Thingies that happen to Steve in his other job

[SteveHopwood]

A couple of non-school related incidents this week. This first one will mean nothing unless you are a coder.

Remember Ben who turned out to be Carl? Said nothing for weeks even though I was calling him by his wrong name? Once he started talking, he never stopped?

He has not stopped talking since and I had the joy of meeting up with him again in prep for his G5 Sax exam.

Carl was here during the recent autumn session nearly 4 months ago and we discovered our mutual love of programming. He had started his GCSE computer science course and was learning to program in Python. He described to me a program he was trying to write.

We did our stuff this Thursday gone, and our conversation turned to programming with the inevitability of me melting in the face of Megan's Tiger-taming look.

"I am struggling with 2D arrays," he announced. I explained how to extract information from them. It turns out that he does not fully understand loops, so loops within loops to interrogate a grid is something he needs to get to grips with.

I suspect I will be called upon in the future and so have downloaded Python to play with in coming months. I am no Rene, but from what Carl says I suspect I know a bit more about programming than does his teacher.

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

Evan came for a rehearsal for his G2 Sax earlier today.

Oh boy, but you should meet this child. 10 years old; smile to die for; brain the size of Jupiter; brilliant sense of humour. Multiply the last two by a factor of 10. You would take him into your heart and home in a heartbeat if you found him wandering the streets. He will never go hungry or homeless whilst I am around to prevent this from happening.

One of his pieces had one of those piano accompaniments. One that I cannot sight read - remember Little Brown Jug from last autumn? It was one of those.

"Sorry Evan," I apologised after a massacre of about our fifth attempt, "I will learn it in time for next week." He grinned and replied, "I know. The same happened last time." I had forgotten that - painful memory blanked out.

We were well into the usual pattern of: play the pieces several times; look at the Aural tests; cry over the Aural tests; play the pieces again; crash the chocs. We had reached the look at the Aural tests bit. I said, "OK, so after this, we play the pieces again and then I crash the chocs."

Came the reply, "I know. I remember it well."

I stated, "It is only fair. Aural tests are a form of child cruelty, so mitigating the pain with chocs has to be the way to move forward."

<pretend sob> "They helped." <sniff> "So much." <sniff>

I crashed extra chocs.

[SteveHopwood]

It turns out that I was about as completely wrong about my ability to win over Amy as it is possible to be. She has emerged from her shell brilliantly.

I had an extra lesson booked in with her on Tuesday that she did not turn up for.

I bumped into her in the corridor at the end of the day and demanded, "Amy. Where were you earlier?"

Amy looked mystified and replied, "Ummmmmmmm?"

"We had a lesson booked for 1.30"

"That is tomorrow," she replied starting to look for her instrumental lesson pass.

"Darling," I said, "tomorrow is Wednesday. I do not teach here on a Wednesday unless I am doing some catching up on lessons that I missed."

"Oops." <giggle - and not an entirely nervous one>

I put on the closest I can come to a stern face - imagine a Teddy Bear trying to do the same. I said, "Miss an extra lesson again and I will issue you with a detention."

There was the tiniest hesitation before Amy's face cleared and she replied, "Only if you promise to get my timetable right every time." I knew I was beaten, and a good thingy too as it transpired today.

This bloody timetable is my nemesis. It should not be difficult. The x axis holds the dates. The y axis holds the times. Each individual cell contains a letter that corresponds to the name of the victim assigned to me. These change each week so that no child misses exactly the same class time each week.

This crashes straight into my lack of attention to detail - remember all my copy/paste/forger-to-edit bloops?

So when both Gracie and Amy turned up for a lesson at the same time I knew it was my fault without investigating. I investigated in a hopeless attempt to absolve myself but yes, it was me.

Again.

You can perhaps imagine that I always admit culpability in these situations. I would hate to be one of those people who shift the blame for a bloop on to someone else - especially a child. I admitted my mistake.

Amy looked smug and said, "Aren't you glad you didn't give me a detention on Tuesday?"

"Did I ever mention that it is possible to go off a child?"

<big grin> These give me soooooo much joy.

I needed to sort out who was to stay and who was to leave and come back later. I asked Gracie what she was missing. It was Dance, something she hates but she explained, "The lesson is over soon and I have learned The Dominic Walk and so will not arrive before the end of the class."

Amy announced, "My lesson is Chemistry. We are doing An Assessment. I am rubbish at Chemistry." I allowed her to stay for a double lesson and Gracie came for a double to finish off the afternoon. They had a great time. I had a great time. We were all happy. No idea if putting off The Assessment helped Amy in the longer term, but I have remarked before that all I can do is the best I can for the child presented to me.

