Thingies that happen to Steve in his other job

[SteveHopwood]

I forgot.

Did Kiera get a part in Matilda?

Of course she bloody well did - and a solo. Ours is a school that took her in. She can sing. Would be damn ridiculous if we then barred her from the musical just because she cannot see.

My Xmas project is to learn the piano part; about 25% in s far. I shall meet K again soon.

[SteveHopwood]

Reading back, I see that I once resolved not to get involved in the Christmas concert.

Got that one wrong, didn't I?

Hey ho.

[SteveHopwood]

Back in school today after the Christmas break, to be greeted by the latest group of Motley Musicians in 146.

OK, so these kids were already starting to congregate at the end of last term but I never got around to telling you about them. Plus, one way or another they were all taking part in the Christmas concert so I only got to know all of them during the preparations.

I have written this before and will undoubtedly will do so again about different groups of kids in the future so nothing new but here goes. I wish you could meet these kids. They are sooooooooooooooo gorgeous.

As I pitched up before the break there were different groups of sweeties practising various of the bits they would have to play/sing. It was wonderful to sit amongst the cacophony and enjoy the pleasure they were all experiencing.

Come today and they were just making a noise. Julia and Lillyana (henceforth known as Lilly unless I want to tease her as she hates the full form of her name - which child does not, however pretty the name?) were sat at a piano and working out a duet of a song from a musical by studying the score on a phone.

Others were simply playing stuff. Sometimes together. Sometimes solo. It was a lovely din to hear.

I came to know all of the kids involved in the run up to the Christmas concert. Some sang in the choir. Others played in the orchestra. Some did both. Being involved in their lives and helping to enrich them is a vast privilege.

That teaching kids is about more than filling their heads with temporarily learned facts and then testing the buggery out of them to prove that said facts have been 'learned' has dawned upon even the most stupid of those in government. Closing schools again would probably lead to a revolution that would cause the government to fall. I look forward to having much entertainment to report in coming weeks and months.

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

Ethan was a tiny boy when he first came to the school in Y7. Now a Y8 he has shot up substantially and is destined to be one of those long and lanky kids.

For sure, he has long legs already.

He came for his piano lesson and announced, "Sorry, but I have lost my music pass." This is the pass that staff can demand of kids loose in the corridors when they should be in class, to prove that they are not heading towards the loo for a smoke.

So I took him along to the relevant office to pick up a replacement.

Or rather, followed him with grim determination as his 12 year old stride took place and my 70 year old stride and pride struggled to keep up. I just about managed to reach the relevant office with just a few seconds to spare between him and me.

I said to Miss, "This pathetic, miserable little miscreant has lost its music pass. Can he have a replacement, please?"

Miss handed one to him. I growled, "I will torture him hideously for this." "Excellent," replied Miss. Ethan smiled sweetly at both of us.

Pride brings with it problems for the pride holder. I ushered Ethan out of the room and attempted to keep up with him as he strode along the corridor. I just about managed, at huge personal cost.

We arrived back at 146 and I collapsed in the squiggly chair.

I glared at him and growled, "This is the second music pass you have lost. Lose a third and the threat of torture becomes a reality. Capiche?" We are all familiar with working out the meaning of a new word (to us) from the context in which it is used.

Ethan merely grinned and replied, "Yes Sir".

Hey ho.

[SteveHopwood]

A few more tales from yesterday. First the background. The school head teacher offered her usual round of appreciation at the end of the Christmas concert, with particular mention of staff members giving of their time because we wanted to. Head teacher got a couple of names badly wrong. One was, "Mr Reith" (Reed) and the other was, "Mr Hopkins," i.e. me.

Mr Reed was unchuffed - he has been a full time member of staff for years, after all, and was quite right to be a little indignant. He intoned grumpily as we started to pack away, "I wonder who this Mr Reith is?"

A giggling Lilly chimed in with, "I wonder who this Mr Hopkins is." Happily I am unaffected by bloops like this and so was unperturbed.

