Thingies that happen to Steve in his other job

[SteveHopwood]

I enjoyed another lovely afternoon in school today. Nothing especially funny apart from this exchange with Gracie.

She looked at The Pencil That Once Was Lethally Sharp But Now Is Blunt Again and offered, "The pencil is blunt. I just bought a new pencil sharpener. Shall I sharpen it for you?"

"Yes please. That would be really helpful."

"OK, but you have to promise not to threaten me with it."

"I promise not to threaten you with it."

So Gracie duly sharpened the pencil and we continued with the lesson.

The Pencil That Once Was Lethally Sharp But Now Is Blunt Again had morphed into The Pencil That Once Was Lethally Sharp But Now Is Blunt Again Is Now Lethally Sharp Again. I shall shorten the description from here on.

Obviously Gracie eventually did something gormless. For the third time. This child has a brain the size of Jupiter and a common sense the size of an ant. I picked up The Lethally Sharp Pencil and growled, "Do that again and it is The Pencil for you."

Back came the plaintive reply, "But, but, but you promised not to threaten me with it."

"I lied."

"Awwwwwe."

"Ok," I replied, setting The Pencil with the sharp end pointing away from her. I have mentioned before that I know when I am beaten?

I had to miss a couple of Thursday afternoons recently, so there are 'catch up' afternoons planned after Easter. I will get to spend what will feel like at the time, extra time with this wonderful child. Can't wait.

Here is something I am contemplating. Would introducing G to the idea of Gareth's folder be a whole new source of entertainment, or would I merely be making a rod for my own back? How much would Gracie enjoy having a Defensive Folder against The Lethal Pencil? Would it result in too much wasted lesson time? Hmmmmmmm. I need to contemplate that one.

[SteveHopwood]

It is Saturday and the school has broken up for the Easter break. I had arranged an extra visit to school yesterday, to coax a recording out of Angelina. I was prepared to spend a couple of hours dinning this blasted piece into her skull before HOM attempted a recording.

We managed it, but I suffered. If I never hear, "Blue Sky Blue" again, it will still be too soon. Remember, "Castle on a Cloud?" We are talking that level of agony.

More of this later.

I pass through a huge reception area on my way into the school. Part of it is set aside for tending to wounded students. I noticed Gracie sat in obvious discomfort, with a friend and a staff member in attendance. There was no power on this earth that could have stopped me checking up that she was being properly looked after.

I approached and asked gently, "Sweetheart, what is the matter?" Gracie and friend were dressed in games kit. Gracie replied, "A ball hit me in the middle of my back. It hit me really hard and brought on my asthma." There followed a pull at her inhaler.

"Is that your third pull on the inhaler?" asked the attending staffer. "Yes," gasped a mournful Gracie. Staffer duly noted this down in a log. Everything has to be written down. If it comes to Coroners' Court, then it did not happen if it was not written down.

"Sweetheart." I offered, "You will feel better soon. We do not expect to be thumped heavily in the middle of our backs. It is a shock when it happens." Staffer nodded and smiled in agreement; we know each other.

<Sniff> "Yes, I suppose so." <Sniff> "Sir?"

"Yes?"

"If I were in this state in my piano lesson, would you still threaten me with The Pencil?"

"Of course not darling. I would be kind, considerate, warm and loving."

<Sniff> "I may be injured for some time."

"Then I will be kind, considerate, warm and loving for some time," I lied. Gracie grinned at me. I said, "I have to go angel. Miss will look after you. Have a lovely Easter break. Stay safe and come back to me safe and sound next term."

"I will sir."

She damn well better. Imagine the opposite? Perhaps best not.

--------------------------------------------

Back to Angelina. The performance exam rules have a nasty trick up their sleeves; the combined ensemble and solo performances have to last at least 4 minutes.

At the top end of the ability scale, this is laughable; coming in at less than 40 minutes would be the challenge. At Angelina's end, i.e. the bottom below the rump of the bottom, it is a mountain to climb. Whether kids with her level of ability should be taking this qualification is a matter for discussion elsewhere. Occasionally, I find myself having to deal with the result of them being allowed to do so.

I received an email from the head of music today saying that she had marked Angie's performances and found them to be 30 seconds short of the minimum time. Falling short of this minimum time results in a zero mark being awarded for the entire performance element - 30% of the overall exam. Disastrous.

Happily, if ludicrously, students are allowed to repeat a piece i.e. play it through uninterrupted, twice.

Thingy is, children are like railway trains; they drive along the tracks presented to them. The end of the track is exactly that - especially when they are children of limited ability. Simply sticking Angie down at the keyboard, setting up the recorder and demanding, "Play the piece twice" will not work. She will panic and collapse into hysterical tears - her default position when taken out of her comfort zone and the reason I was spending so much time with her.

So, guess what I shall be doing early on next term? Yipppeeeee.

