically. We worked on marching band music together. Noticing that he was dragging, I put on the metronome. He struggled with the higher notes, probably because his lip slurs were bad that day. After the lesson, I noticed a blue, pink, and purple button on the ear of his cat-shaped backpack.
"What's that?"
"It's a bisexual pride button."
"Are you bisexual?"
"...Yes. Probably because I'm so indecisive." He laughed. It's always interesting to learn about students' lives beyond the horn "The only downside is it's kind of an idiot magnet. Someone overturned my wheelchair--with me in it--while yelling 'Disabled LGBT lives matter!' Hypocrisy much?" I hate it when people do that. It's irrational and it hurts people, so why do people do it? "By the way, you're a much better band director than the one at my school." After Nathan had left, I noticed that he managed to take away some of my tension.
I decided to get back to messaging while entering grades for my students. Caitlin was still fast asleep. She reached out in my direction, so I sat closer to her.
A lot of people think I'm a hero who took on a burden, but they don't take into account what Caitlin does for me. She loves me to the point it's safe to bet that she'd take a sword or a bow for me (though I wouldn't let her do that) and reassures me when I'm anxious. More than that, Caitlin saved my life. I thought I would die on my quest to slay the Ender Dragon. I intended to die disguising a suicide as a heroic quest, but Caitlin healed me and enabled me to complete my battle. Has Anna ever made you feel that way?
In a way, I guess. She helps me sleep. :)
That's always nice.
I closed my computer and took the towel off of Caitlin's hair. It was almost dry, but it was still somewhat damp. I ran my hands through her hair (1) because I like the way it feels and (2) to help it dry. I found a note and read it.
Don't try to stop my next seizure. If it kills me, that's fine, because it's what everyone wants anyway.
My eyes started filling with tears. That is not what anyone wants! Think of your sixth graders and how you completely changed their character for the better in a year. Think of your private students and the skills they have developed thanks to your careful attention and heartfelt praise. You play second, third, or fourth better than most people play first. That's not something a lot of people can do well.
Think of me. Why would I have taken you with me if you did not matter? You gave my life meaning. You sustained my breath and made it worth breathing. Why didn't you tell me you felt this way? The tears started falling from my eyes, one after another. I ended up breaking down and sobbing. I have only one of you, you know. You sustained my breath and made it worth breathing. You are my companion, my duet partner, and my confidante.
My mind travelled back to my suicide attempt. A cursory glance would make the average person fear for Caitlin's life, but the one who was dying was me. I thought a bottle of pills would fix my problems. If I was dead, things couldn't get any worse, right? Wrong. Things couldn't get better if I had died. I never want that to happen to Caitlin. Alex would be devastated. Her smile can brighten anyone's day. I'd hate to see it wiped off her face. I'm already worried about Alice because hardworking people with low self-esteem rarely break, but it is very difficult, if not impossible to build them back up when they do.
Please don't do this to me.
Don't do it.
Tuesday, October 11, 2016
Inspiration (Matilda)
Of every teacher I have ever met, I have never met someone like Caitlin Netherfield. Her pedagogy style is simple, yet sophisticated in a way that I can't quite place. She speaks softly, yet everything else about her speaks volumes. If she walked into a room, no one would take notice. However, if you took the time to notice her, you would meet the kind of person one seldom meets, like a queen disguised as a peasant.
Caitlin sat before me with Steve at her side. They exchanged a few embraces and affectionate gestures. They were cute together, honestly. Although they were polar opposites in some ways, they were markedly similar in others. For one, they both loved music. They had the same warm empathy and love for others as well as for each other. However, I got the sense that they sometimes-no, frequently-forgot to love themselves.
We talked about our experiences working with different high schools.
"It was a battle of ego. All the time." Steve looked defeated. I guessed that his device did not have the plural for "ego" installed. "I made them do a silent rehearsal." I have met several flute sections like that and they came in all levels and sizes, but mostly in large high school bands. They were exhausting and downright annoying. I have been in them in the high school and even professional level. It's less common on the professional level, but it still happens. "And you?" He gestured towards me.