The kids ganged up on me yesterday. I pulled into 146 and called out, "Ehup folks." The reply was a gleeful chorus of, "Ehup Mr Hopkins." Still a marked lack of trembling and awe in my presence.

I had gaps at the end of my teaching and could not come home early due to teaching Gwenyth after school so I offered them to Julia, who accepted with alacrity. I asked her, during the lesson, what Lillyana liked to be called. Came the reply,"Lilly. Only ever Lilly. She hates her name and there is trouble for anyone who calls her 'Lillyana'."

Lilly and Julia are clearly besties and we all know how besties love teasing each other. I came up with an idea a few minutes later. "Hey Julia, what if I take to calling Lilly by her full name, just to wind her up?" The repy was instant and joyful. "Yes, yes, yes. Please do. Pleeeeeeeease."

Miss has adopted some of my terinology. She refers to pupils as, "Victims"; when she wants variety then she refers to them as, "Fresh meat." She refers to The Dungeon as, "The Dungeon."

She had a poster made to go on the door with, "The Dungeon," as its caption. The kids love it.

[SteveHopwood]

Jas complained about the weight of her blazer a lot last term. Now, Jas is a diminutive little thingy, apart from her ability to whinge which is massive but even so her blazer should not have been weighing her down. I investigated.

It turned out that she had nearly a term's worth of rubbish in her pockets. Mountains of old sweet wrappers; mountains of old uneaten sweets; several defunct pens; umpteen post it notes. I held her blazer; it was heavy.

"Why don't you empty your pockets from time to time?" I asked incredulously.

The explanation was: she always intended to; she would arrive home, take off said blazer and forget about the situation until rushing out of the house the following morning, when it was too late.

"So why not empty your pockets at some point during the day?" I asked. "The school is not short of waste bins."

"Too busy nattering to my friends."

Eventually I hatched a plan. Jas' timetabled lesson is on Monday so I took to making her empty the awesome waste products in her pockets into the bin in 146 every week. We did so two days ago, Monday.

Come today, Wednesday and we were doing an extra lesson. Never mind the details but there was something I wanted her to get right that occurred 8 times during her piece. I decided to play the, "How many marks do I get left with?" game. She started with 8 marks and lost one every time she failed to match expectations.

I will have described this before. It is not cruel. It is a game. There are no sanctions for failure nor rewards for success -apart from the desperate desire on the part of every child or adult I have ever taught, to gain 100%.

Jas came really close a couple of times. She clearly knew when she had got it wrong again so I came up with an idea. Thinking to myself, "How much rubbish can a kid acquire in two days?" I said, "Tell you what angel. Here is in incentive. Manage 100% this time and you can empty your pockets into my bare hands. I then have to take the contents to 146 and explain to Mr R (percussion teacher) what I am doing. Plus, when you know you have got it wrong, merely call out 'wrong' and you do not lose the mark."

A giggling Little Minx achieved the requisite 100% with ease. It turns out that the answer to the question, "How much rubbish can a kid acquire in two days?" is, a lot.

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

Last victim of the afternoon was Gwenyth, immediately following Jas. G turned up 5 minutes early. Not eager to be sent back to French, an aggrieved Jas intoned, "You are early."

"I know," replied G, "but I desperately needed to get out of English. It was sooooooooooo boring." I had my hands full of rubbish from Jas' pockets, rubbish that she was rapidly adding to the pile. G gave us a pitying, "What are you two up to?" look, so I explained. G merely gave me that look.

All this had wasted the final three minutes or so of Jas' lesson so I growled, "I am going to find the bin and explain to Mr R why I have two handfuls of rubbish. Pack up and go away."

Mr R loved the story when I told it to him.

Wednesday is Dungeon Day. I returned to The Dungeon to find Jas still there. "Why have you not gone away yet?" I demanded sternly.

"Don't want to go back to French."