Hey ho.

I really need a, "Shooting myself in the head" imogee right now, but there isn't one so I will sign off with my usual:

[SteveHopwood]

Not a funny this time, but a plea to all of those of you dealing with exam stressed 16 and 18 year old teens in the UK right now. There may be kids in other countries in the same state so I address these remarks universally; I only know about those in the UK.

I sensed that a 16 year old I taught today is stressed about her impending exams - a lot of us know the feeling. I held her close and offered up the mantra I give under these circumstances, "Listen sweetheart. Lots of us love you. Your mum. Your grand parents. Your relatives. Your friends. Me - and even I promise that you will never go hungry or homeless whilst I have food and shelter to offer you. All of us want you to succeed for you. We want you to have any success that you want for yourself, but that is for you. The only thing that we need is for you to come home safe and sound every evening. We will celebrate your successes with you. We will help you sort out your failures. Just come home safe and sound each evening, ok?"

The effect has probably worn off already. I will repeat it tirelessly over the coming weeks. It is the best I can do.

Those of you who know kids in the same position, I suggest you do the same or something similar. You never know, It might even save a precious life. Kids have been known to take their lives when suffering severe stress. Give it some thought, ok?

[SteveHopwood]

I have a new private pupil. 14 years old, ridiculously intelligent; highly talented; utterly gorgeous; been 'learning' for years.

Usual stuff; been taught bugger-all about the art of playing the piano; turned up with the requisite 3 exam pieces full of misreadings and utterly devoid of anything remotely resembling musical playing. It is hard to define, "musical playing" but we know it when we hear it and we recognise its absence when it is missing.

Wednesday was his fourth lesson. Dad, pupil and I have chatted amicably at the end of his previous three lessons; these guys have started to 'get' my sense of humour. Especially dad.

During the lesson, New Pupil did the same gormless thingy for the fifth time so I picked up A Blunt Pencil and growled, "Do that again, and I stab you with the blunt end of this pencil."

This is a totally different pencil to, "The Lethally Sharp Pencil". Blunt Pencil lives on my piano at home. Lethally Sharp Pencil lives in my briefcase and is reserved for Gracie et al.

The poor boy was clearly discomfited, so I put him out of his misery quickly. He instantly relaxed and hey presto, the problem that led to the threat disappeared.

Dad turned up to pick up pupil and asked, "How did he do?"

"Brilliantly," I replied picking up The Blunt Pencil, "although I had to threaten to stab him with the blunt end of this pencil at one point to get him to concentrate."

"Stab away" replied dad with a huge grin. "The threat of pain works wonders."

Makes a change for me to be ganging up on a pupil rather then the other way around.

[SteveHopwood]

I know you guys love a laugh at my expense and enjoy my suffering. Have a good giggle at my pain today, but perhaps also bear in mind the lesson I learned if you sre struggling with teens right now.

Back to school today and Angelina.

Remember how Head of Music had discovered that Angelina was short on playing time and so would not gain any marks at all for the performance of her GCSE music? That repeats are allowed, so long as they are not 'pointless'? That last phrase might be new - not sure.

Head of Music worked out this:

• play the left hand of the first four bars as an introduction.
• then back to the beginning and play the first couple of lines.
• then play a humongous bass note that announces, "This is a repeat folks"- standard practise, I promise. Bach used it. So did Haydn et al.
• then play the damn piece all the way through.

This would allow the damn piece to pass the minimum time limit - and the rules are actually far more complicated than I described in the previous post, but no need to go into them here.

Thingy is, kids of limited ability cannot deviate from the railway tracks they are used to travelling so I approached school today with a sickening sense of dread and despair. I knew what was awaiting me.

Yep. I was met by HOM and Angelina and a request that I coach Angie through managing the various strategies that HOM had cooked up.

I have to admire HOM's relentless search for a few more marks for her progeny. We recorded this damn piece over and over again. Every time, HOM growled, "No, you can do better and gain more marks." I was sat throughout, pointing with a pencil to where Angie should be looking on the score - and occasionally to where here hands should be on the piano.

At one point, the recording equipment broke down and wiped the previous hours' recordings.

"Not to worry" snarled HOM. "The previous recordings were not good enough. You can do better. Try again."

So on we went. We tried and tried and tried and tried. 90 minutes after starting, we finally had an acceptable recording in the can.

Angie was clearly deeply grateful. Yes, she balsed up big time right up until the last moment, but she appreciated hugely that two caring adults were prepared to pull out all the stops to help her on her way. Angie loves poetry and wants to be a teacher of English. Sounds like the right kind of kid to me.

I am 66 and do not expect life to teach me too many more lessons, but I learned one from Mrs Relentless Head of Music today. It might be one that anyone dealing with teens might care to bear in mind and it is this: never give up on them. I gave up on Angie a long time ago; I was wrong to do so. I will not do with a similar child in the future. I promise.