"The oboes were a little dicey, but the flutes were absolutely wonderful. They were rather personable and polite. I'd dare to say that they were a little too polite. Their lack of confidence resulted in intonation problems."
"My woodwinds were all yelling at each other." Caitlin spoke up.
"Which school did you go to?"
"Skull Crusher High School."
"Sounds like them."
"Not only that, but one student said I was 'disturbing everyone' by doing this." She demonstrated her hand flap for me. I thought it was fairly innocuous, considering other things I've seen from other teachers. One of them chased her students around the track with a creeper as a warm up. The news was covering that for weeks on end. Those motions are fairly effective in releasing hand tension, the enemy of all woodwinds. I was surprised she didn't tell the students to do it. "Do you know anyone from the Skull Crusher band named Kathryn? On flute? She's the one who said I was disturbing everyone." That's my student!
"She will hear from me during her next lesson." I took a sweet brown roll and spread butter on it. It is very out of character for Kathryn to openly disrespect a teacher, especially one like Caitlin. Across from me, she took a soft white roll, made a pocket of sorts in the center with the butter knife, and filled it with jam. She looked markedly better, but still tired. When she yawned, Steve placed an arm around her. Caitlin's unease melted away like butter.
I planned to leave, but I heard a loud yelp and a crash. Caitlin was shaking on the ground. I had one unprovoked seizure before...and only one. I was in high school at the time. I remember feeling like all the energy had been drained from my body. Caitlin, on the other hand, dealt with it on an almost daily basis. I rushed to her side hoping to be able to do something. Luckily, I did. I made sure people didn't shove old wallets or dirty sneakers in her mouth (and it's usually old wallets or dirty sneakers for some reason?) while Steve took care of the rest. His concern would touch the hearts of even the most cold, calculating people.
Each neurological lightning bolt racked her little frame. Seconds stretched into eternities as I watched every uncontrolled movement. Would she be okay? As if to mock my concern, things died down and then started up again. It had been five minutes. I wondered if Caitlin would be okay. Luckily, Steve was adept at functioning under extreme stress. Not only that, his compassion held. I moved more onlookers on and thought about the numerous teachers I have seen taking stress out on their students when it was really themselves they were mad at.
Caitlin inspired me. She really did--and not due to her disabilities. She inspired me because of her character. I knew she would not use her seizures (or anything else) as an excuse to treat others poorly or perform halfheartedly. If she said something hurtful, she owned up to it and apologized every time. I wished I could be more like that. I thought I had to scream at people to get them to respect me as a high school section leader. When she had command of the Mindcrack band in Steve's place, she barely spoke above a whisper the entire time, yet she managed to command respect. They played the best they ever had during that concert.
I wish I could say the same about myself.
Caitlin sat before me with Steve at her side. They exchanged a few embraces and affectionate gestures. They were cute together, honestly. Although they were polar opposites in some ways, they were markedly similar in others. For one, they both loved music. They had the same warm empathy and love for others as well as for each other. However, I got the sense that they sometimes-no, frequently-forgot to love themselves.
We talked about our experiences working with different high schools.
"It was a battle of ego. All the time." Steve looked defeated. I guessed that his device did not have the plural for "ego" installed. "I made them do a silent rehearsal." I have met several flute sections like that and they came in all levels and sizes, but mostly in large high school bands. They were exhausting and downright annoying. I have been in them in the high school and even professional level. It's less common on the professional level, but it still happens. "And you?" He gestured towards me.
"The oboes were a little dicey, but the flutes were absolutely wonderful. They were rather personable and polite. I'd dare to say that they were a little too polite. Their lack of confidence resulted in intonation problems."
"My woodwinds were all yelling at each other." Caitlin spoke up.
"Which school did you go to?"
"Skull Crusher High School."
"Sounds like them."
"Not only that, but one student said I was 'disturbing everyone' by doing this." She demonstrated her hand flap for me. I thought it was fairly innocuous, considering other things I've seen from other teachers. One of them chased her students around the track with a creeper as a warm up. The news was covering that for weeks on end. Those motions are fairly effective in releasing hand tension, the enemy of all woodwinds. I was surprised she didn't tell the students to do it. "Do you know anyone from the Skull Crusher band named Kathryn? On flute? She's the one who said I was disturbing everyone." That's my student!
