Thingies that happen to Steve in his other job

[SteveHopwood]

The Dove I first mentioned a few posts ago was waiting for me as I arrived this evening, and seemed determined to land on my head. Slightly disconcerting, but there did not appear to be any threat, so it was quite comical.

I managed to make my way to the house door and remarked that I had just been accosted by a Dove apparently intent on sitting on my head.

It turns out that this bird lives in a bird house in the garage of a house opposite. The owners found this bird abandoned - some disaster must have happened to the nest. They took the bird in, fed it with milk and managed to pull it through. It now regards every human being as its personal friend.

The postman is resigned to doing his deliveries to the street with a Dove sitting on his head.

When I left, Dove flew over and settled happily on my head, so I walked to the car with one of the strangest pieces of headgear anyone must ever have worn.

I was able to persuade it onto my hand and stroked its breast whilst it cooed and bobbed at me.

What a lovely experience. I hope it happens again.

And that it doesn't poo on me.

[SteveHopwood]

Tamsin and Katy are 'best friends'. They are two of the loveliest 14 year olds you could wish to meet. They are utterly gorgeous; you would need a heart of pre-cast concrete to fail to adore them. They have their lessons on separate days - Katy today and Tamsin on Thursday.

Tamsin was absent the previous two weeks. She came to me today to explain that this was because of visits to the orthodontist and that she will be along tomorrow.

Katy came for her lesson and I had an idea. Starting with me, the exchange went thus:

"Hey Katy, I have just thought of a brilliant wind-up for Tamsin. You fancy taking part?"

"Oh yes please." It is what childhood best friends do, after all.

"Tell her that I said that I hoped that she had given up the piano and I would never see her again."

"Yep. Definitely. Up for that any time."

"You know how I always say that I only ever mean the kind things that I say, and never mean the insults?" Insult humour is fine but I am dealing with children, so it is vital that they understand me.

"Yes."

"So, I expect Tamsin to react with something along the lines of 'No he didn't', OK? Only keep it going for a few minutes if it looks as though she believes you. Seconds only if it looks as though she is about to burst into floods of tears. Got that?"

"Oh no. We can keep a wind-up going for days."

Hmmmmmmm. Katy is a typical 14 year old barmpot. I will let you know if she even remembers to apply the windup, and what happened afterwards. Don't hold your breath.

[SteveHopwood]

She forgot.

[SteveHopwood]

How is this little lot for a classic case of over-reaction to, and misinterpretation of, something a child says?

Never mind the hows, whys and wherefores, but I discovered a couple of weeks ago that one of my school piano pupils has visits from a counsellor because she is mildly autistic. A non-expert would probably not guess this from the child's behaviour - I certainly had not. I have experience of teaching mildly autistic children and so have some experience of how they react to certain situations. They need special handling.

I emailed the peri-teacher admin person and pointed out that it would be good for us to know if a child has some sort of special need. I do not, for example, want to ask a kid to tell her mum to order a book for her when mum died last week. OK, a slightly extreme example but possible, and imagine the subsequent dialogue........................

One of the characteristics of mildly autistic kids is that they can take things said to them literally, so my insult-humour might not necessarily be appropriate to them as they might forget my frequent reassurance that, "I only mean the kind things."

They can also have a weird sense of humour - often quite black.

School music teacher approached me last week with the info that the child is a potential self-harmer - this from the counselling service. Hard to imagine as the child is one of the sweetest 14 year olds I have met over a long, long career, but you never really know what is going on in a child's head.

Came this child's piano lesson and I noticed an elaborate decoration of a red butterfly on her right hand. She is left-handed, so I assume she had drawn it herself.

I pointed to it and remarked, "Lovely butterfly. You drew it yourself?"

She giggled and answered, "It is pretend blood. I love drawing pretend blood on myself. It is my guilty secret."

It would be lovely if, one day, child protection here in the UK could actually start to get something bloody well right for a change. I bet you anything you like that if this kids behaviour had changed out of all recognition and she had become withdrawn and defensive/aggressive, nobody would have bloody well noticed. Kids in this country can be trafficked for sex for years on end and nobody bats an eyelid. Instead, said child utters something daft but innocent and she is suddenly on a self-harm watch.

I bet you a fiver to a penny than none of the silly sods engaged in her 'protection' would have noticed if she had been slicing her upper arms. Even if the blood had been dripping.

Sorry this started out as a funny story and ended up as a rant. UK child protection is a joke and it riles me. 1% of everything I earn from Forex trading and related activities goes to our UK NSPCC; those guys are the only ones here who appear to really care about what happens to kids.

Better stop now as I am starting to foam at the mouth. Sorry.

[SteveHopwood]

Nikki was having a lot of trouble remembering to coordinate playing some notes in both hands at the same time.

I said to her, "Forget to play with both hands together this time, and I will stab you with the sharp end of my pencil."

She had another attempt and failed, so I muttered, "Ahhhh. I assume you like pain, do you?"

Quick as a flash came the response. "Obviously I do, or I would not have piano lessons with you." That called for a 'high five'. I was mightily impressed.

[SteveHopwood]

I teach Tamsin the piano. She is utterly gorgeous. I would write, "A child in a million" but aren't they all?

I stayed behind after school for the vocal group. Tamsin is a member. Rehearsing one song, Tamsin has a brief solo. She tried to sing it whilst covering her mouth with her hand. I happened to catch the eye of Georgina stood next to her, just as she started her already planned move. G gave a, "Yep, she is hopeless but what can we do?" gesture as she removed T's hand from her mouth.