I mentioned, "The Dominic Walk" earlier. It turns out that Gracie and Dommy attend a debating club after school one day a week. Dommy is 15 and Gracie is only 12, but she is a very fast learner.

I do not remember how it came up, but I found myself describing The Dominic Walk to G a couple of weeks ago. She has since seen it in action. Dommy turned up for the debating club at head of the queue for entry but having forgotten the material he needed to be able to take part in the debate. G said that it was a long queue and she was well towards the back of it. When everyone else had filed in, D was at the end and was never called upon to speak.

I might have created a second monster. First we had The Folder. Now we have The Dominic Walk.

Not entirely sure I should have introduced a bright 12 year old to The Dominic Walk but hey, the genie is out of the bottle here.

Nor am I entirely sure that it matters. Most of us reading this will have enjoyed an education or we would not be here. Those of us in soft places like the UK enjoyed a full education, some of which we did not like. We did our best to get out what we did not like. It is called being a human being.

[SteveHopwood]

Lexie is a diminitive 12 year old pupil of guitar teacher Paul, She is coming up to her G2 exam next week and Paul asked me to help her with the Aural tests a few weeks ago. Lexie and I have spent a few happy minutes together each Thursday since. She is bright and talented, so the tests are not difficult for her.

Examiners are not supposed to indicate to the candidate how the exam is progressing. This is not so harsh as it sounds. Imagine the effect on the child of an exam going badly if the judge is continually snarling, "Wrong."

The problem with this is that judges are also parents and grandparents, so refraining from being encouraging during the course of an exam is difficult for them. "Thank you" after the performance of most of the exam does the job well.

The aural tests are different. The candidate cannot be allowed to see the piano and so finds herself face to face with t'judge across the top of it, with an examiner struggling not to indicate whether the answers she is giving are correct of not. T'judge can appear to be fierce. Many of you will have been there in the past.

I reminded Lexie of this and said we would practice me being the stern-looking judge. I said, "I don't know if I will manage it, but I will try my hardest. I am hard wired to want to make children smile. For now, imagine I am trying to hate you." She giggled. I sternly ordered her to stand opposite to me. Bless her, she did look slightly nervous and I nearly cracked immediately. I managed to hold myself in check but my attempt to imagine hating her folded instantly. It never really stood a chance.

Paul had walked in on all of this and stood at the back of the room to watch.

There are four tests in this section of the exam. Lexie knows them so well that I do not need to explain them but I was, "Being an examiner" and did the full introductory spiel.

We did the first test and Lexie got the answer immediately. I glared across the piano at her, then explained the second test.

Which she answered immediately and correctly. "Well done sweetheart. Fabulous." Oops.

I said, "Sorry Lexie. Being po-faced comes really hard to me. I will do better this time." She giggled.

So, question 3 answered correctly and immediately. "Fabulous darling. Well done." Oops.

I gave up. "Sorry Lexie. I just cannot do it. Making children happy is what I live for. Just remember that examiners have more practise at being serious than me, ok?"

Lexie giggled and promised that she would.

Paul told me afterwards that he knew I had no chance of remaining straight-faced for the entire exchange. In fact, he was amazed that I managed the first test.

Lexie's exam is a week today so we have one more session booked on Tuesday. I will spend some time in between visualising remaining straight-faced when practising with Lexie. It will be hard to be so when face to face. You should see her folks. She is soooooooooooooo cute. OK, so when was a diminutive 12 year old not cute, but you get my drift. Hey ho.

So why do the likes of Paul and I continue to expose the like of the kids we teach to what I attempted to do to Lexie today and will continue to do to the likes her in the future? Simple. She can learn under kind and supportive circumstances that life is a race and that the first past the post wins the prize, or she can fail. 5 years from now Lexie will be doing her university interviews. Depending on how her Uni career goes, then subsequently what happens will depend on how she does in her job interviews. Anything I can do to help her see into the future, I am only too happy to do.

And yes, I hope I see Lexie for several years to come. She is gorgeous.



Edit a few weeks later:
Lexie passed with Distinction.

[SteveHopwood]

It was woodwind exam day today. The highlight came from 11 year old Evan.

Hehe. Evan caused some chaos. His second piece is one of those pieces - defeated my sight-reading in an instant at our first rehearsal. Think, "Little Brown Jug" here. I kept the copy so I could learn it. The first piece was a doddle, so there was no need to keep it.

We did our final two rehearsals at his house as I visit the town on a Saturday afternoon these days. Evan took the piano part for piece 1 from his music case both times, so I assumed on Saturday that he would replace it again after our final run-through.

