Thingies that happen to Steve in his other job

[SteveHopwood]

Concerning 16 year old Kate.

During the lesson, the moment doubtless carefully selected for maximum effect:

Kate: "Mediterranean sausages."

Me: "Pardon?"

Kate: "Mediterranean sausages."

Me: "I know I am going to regret this but I have to ask anyway. Why did you just say 'Mediterranean sausages'?"

At this point, a triumphant Kate whipped out a battered piece of paper from her pocket and demanded, "Sign here."

The paper read, "I, the undersigned Piano Teacher Steve Hopwood do hereby affirm that Kate conned me into saying 'Mediterranean sausages' entirely of my own volition."

Me: "What is at stake here?"

Kate: "A Mars bar."

Well, of course I signed

[SteveHopwood]

14 year old Jess again.

Faffing around trying to play Middle C and accusing it of being almost anything else.

Me: "Um. Doesn't the line through the middle of the note offer something of a clue?"

Jess: "It should do, but not when I am in a spaz."

Later on, Middle C again causes a problem.

Me: "Um. The line again.....?"

Jess: "Oh God. I am such a spoon."

[SteveHopwood]

Ant, of just-7, blonde-haired, gappy-toothed fame.

She did something clever tonight, so I said, "Give yourself as many Offiial Pats On The Head as you like."

Ant started patting.

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine.......... No. This is going to take too long. Ummmmmmmmmm. I know. 10, 20, 30, 40, 50, 60, 70, 80, 90...... ummmmmmmmmmm"

Thinks for a few seconds, then triumphantly, "90 plus 10. Yessssssssssssss"

[SteveHopwood]

"I've got a folder" is 14 year old Peter's main defence against anything these days.

I have become very fond of this young man. I have been putting him through grade 5 theory for his Trumpet teacher. Entering him this time means Peter is facing the exam next week, a month before he is ready, but we decided to take a punt in the hope that we could forget about it after that.

Early in the process, Peter got hold of a folder to keep the notes I gave him in one place; "Look, I've got a folder" he announced portentously. We are spending a lot of time together, to try to get him up to scratch. Whenever I threaten to torture him horribly for doing something daft, he announces, "You can't do that. I've got a folder."

Last night, he confessed to his mum that he had committed a crime in school that resulted in a lunchtime detention. "But," he declared brandishing his folder, "you can't be cross cos I've got a folder."

It worked. His mum was too busy laughing to be cross.

[SteveHopwood]

Sisters Kate and Clare, 13 & 11 respectively, just had a lessonm Mum dropped them off and I ran them home afterwards.

Looking through a new piece with Clare, I said, "The next bar is a repeat of this one."

Then I looked more closely. "Apart from this note, and this one, and that one, and those two. Hmmmm. Actually, it is completely different. Oops."

Kate giggled. "It's a Steveism." she chuckled. "It is what we call those moments when you are talking nonsense. Mum always asks if there were any Steveism's in the lesson. There usually are a few."

Hey ho.

[SteveHopwood]

Go up a couple of posts here if you are not familiar with Peter and his, "You can't do..... I've got a folder."

14 year old Kate is a piano pupil of mine. I have just started the grade 5 theory flog with her (for her singing teacher, not for me cos I now do TG; hey ho. ;D)

I had told Kate and her mum to get Kate a folder to keep her notes together. Yesterday, Kate bounced across my doorstep announcing, "Look, I've got a folder."

Kate and Peter are classmates in several GCSE classes at school, so I I told her how Peter was using his folder as a defence against the ills of the world.

Every school has its killer teachers - the ones that not even the Mafia-trained thugs will dare to cross. At P and K's school, the French teacher is one of these. Both kids are doing this subject.

Peter came to do some more theory tonight, and told me this wonderful story.

This particular Killer Teacher's Pet Hate is kids that turn up without a pen. There is no point in any criminal turning up without pen trying to use a pencil; the punishment merely increases exponentially.

P turned up for his lesson sans pen. Ok, so he had turned up for every other lesson sans pen, but not every teacher reacts as his French teacher does, so he had been getting away with it.

Realising his mistake at not arranging for the loan of said writing implement, P gulped and confessed to his crime. French teacher drew a huge breath to start the bellow when Kate chimed in with, "You can't shout at him Miss, he's got a folder."

Subsequent investigation of this statement had said teacher in tears with mirth and a highly relieved Peter not hung out to dry.

How much does he owe Kate, I wonder?

So, if you want defence from the ills of the world, then get a folder.

[SteveHopwood]

13 year old Rachael is a gentle girl; softly spoken, quite shy and slow to push herself forward.

The other side of her nature is that of a keen athlete and sportsgirl. She played her first netball match for the school last week. The ethos of the games department is highly competitive and winning a place in teams requires work and commitment.

Me: "How did your first netball match go?"

Rachel: "We won." * brief pause for thought * "No, actually we didn't just beat them, we destroyed them."

[SteveHopwood]

Helen is fifteen. A moderate pianist, she is a brilliant harpist. She knows Peter. I played her a new piece tonight.

Helen: How do you manage to play so well and so easily?

Me: The same way you do the harp.

H: Hmmmm. Practise again, I suppose?

Me: Yep. Hours and hours for years and years. Just think, Helen, I will be 56 in July and started playing when I was six. This year, I will have been playing the piano for half a century.

H: Um, hours and hours?

Me: Yes.

H: For years and years?

Me: Yup.

H: You need to get a life.

Me: How would you like to be horribly tortured?

H: You can't do that.

Me: Can.

H: Can't.

Me: Can.

H: Can't.

Me: Why not?

H: Cos I've got a folder.



I have helped create a monster, I fear. ;D The Curse of the Defensive Folder.

[SteveHopwood]

Friday night's 8 year old Izzy again.

All this took place from within the safety of very little girl snuggled up in her usual position of being cuddled up in my left arm.

Izzy finds music reading very difficult. She learns by ear much more easily. This leads to her stabbing hopefully for notes when an intelligent attempt to read them would make her life easily.

The fact is, that what is a simple pattern to you or I appears much more complicated to Izzy.

The note pattern was F-G-A. Izzy got the F, then stabbed hopefully all over the piano.

An unforgivably slightly irritated me asked her if she really could not see such a simple rising pattern. Sorry, but I was tired, ok?

Poor Izzy could see I was irritated and started to panic. Feeling instantly like a child murderer, I said sorry straight away and followed up this with, "Don't worry sweetheart. Some people see the patterns, some don't. You don't........."

............. represents what I was going to go on to say.

Too late.

An absolutely devastated little face looked up at me from the crook of my arm and asked, "Does that mean I am a naughty girl?"

"No, of course it doesn't sweetheart. You are a wonderful, beautiful, intelligent, perfectly behaved little girl."

This brought a huge beam, followed by, "Well, that's ok then."

Hmmmmmmmmmm. Was I played, or what?

[SteveHopwood]

Vicky was 16 last week. Highly intelligent young lady.

When Vicky asked me tonight in response to a question about how she had enjoyed her birthday, "Guess what I can legally do now I am 16?" I knew it would not be the usual litany of smoking\sex\leaving home. I was not disappointed.

"What?" I asked.

"I can buy and sell scrap metal."

"Actually, I could always buy it, but now I am 16 I can also sell it. Aren't I just the lucky one?"