Clearly used to this treatment, T carried on singing like a bird.

I love watching kids at work with their friends.

[SteveHopwood]

I stood in a corridor in school a couple of days ago.

A gaggle of teen girls approached. The behaviour of one of them was ridiculous. As the gaggle passed, one of the girls spotted me laughing, grinned at me and said, "She is taking immaturity to whole new levels of expertise."

[SteveHopwood]

I cannot resist posting this email exchange. I drive to a local village on a Sunday to give piano lessons to a father and daughter combo. In the house also is a lovely older son whom I know but never taught, and mum who is one lovely lady. I forgot to tell Dad about something I heard on the radio on the way to his house, and so sent him this later:

Ehup again. One of those little bits of info I picked up on the radio on my way to you today.

Up until 1952, a man could go to his doctor and get the doc to sign a form committing the man's wife and/or children to an asylum. The doctor was not even required to see the 'lunatic'.

I assume that few, if any, doctors acceded to the request without requiring a consultation with the 'lunatic'. At least, I hope few did.

Imagine being able to hang that threat over your two? "Behave yourself, or I will send you to an Asylum" would have a tad more force than, "Stop bickering you two, or your mum and I are off to the pub without you."

Cheers

Came back the reply:

Ha Ha sometimes our house feels like we've all been committed! The only useful threat I have left now is the fact that i can block their many devices from the Wi-Fi on the broadband router.

No internet for more an hour is like the end of the world - we go on holiday to the North York's moors at the end of the month, that will be fun when it's like the dark side of the moon.......

Cheers

No internet for an hour? A whole hour? A real, whole hour? How can he, the brute?

That last paragraph in the quote refers to the fact that the hotel they stay in has no internet - and that is for a whole week. To the kids, it is an introduction to what the Dark Ages was like.

Mind, not entirely sure I could do a week without the internet. I would write, "I will try it some time" but we all know that is just plain silly.

[SteveHopwood]

I was reminded yesterday of an incident that happened many years ago in the mid 1980's.

I had developed a reasonable solo performing career. I was never dedicated/mad enough to reach 'the top' and so was never able to earn a living as a top flight concert pianist. I have never regretted this; I have enjoyed relationships with individuals that would not have been possible otherwise, and which were facilitated in the first instance by my unashamedly brilliant piano playing.

A lot of successful concert pianists pull a lot of very strange facial expressions whilst playing. Lang Lang looks certifiable. I have never gone in for this sort of acting having never seen the attraction. I prefer to express emotion through my playing.

Vladimir Ashkenazy was my hero as I grew up. He was then, and I hope still is, a pianist of unrivalled brilliance. He is also the master of unrivalled face-pulling contortions.

A performance of his was televised. The day after, a little girl whom I adored from first sight and who had been taking lessons from me for several years announced, "You are not a Proper Pianist, are you?" This little girl had been dragged to a couple of my recitals by her parents and so had seen me in my full undemonstrative splendour and glory.

I replied, "Please do not tell all the music clubs/societies/orchestras paying me a half-way decent fee to perform in front of/with them. It is best they do not know. What gave the secret away? How do you know I am not a Proper Pianist?"

Came the inevitable reply, "I saw a Proper Pianist on telly last night. He pulled lots of faces. You do not."

Mum was a convulsed heap in the corner of the music room. I surrendered in the way most adults do when faced by irrefutable childhood logic, "Just play to me sweetheart, ok?"

[SteveHopwood]

Everybody who has ever taught children in any sort of establishment such as a school has one thing in common; we all view linking a lack of handing in of an assignment with animals, with the greatest of all possible suspicion.

For example, "Sorry Miss. I could not bring my homework because the dog ate it" guarantees detention on the spot.

Not from me, obviously, because the kids' 'homework' is practising the stuff we have worked on in their lesson. Who am I to say how much effort went into the playing that resulted the following week?

The point behind the background is this: kids think their animal-based reasons for not producing a piece of work will always be regarded with suspicion. Correctly, mostly.

Enter stage right, Tamsin. One of the sweetest, most diligent 14 year olds you could ever wish to meet.

She is mildly autistic, a condition that accentuates personality traits beyond the norm. She is: desperate to please her teachers; highly intelligent; not always able to read human signals as easily as the rest of us are, and so is prone to heavy self-doubt. Only a lunatic or a monster would ever doubt her word.

Tamsin's self-doubt kicked in big time this morning, in view of the news she had for me at her first lesson back after the holiday. Unable to face telling me herself, she persuaded mum to email in to the head of music.

HOM came to me well before Tamsin's lesson giggling hugely, holding in her hand the printout of an email from Tamsin's mum:

"Dear Mrs Sheppard

Please could you explain to Mr Hopwood that Tamsin might not play her prepared material very well today, because the Guinea Pig escaped just before Christmas. She had been loose for a few hours before we discovered her missing. A house wide search had her safely recovered but she had been gone for several hours. Whilst on the lam, she had taken a shine to the cable that connects Tamsin's electric keyboard to the plug socket. Lucky the instrument was turned off because the Pig chewed through it. We will replace the cable as soon as possible."

I have heard a wide variety of excuses for not having practised, but, "Sorry Sir. I have not been able to practise this week because the Guinea Pig ate my piano" is a first.