I picked her up and deposited her gently outside the door. "Go away."

Jas stood her ground girlfully replying, "I shall do the Dominic walk. The long way around" Folks, we all have experience with studying subjects we hated whilst knowing we were never going to continue studying them the following year so I asked, "Which is the long way around." A trusting Jas pointed to her left. I gave her a gentle shove in that direction and said, "Go away. See you next week. Stay safe," and shut the door firmly behind me.

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

Gwenyth continues to perform wonders. This is the first time I have met someone with her particular talents so I have no idea how far she can progress. So long as she is happy doing what she does then I am happy to help her. She continues to be a joy to teach.

[SteveHopwood]

Miss has arranged the opposite of the Advanced Musicians' concert that happened last term - a Junior Musicians' concert for early in March. The pupils taking part will be in Y7-9 i.e. 11-14 years of age and not learning for long.

Julia is one of them and arrived for her lesson today.

Just to give you a bit of background, music pieces/songs usually have a structure. The most basic is Binary, where one section of the piece is followed by something contrasting; we label these sections as A and B.

Ternary is when section A is repeated i.e. A B A.

Julia pointed to the score of the piece she will play in the concert and announced, "Miss says I have to tell you that I have learned the structure of this piece. It is....."

Memory letting her down.

"It is......"

Confidence totally deserting her, so time to help out.

"It begins with a 'T', " I offered gently.

A couple of seconds doubtful thought, then her face cleared and she announced triumphantly, "Ternary. That is the structure. Ternary."

I ladled the praise on with a trowel.

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

Julia again. A few days ago after I had demonstrated how to play a passage in a piece that she was struggling with and she asked plaintively, "How do you do that so easily?"

To these kids at their stage in development, five lines of music spread over one page represents one work. A two page piece is frightening until I help them break it down. Fact is, they have no concept of, say, Romantic piano concerto by the likes of Brahms et al.

So I have taken to including in my briefcase the first page of Chopin's Fantasie Impromptu - thick black print for those of you who do not know what I am talking about. Roughly as comprehensible to the Julias' of this world as is the workings of a nuclear power plant to the rest of us (with due apologies to those of you who do understand said workings).

Julia gasped and asked, "You can play that?" "Yep." I tossed the page aside and added, "And from memory." I played her the first couple of lines.

An agog Julia insisted, "You must play that to my friends. You must, must, must."

Her 'friends' are that group of Motley Musicians that have taken to greeting me in 146 whenever I arrive. It turns out that they occupy the space for the last 10 minutes of their pathetically tiny 30 minute lunch break, and every other break time that the room is available.

I arrived today to be ambushed by J insisting that I show the rest of the group the teensy bit I had played her. They gathered around. I played, to gasps of astonishment and storms of applause. The bell went so I intoned, "Time to go folks," so they dispersed.

So, still a lack of trembling in my presence, but I do not really want that. Maybe a touch of awe today?

Temporary mind. The little sods will have forgotten by next week.

I have written this before. I shall undoubtedly write this again. Need another career? Try teaching. Any classroom teacher will confirm that it is a hard job but the good ones will also confirm this: love the kids and they will love you right back.

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

Remember Masie who stood in one of the Blood Brothers after he injured himself? I wished her luck as she stood in the wings as his emergency, one day only, understudy and thought to myself, "Good luck sweetheart. Nobody is going to blame you for the car crash that is about to happen."

And owned the stage from first stepping onto it?

Our upcoming musical is Matilda. To cut along story short, a child of unloving parents finds sanctuary with her school teacher - google the story if you want more details.

Masie has the role of Matilda and she will be fantastic. Imagine you have 1% of my enthusiasm for watching kids strut their stuff and go to this rendition of, "A Little Bit Naughty" at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OtYr7O2cPFM Go 6 minutes 28 seconds to view the performance of the amazing little dab performing the song. You might get a feel for why I so adore getting involved with this sort of stuff.