Unless she pitches up with, "Blue Sky Blues." Then I will torture her slowly to death.

Ok, so in reality, you guys know what I will do if some kid pitches up with, "Blue Sky Blues." Keep your fingers crossed for me pleaeeeeeeeeeese. I really do not want to hear it ever again.

[SteveHopwood]

One final one that I forgot about Angelina until it came back to me a few minutes ago. It goes back to that Friday I described a few posts ago.

We were waiting for Miss to emerge from teaching a class and attempt the first of many recordings. I sensed that continuing to practise the bloody Blue Sky Blues was going to become counter-productive. I said to Angje, "Have you got something useful you can be doing whilst we take a break and wait for Miss?"

Angie replied in the affirmative, dug into her bag, drew out a book and proceeded to annotate it. Intrigued, I watched for a while then gently interrupted. "Angie," I asked, "what are you reading?"

"My poetry anthology" she replied. "I love poetry."

A few minutes later I asked, "What are you going to do next year, Angie?"

"I am going to college to study English" she replied. "I want to be an English teacher." Miss appeared shortly after that, so I interrupted her no longer.

Another note to myself: NEVER EVER give up on a teen. S/He deserves the best you can give. I offer this up to everyone else here who has dealings with teens. I learned a lesson this week.

[SteveHopwood]

We managed to coax a good recording of Fur Elise out of Krysztian for his GCSE music performance today - accurate, fluent and musical. After he left the room, HoM and I looked at each other and sighed with relief.

I said, "When he first started hacking that piece to bits roughly a year ago, I never dreamed for a moment that he would end up playing it that well." She grinned back evilly and replied, "It is amazing the effect that desperately needing marks can have on a student - and I have not stopped reminding him for two years."

Harry is a year 12, so in his last but one year at school. I do not teach him but he is an 'A' level music student and so I bump into him often. I teach his year 10 sister, Heather. Harry is a large boy and extremely strong - a keen rugby player.

Come the end of the afternoon, he was using one of the computers in my teaching room when Heather walked in and sat down with him. They were bickering within seconds.

I had packed up and was walking towards the door when I said in a grandfatherly sort of voice, "Now now Argue nicely children."

Heather grinned at me and replied, "I always win." She gestured dismissively toward her brother and added, "This lump may be big and strong, but I have female persistence on my side. I always get my own way in the end."

Harry tried to argue but I could see from the look of resignation on his face that Heather's statement was a reality. I sympathise; it is the sort of defeat I face all the time at the hands of Gracie, Dommy et al.

I wandered out to gang up on our guitar teacher, Paul, with JC - something we do every Thursday. Harry wandered out into the corridor a few minutes later. JC is also year 10 but it transpires that he is good friends with Harry. There followed a few minutes of banter, then Harry picked up JC's guitar case and walked back with it to my teaching room.

JC gave a little jump of surprise a few minutes later and announced, "My guitar case has vanished." "Harry stole it," I informed him, "so you have lost it for ever". He dashed off down the corridor and emerged breathless but triumphant a couple of minutes later announcing, "He may be big, but he is soft as they come. Plus, he is ticklish and Heather helped."

[SteveHopwood]

I already knew that Katie is astonishing. 15 years old now but coming up to her 16th early in May.

I have described earlier that she has a photographic memory. It turns out that this is merely part of a vast memory ability which is informed by fantastic organisational skills.

Katie is devoting all her time to exam revision these days and does not touch the piano in between lessons. She does not read music, so I teach her pieces by rote i.e. "Copy what I do." OK, so not an approach I like but all I am trying to do right now is give a highly stressed near-GCSE child a happy half-hour. Ok, so we stretch it to well beyond the 30 minutes I get paid for, but you get my drift?

The astonishing bit of our piano lessons is this: Katie announces, "Sorry but I have not done any practise again this week. I can remember what we did last week but cannot play it." And then plays it as near perfectly as it is possible to imagine.

I wish all my other pupils could play as badly as Katie. Imagine what she will achieve when she turns her mind to playing the piano - she will need something to occupy her time once the exams have passed.

I taught mum first today; Katie last. We all got chatting after the lessons - I do rather adore these two so I am in no hurry to escape. Mum mentioned that K is stressed out over the impending exams, so I Took An Opportunity.

"Listen up sweetheart," I intoned to K, "I will repeat the mantra I offered up to you a couple of weeks ago. Back then it was just to you. Now I am saying it in front of your mum; she will not disagree, trust me. All of us who love you want you to be successful because that is what you want. All we need is for you to come home safe and sound each evening. Just come home safe and sound each evening, OK? We will celebrate the best of what happens and help you deal with the worst. Just come home safe and sound each evening."

Mum confirmed with vast enthusiasm. Obviously.