"She will hear from me during her next lesson." I took a sweet brown roll and spread butter on it. It is very out of character for Kathryn to openly disrespect a teacher, especially one like Caitlin. Across from me, she took a soft white roll, made a pocket of sorts in the center with the butter knife, and filled it with jam. She looked markedly better, but still tired. When she yawned, Steve placed an arm around her. Caitlin's unease melted away like butter.
I planned to leave, but I heard a loud yelp and a crash. Caitlin was shaking on the ground. I had one unprovoked seizure before...and only one. I was in high school at the time. I remember feeling like all the energy had been drained from my body. Caitlin, on the other hand, dealt with it on an almost daily basis. I rushed to her side hoping to be able to do something. Luckily, I did. I made sure people didn't shove old wallets or dirty sneakers in her mouth (and it's usually old wallets or dirty sneakers for some reason?) while Steve took care of the rest. His concern would touch the hearts of even the most cold, calculating people.
Each neurological lightning bolt racked her little frame. Seconds stretched into eternities as I watched every uncontrolled movement. Would she be okay? As if to mock my concern, things died down and then started up again. It had been five minutes. I wondered if Caitlin would be okay. Luckily, Steve was adept at functioning under extreme stress. Not only that, his compassion held. I moved more onlookers on and thought about the numerous teachers I have seen taking stress out on their students when it was really themselves they were mad at.
Caitlin inspired me. She really did--and not due to her disabilities. She inspired me because of her character. I knew she would not use her seizures (or anything else) as an excuse to treat others poorly or perform halfheartedly. If she said something hurtful, she owned up to it and apologized every time. I wished I could be more like that. I thought I had to scream at people to get them to respect me as a high school section leader. When she had command of the Mindcrack band in Steve's place, she barely spoke above a whisper the entire time, yet she managed to command respect. They played the best they ever had during that concert.
I wish I could say the same about myself.
Monday, October 3, 2016
Pedagogy (Caitlin)
Want to know what you're missing out on by rejecting Kaito Hiyashida?
He's a nice kid who wants to learn. I spent the first lesson teaching him how to properly support a euphonium (because those things are heavy!) while getting to know him. He is very interested in music and doesn't like loud noises. (This will be a challenge.) His favorite color is green and he can use a sword pretty well judging by the videos he showed me. Kaito was impressed that I learned some Japanese for him. I was surprised that this is not the norm for other teachers. I used the correct honorifics and found out a few things about him based on the 250 word core noun/verb package on his device. He seriously needs an adjective and adverb pack. A keyboard would do him good too.
After that, I ended up on the floor utterly disoriented and terrified. I vaguely remembered water running through my hair and tasted something acrid in my mouth. Was that blood or vomit? I felt like all the energy had left me. I felt the sheets against my body and let sleep take over. If I can sleep, I can pretend everything's okay for a while.
I woke up in time to go to our respective places at different schools. Steve offered to carry my things until we parted, for which I was grateful. I needed all the energy I could muster. I had the privilege of working with Skull Crusher High School's low brass and upper woodwinds. Skull Crusher High School was known for their band program. They had, so I heard, 5 piccolos (!!!), 22 flutes, 9 oboes, 17 clarinets, 6 trombones, and 5 tubas. I took my stuff and made my way down the path with a map in tow. I took back my things and set off.
Rule #1 of going places with cerebral palsy: Do not overload yourself with heavy stuff, especially if you don't need it. Unfortunately, I needed my clarinet, euphonium (which comes in a wheeled case but STILL), sheet music, a tuner, health stuff, food for the day, and a flute I borrowed from Matilda. I practiced a bit of flute now and then, but I was not much good at the instrument. I was on par with a skilled high school student musically with regard to my abilities as a flutist. I played on Rosalie's flute and got pretty good at it. She rarely practiced and never really cared what I did with it any of her stuff. I would have continued on flute if I could really nail those high notes.