So come the day of the exam and we trooped off to the warm-up room this afternoon. I adore Evan. Talented, smile to die for, brain the size of Jupiter. No common-sense. (Parents all over the world are nodding in agreement when I ask, "Sounds familiar?") I had forgotten to factor that last statement into my calculations.

"The important bit first, " I announced. "Come and pick out your therapies" whilst spreading the Roses out in my briefcase. He picked out the requisite number. Quick as a flash he was opening one. "STOP. These are for after the exam. You cannot play the sax with a gob-full of chocolate."

Cheeky little sod grinned and took a tiny bite out of the fudge he had just opened. "Sorry he said, "Could not resist." I glared at him and said, "Eat any more of that and I confiscate the rest of them. Throw it away."

There was no bin handy, so I did the thingy that adults have been doing for kids since the dawn of sweets; I wrapped it in a tissue and put it in my pocket. Thanks Evan. I replaced the therapy with an unmolested one; I am not a sadist.

"I need the piano part for the first piece" I said.

"You have it" came the reply.

"No I haven't."

"Yes you have. You took it on Saturday."

"No I didn't. I left it as always, on your keyboard."

A few seconds thought as he churned recent events around in his mind. "Ummmmm. It might still be on the keyboard."

My fault. I should have made sure everyone knew what E had to bring with him but did not think to do so.

T'Judge was entirely unfazed and said at one point, "You would be amazed how many times this sort of thing happens." We swapped next candidate Joel for Evan, whilst dad arranged to meet mum half way between home and the centre to pick up the piano part. They live only 10 minutes away from the centre so the piano part turned up in plenty of time. Phew.

All went swimmingly from that point and I even doled out a few more therapies to Evan for coping with the trauma so well.

[SteveHopwood]

Two wonderful stories from today. They both concern Gracie. This child is turning into Miss Certifiable Nutter of 2019.

I was teaching Nikki when Gracie pitched up 10 minutes early. "We have plenty of time left" I informed Nikki. "Gracie has turned up 10 minutes early. She is wanting to avoid something."

We both looked up at her and I asked, "Ehup Gracie. What are you avoiding?"

"A French speaking exam."

I sympathised. I remember trying, and totally failing, to learn to speak French during my school days. Sorry citizens of France; it is not your fault. French teaching in the UK has been lamentable for ever.

Then G continued, "I also have to miss my next class, History. I have not done some homework because two friends guilt-tripped me into helping them with their Maths homework, so I ran out of time for the History. I do not want to get a detention."

Bearing in mind that this is the child who once claimed to have finished her homework at 11.00 pm. I could have massacred her last statement. Maybe one day I will have to for her ultimate benefit. For now, I am happy to enjoy the entertainment.

I said, "OK, so your official piano lesson takes care of the first half of History. You will need to sneak very quietly into the second half and hope not to me noticed."

Came the mistressful reply, "No need. I will use The Dominic Walk."

I have indeed helped create a monster.

<The spell checker did not flag "mistressful" as a spelling mistake. Is it really a word?>

We continued. I needed to photocopy something for her and so left the room to do so. I was greeted on my return to G sporting a small piece of card with an eye drawn on it, supported by the ridge of her glasses.

I sighed and with a heavy heart asked, "OK darling. I know I am going to regret asking this, but why are you wearing a picture of an eye placed between the top of your glasses and the ridge of your nose?"

"It is my all-seeing Eye. It allows me to see all round even when I have dozed off."

"No it doesn't."

"Yes it does."

A short pause and then Gracie continued, "Obviously it doesn't but I love to wear it until a teacher becomes exasperated and shouts at me. Then I take it down."

This child is not an idiot, so I suspect she selects the victims of her prank with care.

I ignored the all-seeing-eye from then on and continued with the lesson. Charlie wandered in for his. Apart from responding to my, "Ehup Charlie" when he first appeared, he took no further notice of us as he wandered towards the piano.

A few yards away he looked up and spotted Miss Certifiable Nutter of 2019 and her all-seeing eye. He thought for a few seconds and then muttered, "No. I do not want to know" and sat down with his back to us.

[SteveHopwood]

A story from yesterday that I forgot to tell you folks. I have been teaching 16 year old Alice ever since I started at the Academy - she was 12 back then. She has never been in good health all the time I have known her and has missed a lot of school.

She recounted her latest travails to me yesterday - a diagnosed vitamin B deficiency. We agreed that she is just a wreck and she said mournfully, "I do not expect to see my 30th birthday."