We carried on chatting and mum mentioned that K is not getting much RnR. That led to how I knew that K has this fantastic revision regime, and that she had described it to me before - but at a time when I had not known this child for long enough to know how fantastic she is.

Most 16 year olds 'revise' by reading their teacher- dictated notes over and again in the hope that something will 'go in'. Sound familiar? It does to me.

Here is what Katie does:

• Acquires a syllabus and makes a précis of the areas of study it involves then:
  • area by area, notes all the facts she needs to know within each area of study.

I asked to see an example, so she ran upstairs and brought down a folder containing the Physics notes she had made. Amazing. Stunning. I will try to help her sell them after the exams; not sure how, so I will look into this. And she had done this for every subject she is studying. Her teachers have asked if they can have copies of their work. K and mum have wisely refused. K at 15 has already done what far older 'teachers' have failed to do.

And she hates Physics, so imagine how good she is in a subject she enjoys?

Mum mentioned K's stress levels so I added, "I know you are worried about your upcoming exams. I know you are highly competitive and want to beat everybody in the entire world. You are far more likely to succeed if you take some time out occasionally. You achieve more in an hour than most students your age achieve in a week. I tell you what: go and phone a friend and arrange to spend tonight out."

"Can't. My maths tutor is coming." I had forgotten how much she loves her sessions with the maths tutor on a Saturday night.

"OK, so phone one tomorrow and go out for the afternoon." Mum was nodding enthusiastically.

I bet anyone here a tenner that it does not happen. Hey ho. I will continue to back up mum in her efforts to show this kid that life can be a better balance than hers is at the moment. It is the best I can do.

[SteveHopwood]

Back in school today and one final, final report on Angelina. I have suffered great pain for this child, but you have already worked out for yourselves that there is nothing that is non-physically invasive or legal that I would not do for any kid that comes within my range. Even something illegal would have to be massively bad and harmful to others would not be outside my capability if the child really needed it.

So imagine my delight when HOM told me she had awarded Angie 36/60 marks. Music teachers mark the individual performances then overall moderators ensure that the marks awarded are correct. They might make tiny changes but HOM is herself an examiner, so Angie's result will remain at 50% plus a few.

Brilliant result for a kid with so little natural talent for playing. Fantastic for the two adult pro musicians plus a few more who feel as though this child has dominated their lives for quite a long time. We did our bit, for sure.

And in case you are wondering: no, we did not neglect the rest. They were just easier and quicker to get done, that is all. Phew. Would we have done the same for an entire class of Angelinas? You bet. There just might have been a few more calls to therapists. Or alcohol deliveries.

Dommy again. Starting with me and alternating:
"How was your Easter break?" (He didn't get a lesson last week because of Angie).
"Good thanks. I got my bed back."
<boggling a bit> "Where did your bed go?"
"My mum took it."
<sensing a tease, but only too happy to play along> "Why did your mum take your bed?"
<giving that look that kids reserve for clearly demented adults> "Because we were decorating my room. Obviously."

A quick aside. I love the 'We' in, "We were decorating my room." A fiver says that 'We' were actually in a different room talking to friends on social media whilst the work was going on. Moving on to me again:

"So where did you sleep?"

<bristling with teen indignation> "On a mattress in the middle of the floor."

Another aside. Never mind why and not because of poverty, but so have I for a few years now. I find it comfortable. I could not resist a wind-up, so continuing with me

"I sleep on a mattress in the middle of the floor."

<clearly dealing with a lunatic> "Why?"

"I am bed frame phobic."

"Bed frame phobic?"

"Yep."

"A phobia of bed frames?"

"Yep".

<clearly, and sensibly disbelieving> "You don't"

"I do."

"You don't"

"I do."

"There is no such thing."

"Yes there is. People have phobias of the most unlikely thingies."

This all happened at the end of the lesson and time was up so I said my usual mantra, "Take care Dommy. Have a wonderful time and come back to me safe and sound next week."

"You too sir. Still don't believe you" and off he went, probably reflecting of the lunacy of the adults entrusted with his education.

I might try to keep this going next week.

[SteveHopwood]

A 14 year old boy came for a private lesson again today. I needed to sub-divide one of his pieces into sections for him, and he started wittering at me just at a time when I needed to concentrate, so I snarled, "Shut up for a minute and let me concentrate."

I knew what the so-and-so was doing the instant I saw him out of the corner of my eye, hold his wrist pointedly up to his face - he was timing me to see if I needed the full minute.

I finished and demanded, "OK smartarse, I know what you are doing. You can stop timing me."

He carried on.

I tried again.

He carried on. The light dawned. I had told him to shut up for a minute, so he was timing that minute.

"Ok," I intoned, "I get what you are doing. You can speak now."

"Three quarters of a second to go," he announced triumphantly.

Yep. Defeated yet again by a teen. Hey ho.