Masie is one of the Motley Group and I noticed her concentrating on learning her lines: that gave me an idea. I went to her and asked, "Would it help if we had some sessions rehearsing your major songs so that we both know what to expect from each other?"

There was no hesitation. "Yes please. Really, yes please."

The sessions are already arranged.

------------------
Teaching has its poignant side. They are rare. We teachers are dealing with young people at the start of their lives. They are mostly healthy.

Just occasionally, stuff goes wrong. Kids can be killed in accidents; I have experienced this, once. We can hear of former students who have died; I have experienced this once. I have never been called on to teach a disable student for fairly obvious reasons. Think about it if in doubt.

To be honest, Kiera came as a bit of a shock. Yes, I know that there are blind children but knowing they exist is no preparation for actually meeting one. Meeting Kiera was hard and it has affected me deeply.

Kiera was waiting in the corridor connecting 146 with 149 at the end of the day, for a musical rehearsal. There is a ledge that is perfect for a small child to sit on and she was sat on that. I knelt down in front of her and asked, "Ehup Kiera. Do you recognise my voice?"

When I think back I scream at myself, "Of course she did you bloody idiot. She is blind, not deaf or stupid."

"Yes," she replied, "Mr Hopwood."

We talked about her upcoming role in Matilda and how I would spend time helping her to know how to when to come in during her brief solo.

I said to her, "I want to take your hand darling, before I go. Is that OK?"

Kiera nodded. It was only a tiny nod but she does not know what an enthusiastic nod looks like. She was surrounded by two highly protective minders who are hopefully trained to kill. They both smiled their agreement, so I took her hand and held it for a while.

I said, "I have to go now. I will see you again soon sweetheart." Kiera nodded her head and I let go of her hand. It was one of the hardest thingies I have ever had to do. I knew I was leaving her in safe hands but when it comes down to brass tacks then it is really hard to leave a vulnerable child in the hands of others.

I told Miss about this and asked if there might be anything to do to restore Kiera's sight. Not for now and blind from birth. To make matters worse, K is one of the cheeriest kids either of us have ever met.

Teaching ain't always easy but teachers endlessly help the kids that come across our radar, however humble our roles. It is the best we can do.

[SteveHopwood]

Jas asked me, "Are you a teacher?"

"No. I am a blob of cheese."

The idiot looked confused so I continued with, "Ask a ridiculous question and you deserve a ludicrous answer."

In fact, I understand what she meant. What she meant to ask was, "Are you a proper teacher?"

Not as daft as it sounds if you look at it from a child's point of view. To the kids, a 'proper' teacher stands in front of them week after week, month after month. Who knows what someone else might be?

I explained that I am a fully qualified teacher entitled to stand in front of any classroom in the land. Also, at my age I am undoubtedly the oldest person in the school at any one given moment, and am therefore more 'proper' than anyone else in the building.

She seemed happy with the answer.

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

I open up a beginners' book so the kids can rest their sheets against it. I rest a copy of the cheat sheet on the left hand page. Julia was having trouble aligning her sheet accurately with the cheet sheet. I realised that the problem was the book being open unevenly and we solved the problem by reopening the book at the middle pages. J was happy.

I handed her a pencil a little later, so she could write something on the copy - my writing is unreadable these days so I always get the kids to do any writing for themselves. Having done so, J felt the writing end and sighed with satisfaction. "That is the perfect pencil end for me; just the right shape."

I replied, "Tell you what darling. All my pencils are identical when new as they come from the same box. I will add a new one to my briefcase, especially for you. We can wear it down to exactly how you like it - this will take a few weeks but from there, we can keep it as you like it."

OK, so ridiculous but J is very sweet and well worthwhile accommodating some whims for.

That left me with the problem of identifying said pencil as J's. I wanted to stick a label to it with, "Julia's pencil" written on it but could not find one, so I have chopped a tiny bit out of the top to identify it.