Alice was not being overly dramatic. Aged 16, someone aged 30 is geriatric, but her statement somehow hit me hard. I hugged her close and told her that she must see her 30th, even if only for me.

Dommy picked that moment to walk in and naturally wanted to know what was going on. Alice explained. Dommy said, "The way I behave sometimes, it will be a wonder if I see 30 as well."

"Oy you two," I exclaimed, "Stay alive. I cannot bear the idea of attending your funerals."

Quick as a flash - we are talking lightening speed here - Alice grinned and said, "What makes you think you are invited?"

"Ooooooo," came Dommy, "that was harsh."

I replied, "True, but impressively fast. Calls for a high-five." Alice and I did a high-five then I told her to shove off as it was Dommy's turn to be abused by me. Or should that be vice-versa?

[SteveHopwood]

A lovely story from yesterday. Amy has bought in to the, "Steve is Mr Softie" thingy big time.

Gracie was about 2 minutes into her lesson when a mournful Amy appeared and whimpered, "I feel really, really sick and it is Chemistry now." The natural suspicion is that her loathing of Chemistry and her 'feeling ill' are linked but she did look terrible. Her lesson was due after Gracie so I asked her if she wanted to hide in with us. There was not a hint of mischief in her, "Oh, yes please" response.

There was no Megan today, so I let her sit in the comfy chair and she slumped over the table. Amy is a remarkable actress if this was an act. It looked so genuine that I put a bin down beside her just in case she needed to throw up. She barely moved."

Come the end of Gracie's lesson I said to Amy, "Darling, you are in no fit state for a piano lesson and I have a gap at the end of the day. Would you like me to do a double session with Gracie and see if you are ok a bit later on." "Yes please," came the plaintive reply.

"Is that OK Gracie, or would you prefer go go back to class?" Gracie beamed hugely and replied, "No thanks. I will stay. The lesson is Art and I really like it so I have arranged to make up the time after school. I am doing a full 50 minute catch-up. My parents know."

Another 10 minutes of so later, Amy was clearly on the mend. She was starting to fidget, a wonderful contrast to the non-moving, non-communicating child of the previous 30 minutes. I said, "Would you like to log on to your computer account and find something to entertain yourself?"

"Yes please, " she answered. "I love the games from 2010 that we can find on here."

So I left her to it and continued with Grace. About 5 minutes later Amy announced, "I have found a game called, 'Furry Elephant'."

A few minutes later and with 5 minutes to go until the start of the next class, Gracie and I had run out of steam. I let her join Amy in doing whatever the "Furry Elephant" game required them to do. They spent a happy few minutes whilst I sat concocting in my mind, an explanation for why a Y9 and a Y7 pupil who should have been in a lesson were in fact, playing a computer game whilst in my care, should a senior member of staff walked in.

I am not entirely sure that my explanation would have impressed such an august body. Depends on their sense of humour, I suppose.

The bell went and I told them both to shove off an leave me alone. Amy's next lesson was her GCSE music class just a couple of doors up. There is never a problem about one of those students coming for a piano lesson, so she was able to fill the gap in my timetable last thing in the afternoon.

[SteveHopwood]

It was great to be back in school today, after the Easter break. On entry to room 149 I was faced with the usual bevy of Y12 girls and Y13 'A' level music student Harry. "Ehup sir" came the usual sweet chorus of greeting.

"Ehup wonderful people," I replied.

"And Harry."

"Oy" came H's reply.

I had a couple of blank periods to start the afternoon so I wandered up the corridor to chat with the music teacher. Charlie appeared after a while to ask if he could have a lesson on top of his timetabled Thursday one, so back to 149 we trooped.

My instructions to Charlie during the last lesson before the holiday were to make sure he could play fluently, the piece I had taught him over the previous weeks. Come today and he sat expectantly at the piano, no sign of the piece. I had kept a copy and so dug it out and placed it in front of him.

"I thought we had finished this," he announced. I love the "we". I last finished something like it at the age of 6. I reminded him of my instructions. "Oh," came the reply.

I was not going to give him a hard time - he had sought me out to ask for an extra lesson, after all. I asked, "Not to worry if the answer to this next question is 'No' Charlie; you will not be in any trouble. Have you worked on the piece during the holiday."

His reply of, "Yes" was instantaneous and definite.

Then his playing proved conclusively that he had not. Much of it was bad but he was utterly clueless about the last line - stuff I had already 'taught' him three times. I asked, "Charlie, do you know what the word 'fluent' means?"

<starting to sense danger> "Yes sir."

"And do you really think that your playing was fluent just now?"