I tripped on an errant stone and fell on my face, collapsing under my pile of stuff. Luckily, I didn't break anything, but it still hurt. I picked up everything and continued on my path. I cleaned off my wounds at a nearby well because showing up with blood running down one's knee is generally considered unprofessional. We all have things to do and places to be and, when we do them, we should do them well. I have to work much harder than most people and that's okay. Doing what I love makes me willing to put in the effort.
I saw the school building. Its imposing structure is reminiscent of a college rather than a high school. Pulling out the map, I plotted my steps. I was exhausted just from walking there. How was I going to get through teaching two groups? The low brass welcomed me. I led them in a few scales. After tuning to a B flat, we ran through some of the music. I had to correct trombone positions the entire time. We exchanged a few jokes, worked on pedal tones and lip slurs, and all around had a great rehearsal. After that, I turned my attention to the upper woodwinds.
This was a totally different atmosphere. Right away, I could see competitiveness, perfectionism, and a desire to lead unlike the low brass whose members just wanted to crack fart jokes and were pretty laid back as far as I could tell. I tuned the woodwinds to an A. One of the members thought we were extremely sharp. I then realized that my tuner was set to A445! After re-tuning to A440, we played scales. Because none of them were following me, I cut off and they all started yelling at each other. I tried to get their attention. I waved my hands to stave off the tension I felt in my throat. One of the flutists looked disgusted. The others didn't seem to notice or care. The flutist spoke.
"No offense, but you look like you have a disability when you do that." I bet she wouldn't have said that about my use of a cane. She didn't seem to care about the bandage on my knee or placement of my feet on the floor. "You're seriously disturbing everyone."
"Shut up, Kathryn. How would you know what that's like?" Another flutist, a boy, rolled his eyes. Apparently, she must be like this all the time.
"Well, I have Type 1 diabetes and I don't have my insulin pump hanging out." Wow. I thought a fellow disabled person would have more compassion and understanding than that. Well, to each their own, I suppose.
"Sorry if I was making anyone uncomfortable." I stopped, seeing that my hand movements were rather unusual. "Let's continue. Pull out your contest music." The flutes were a half step off from each other on the G flat. I tuned each of them and only one was in tune. Only one. Really? After some frantic adjusting, the lot of them all sounded better. I demonstrated phrases on my instruments as needed. We ran through the sixteenth note passages and discussed alternate fingerings. The clarinets and I had an interesting discussion on reeds. Some of them used the prescribed cedar reeds and others used oak reeds. A few used birch reeds. Most used spruce reeds. One of them was surprised I used sugar cane reeds because they're normally seen as beginner reeds. I think you should use what suits you regardless of what others think. I let them take a break and get lunch.
As I opened my lunch, I couldn't help but ruminate over Kathryn's words. Why is it that someone who should understand my experiences on a deeper level would mock a simple idiosyncrasy of mine with such overt hatred? Carmen and Nathan never said things like that. Kaito understood it fully and Adrian was used to it. I tried to think about what made Kathryn so judgmental of a few simple hand movements when she knew what disability was like. Is it that people are compelled to pit others' impairments against each others' and their own? But why?
Why is it so easy for people to hail me as an idol when I go out with my cane and then despise me the moment I flap my hands?
He's a nice kid who wants to learn. I spent the first lesson teaching him how to properly support a euphonium (because those things are heavy!) while getting to know him. He is very interested in music and doesn't like loud noises. (This will be a challenge.) His favorite color is green and he can use a sword pretty well judging by the videos he showed me. Kaito was impressed that I learned some Japanese for him. I was surprised that this is not the norm for other teachers. I used the correct honorifics and found out a few things about him based on the 250 word core noun/verb package on his device. He seriously needs an adjective and adverb pack. A keyboard would do him good too.
After that, I ended up on the floor utterly disoriented and terrified. I vaguely remembered water running through my hair and tasted something acrid in my mouth. Was that blood or vomit? I felt like all the energy had left me. I felt the sheets against my body and let sleep take over. If I can sleep, I can pretend everything's okay for a while.