I suppose J might complain about the cut. If she does, look forward to reading the headline, "Piano teacher arrested for viciously stabbing innocent 13 year old girl with the end of a sharp pencil."

Even as I was writing the previous paragraph, the solution came to me that means: I do not have to think about it again; Julia stays out of hospital; I stay out of jail. I have replaced the injured pencil with a fresh one that I shall give to her announcing, "Here you are angel. You keep it in the condition you require and remember to bring it every lesson.

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

I saw something lovely on Thursday. The year 9 (rising 14) group of Motley Musicians have taken to spending the last 10 minutes of their pathetically short 30 minute lunch break, in 146, just before I start teaching (they must eat faster than your average domestic pooch). Miss tells me they do this every day, along with all their break times. Like me, Miss has sat through a fair few of these; like me, she loves them.

Julia and Lilly (main instrument violin) have formed a piano duet, learning stuff via YouTube over Lilly's phone. Lilly splits the melody between her two hands; J supplies the bass line just as she did in the Christmas concert.

They started on their latest song - no idea what is was, nor do I care. The point is about what happened next. Masie (soon to star in Matilda) found the song on her phone and joined in singing it. Faith joined in. Martha is becoming an accomplished guitarist and joined in strumming the chords - by 'ear' I suppose. Then Jemma joined in with a beat on the drums that are always on show in this huge room.

This was a fabulous 'jam' session presented by a group of 13 and 14 year olds. Not in a specialist school for musically gifted kids such as Chethams or the Menuhin school, but in a bog standard sec school in the middle of UK nowhere. Wow.

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

Talking of Matilda, I have learned it and can now practise it in 75 minutes - just where I need to be. I have had a first rehearsal of Masie's big songs with her. The first one gave me some pause for comical reflection. It starts with a skit of the nursery rhyme, "Jack and Jill." It goes: "Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water. Jack fell down and broke his crown and Jill came tumbling after."

Just for general interest, the song Matilda sings begins: "Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water. The subsequent fall was inevitable - it's written in the story. They should have picked a different story."

This led me to reflect that water finds its own level at its own water table and that nobody is going to find a well at the top of a hill save for a remarkable feat of civil engineering, so what the blue blazes were these two idiots doing in the first place?

[SteveHopwood]

Julia loves her pencil.

J's bestie Lilly gave her a shock on Monday. Lilly went off for her violin lesson and never came back. A panic stricken J hunted high and low for her during the lunch break, fearing all sorts of disaster including kidnap.

It is impossible for a struggling child to be taken from the school against her will but J is a 13 year old certifiable nutter, so rationality was not on the menu. Faith was helping her look and they eventually threw themselves at Miss, who calmly looked up Lilly on the system and announced that she had suddenly been taken poorly and been sent home.

"Good thingy my piano lessons do not have the same effect," I remarked.

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

Masie gave us a nasty shock. The musical is now dominating the lives of all of us involved. The performances are hoving rapidly into view on the 15th, 16th and 17th of the month. The first of the two full Sunday rehearsals is this coming Sunday.

I pitched up in 146 last Thursday, ready for more rehearsal time with Masie alongside my piano lessons. She was not there so I asked of the Motley Crew, "Is Masie in school?"

Faith replied mournfully, "No. She has broken her foot."

Happily, this turned out to be a typical child's exaggeration. Masie had indeed hurt her foot and was staying at home to avoid making the injury worse, but no broken bones. She was expected back in school on the following Monday, or two days ago as I am writing this on the following Wednesday. Fine.

Except that she wasn't fine on the Monday. She was off with tonsillitis.

Happily, antibiotics are still mostly doing their wondrous thingy and kids tend to recover quickly from (for now) minor bugs, so Maisie was back in school today and we have rehearsals booked for tomorrow.

This and how Masie first came to our attention does highlight the fragility of school productions. They do not go in for understudies and I am not entirely sure that we have a child in school with the ability to take over the role of the star of the show at two weeks' notice.