<sensing the approaching storm> "Ummmm. Yes sir."

<stern glare over the top of my glasses> "Try answering that question again."

<when you are already in a hole, stop digging> "No sir."

I taught him that bloody last line again. Kindly. Gently. Encouragingly. He had sought me out for the extra lesson after all; the last thingy I want to do is discourage such initiative.

Having taught Charlie this blasted line again, I decided to go on the attack.

"Charlie, " I snarled, "you are a standard issue 14 year old boy and so are hard-wired to automatically ignore anything that people tell you. I understand this. However, ignore what I am about to tell you and I will punish you."

I continued, "Spend a lot of time ensuring that you can play the last line fluently in time for Thursday or you will suffer. I am not sure how. There is no power on this earth will make me give you a detention. Hades will freeze over before I will shout at you. You could slap me in the face and I would assume that something has gone horribly wrong in your life and you have just melted down, and try to help."

Just in case: "You wouldn't suddenly slap me in the face, would you?"

<gorgeous Charlie grin> "No sir."

Sticking in the knife now, "But, my wonderful young friend, I am very imaginative when it comes to dreaming up ways of torturing young people that are both legal and that society would not regard as morally reprehensible. I will dream up one for you come Thursday, if need be. Now go away and don't come back until you can play that last line. Fail on Thursday and I will inflict said torture upon you."

"Yes sir."

All very well the bluff but it left me with the problem of dreaming up a sanction that I would actually be prepared to use and that would be of benefit to Charlie.

Happily for me, Gareth was due for his weekly trumpet/piano/natter session. G is searingly intelligent and very imaginative, so I put the problem to him. "Easy," came the instant reply. "Give him a sheet of manuscript paper and a pencil and make him write out the line. Activities do not come much duller than that."

Many, many years ago at music college, one of our prof's told us that writing out by hand a passage we were struggling to learn would help us learn it more quickly. I occasionally used this back then but had forgotten.

So now I have it; a sanction that will both bore the kid rigid and help him learn the passage.

[SteveHopwood]

Gracie bounced in for her piano lesson today and announced that she has found a cable for that blasted keyboard that should never have been built, let alone still be in use.

Amy came in for her lesson, Ukulele in hand. Remember the lost Ukulele incident? Unable to resist, I asked, "Left it anywhere good lately?" She grinned and replied, "I had to go back to the Maths room today to pick it up again. I put it into a little alcove and have a habit of forgetting it at the end of the lesson. At least I knew where I had left it this time."

We were consigned to the Dungeon today - aka The Shame of the Black Hole of Calcutta. Amy is learning a piece with a left hand chord at the start of each bar and was having trouble remembering to play it so I said, "Tell you what poppet. Every time you forget a chord, I shall call you an idiot."

Amy would forget. "Idiot." Forget again. "Idiot." Forget again. "Idiot." She got the idea eventually.

We had the door open to make the room bearable; it is on a main corridor so there is a lot of movement outside. I asked, "I wonder what people walking past when they hear me calling you an idiot? I will get into trouble one day."

Came the instant reply, "Don't worry. I will stick up for you."

"Awwwwwww sweetheart. Thank you."

<full power beam> "How else would I get out of chemistry?"

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Charlie could play that last line today.

[SteveHopwood]

Gracie announced that she had left the new lead for her benighted bloody keyboard in her dad's car and that he had since sold the car. "Get something sorted out," I growled. "This is getting ridiculous."

Obviously I did not keep on my growly face for the rest of the lesson. Come the end of it though, I donned it again and demanded, "Come with me."

I took her through to the school's current music teacher. Kids can book the practise room during lunch, breaks and after school so long as they see him to do so. I explained about the keyboard at home and said that Gracie would need to book some practise sessions. 'Sir' reiterated that all she needed to do was see him.

"Gracie is going to book some now," I said. Then I fixed her with a gimlet glare and demanded, "Aren't you, darling?"

Yes sir.

I left them to it.

I have offered Amy extra piano lessons after school on Thursday, an offer she has taken up. I told her she could bring friends with her if she wanted, so she turned up with one. Come the end of the session I said, "I will bring some fruit gums next week, angel".

"I don't like fruit gums."

"OK, I will bring Maltesers."

"I don't like Maltesers."

Amy's friend had been quietly reading a book until this point. She chimed in with, "Amy doesn't like much of anything. She is very picky."

I replied, "Yes, but a 13 year old girl not liking Maltesers?"

"She's a freak."

Then a few seconds quiet reflection was followed by, "But if you bring them next week, I will eat them."

"OK."