I woke up in time to go to our respective places at different schools. Steve offered to carry my things until we parted, for which I was grateful. I needed all the energy I could muster. I had the privilege of working with Skull Crusher High School's low brass and upper woodwinds. Skull Crusher High School was known for their band program. They had, so I heard, 5 piccolos (!!!), 22 flutes, 9 oboes, 17 clarinets, 6 trombones, and 5 tubas. I took my stuff and made my way down the path with a map in tow. I took back my things and set off.
Rule #1 of going places with cerebral palsy: Do not overload yourself with heavy stuff, especially if you don't need it. Unfortunately, I needed my clarinet, euphonium (which comes in a wheeled case but STILL), sheet music, a tuner, health stuff, food for the day, and a flute I borrowed from Matilda. I practiced a bit of flute now and then, but I was not much good at the instrument. I was on par with a skilled high school student musically with regard to my abilities as a flutist. I played on Rosalie's flute and got pretty good at it. She rarely practiced and never really cared what I did with it any of her stuff. I would have continued on flute if I could really nail those high notes.
I tripped on an errant stone and fell on my face, collapsing under my pile of stuff. Luckily, I didn't break anything, but it still hurt. I picked up everything and continued on my path. I cleaned off my wounds at a nearby well because showing up with blood running down one's knee is generally considered unprofessional. We all have things to do and places to be and, when we do them, we should do them well. I have to work much harder than most people and that's okay. Doing what I love makes me willing to put in the effort.
I saw the school building. Its imposing structure is reminiscent of a college rather than a high school. Pulling out the map, I plotted my steps. I was exhausted just from walking there. How was I going to get through teaching two groups? The low brass welcomed me. I led them in a few scales. After tuning to a B flat, we ran through some of the music. I had to correct trombone positions the entire time. We exchanged a few jokes, worked on pedal tones and lip slurs, and all around had a great rehearsal. After that, I turned my attention to the upper woodwinds.
This was a totally different atmosphere. Right away, I could see competitiveness, perfectionism, and a desire to lead unlike the low brass whose members just wanted to crack fart jokes and were pretty laid back as far as I could tell. I tuned the woodwinds to an A. One of the members thought we were extremely sharp. I then realized that my tuner was set to A445! After re-tuning to A440, we played scales. Because none of them were following me, I cut off and they all started yelling at each other. I tried to get their attention. I waved my hands to stave off the tension I felt in my throat. One of the flutists looked disgusted. The others didn't seem to notice or care. The flutist spoke.
"No offense, but you look like you have a disability when you do that." I bet she wouldn't have said that about my use of a cane. She didn't seem to care about the bandage on my knee or placement of my feet on the floor. "You're seriously disturbing everyone."
"Shut up, Kathryn. How would you know what that's like?" Another flutist, a boy, rolled his eyes. Apparently, she must be like this all the time.
"Well, I have Type 1 diabetes and I don't have my insulin pump hanging out." Wow. I thought a fellow disabled person would have more compassion and understanding than that. Well, to each their own, I suppose.
"Sorry if I was making anyone uncomfortable." I stopped, seeing that my hand movements were rather unusual. "Let's continue. Pull out your contest music." The flutes were a half step off from each other on the G flat. I tuned each of them and only one was in tune. Only one. Really? After some frantic adjusting, the lot of them all sounded better. I demonstrated phrases on my instruments as needed. We ran through the sixteenth note passages and discussed alternate fingerings. The clarinets and I had an interesting discussion on reeds. Some of them used the prescribed cedar reeds and others used oak reeds. A few used birch reeds. Most used spruce reeds. One of them was surprised I used sugar cane reeds because they're normally seen as beginner reeds. I think you should use what suits you regardless of what others think. I let them take a break and get lunch.
As I opened my lunch, I couldn't help but ruminate over Kathryn's words. Why is it that someone who should understand my experiences on a deeper level would mock a simple idiosyncrasy of mine with such overt hatred? Carmen and Nathan never said things like that. Kaito understood it fully and Adrian was used to it. I tried to think about what made Kathryn so judgmental of a few simple hand movements when she knew what disability was like. Is it that people are compelled to pit others' impairments against each others' and their own? But why?
Why is it so easy for people to hail me as an idol when I go out with my cane and then despise me the moment I flap my hands?
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