One of my noobs at school is Bailey, a Y7. One way and another, today was only her second lesson. This bloody virus causes chaos everywhere.
I had finished with Charlie/Sam and was photocopying when Bailey approached. "Ahhhh," I intoned, "Fresh meat."
B gave me that level look reserved by small children for adults clearly in the final stages of dementia and replied, "Try to eat me and I will run away and get my dad to shout at you."
"Fair enough. Send me one of your fellow pupils instead."
"Can't. They would not be allowed outside of our year bubble." Damn. Foiled
again.
Most kids, at some stage, will try to play the piano with their legs crossed. B went one better and had her right foot resting on her left thigh. I pointed to this and said, "If I ever see you trying to play the piano like that again, I will rip your arm from its shoulder and beat you senseless with the soggy end."
She pulled a face, said, "Yuk" and settled in for the next bit of the performance.
I was explaining the need for a good posture and relaxed fingers when playing. I played her the gentle intro to a song I am accompanying, then demonstrated what happens to the tone when the body and fingers go into a state of tension. It is a stark difference and one I do not need to pretend.
Later on, B's left foot found its way to her right thigh. "Which arm do you want to lose, angel?" I asked. Followed a few seconds of confusion, then her face cleared and foot was planted firmly back on the floor accompanied by, "Oops. Sorry."
Later on I was explaining why we learn to read the notation rather than write the letter names of all the notes in the score. The gentle into I mentioned earlier was, "On My Own" from the musical Les Miserables. Absolutely nothing to play but thick and black and terrifying looking when a child is just starting out and a 'long' piece has about 30 notes in it. The point I wanted to make was the length of time it would have taken to notate all of the score; easier in the long run to learn to read the code.
A point that was eventually well made but there was a bit of a diversion first. I showed B the score.
"Bloody 'ell" leaped from her lips.
Followed instantly by the realisation of what she had just said. Hand went instantly to mouth and the look of terror in her eyes was for real this time.
I did not torture her even for a second. I said with all the kindness in my voice that I could muster, "Never mind poppet. Stuff just comes out of our mouths from time to time. Gob utters before brain can intervene and stop it. I know the feeling. My brain only occasionally communicates with my gob and nearly always too late."
Huge relief from Bailey.
"Mind, "I said, "something for you to think about." I paused briefly and then continued, "Picture in your mind, your scariest teacher." Every school has at least one; the sort of teacher that even Stalin would not have crossed.
"Is it a he or a her?" I asked. "A her," came the reply. Strange, but it is always a her.
I continued, "Imagine coming out in front of her with what you just came out with in front of me."
B looked a little pale. "Best not to?" I asked. "Definitely," she agreed with alacrity.
I love it when child and I are in total agreement.
I am not sure how much longer the school will remain open. I was chatting to one of the clerical staff earlier whilst waiting for the photocopier to become clear and she said that the town is a hotbed of the disease. It is rampant through the town. All I can do is hope for the best.