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

Something for me that has emerged from the musical. The names are brilliant: Miss Trunchbull is the evil head teacher; Miss Honey is the sweet and gentle class teacher who eventually rescues little Matilda. Miss Trunchbull demands of Miss Honey at one point, "What is the school motto?"

Miss Honey dutifully replies, "Bambinatum est Magitum". The evil Miss T translates this as, "Children are Maggots." I am going to use this.

[SteveHopwood]

Julia complained, "I feel like I am sitting a long way from the piano."

Here is the thingy. Kids start having piano lessons at a young age, then their bodies grow - and not always in proportion. As their bodies grow, so should their position at the keyboard change. This is not always easy to do.

So I looked at J and realised that she is all legs. "Darling," I exclaimed, "you are all legs. Your torso is tiny. I had not noticed before."

J described how her mum buys trousers two sizes bigger than they should be, then cuts and sows them down to size so that J is not appear drowned in them. Shirts two sizes smaller are no problem, given that J goes up a fair amount these days but outwards nowhere at all.

Bestie Lilly was back in school today, and none the worse for wear. Phew. Ok, so it is rare for a kid to get seriously sick but it does happen, so seeing her back was a relief.

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

We had a rehearsal for the band playing for Matilda this evening. I passed a group of kids waiting for a cast rehearsal in the next room, with Kiera making donkey noises as she sat in her usual place.

Now, blind or not a certifiable nutter is just that, so I passed on by without comment until she announced, "I am making donkey noises," in case nobody surrounding her did not understand what she was doing. Did she sense my passing? Her other senses must be highly attuned, so I went back to her just in case, held her hand and said, "Ehup Kiera. You make brilliant donkey noises. Best I have ever heard."

"I know," she replied." Not entirely sure how she would know that hers are the best donkey impersonations I have ever heard but if we cannot indulge children, then who can we indulge?

We parted. To be honest, I felt like a child murderer for walking past her in the first place. I promise never to knowingly do that again.

Every child deserves the chance to be a certifiable nutter even if disabled. For sure, I will always help K to be as bonkers as she wants.

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

To the band rehearsal.

Remember how Lois viciously assaulted, "Fur Elise" at every opportunity two years ago? Read back if unfamiliar with this; the time span is big but the amounts of posts not due to covid. Two years on and her character has developed magnificently. She looks as though butter would not melt in her mouth.

She has an evil sense of humour.

Lois was cleaning the fretboard of her violin. This was creating a screeching sound that was clearly upsetting all of those around her. This glorious child said, "Sorry," and rubbed more quietly.

We all know that I have an evil streak so I said, "Go on sweetheart. Rub even faster and see who breaks first."

L flashed me a wicked grin and rubbed harder. Miss broke first and surrender was total. I am unworried by these sounds and so showed no sympathy whatsoever. Surrender by the rest of the group followed quickly.

--

Again, read back to the Mini Eggs a couple of years ago. Tastes change of course, so I wanted to make sure. We are coming up to our first full Sunday rehearsal so I asked, "Is there anybody here who hates MIni Eggs?"

To be greeted by looks of incredulity.

Billie asked, "Who could be so insane?"

We all agreed about the impossibility of such insanity.

Then Jeremy-whose-real-name-is-Henry reminded us about the packet opening incident when he spilled all of the Mini Eggs over the floor yet they got eaten anyhow. Perhaps best to gloss over our best attempts to poison our students?

Many Mini Eggs will arrive with me on Sunday.

----

Much entertainment to come folks.

[SteveHopwood]

Little Dab Joey is slowly turning into a slightly taller Little Dab. Usual stuff - starting to go upwards a half way decent amount but outwards nowhere at all.

Joey always beams at me whenever we meet. Never mind the details but I found myself accompanying her singing lesson. Stuff like this is always a joy. We parted with much mutual affection.

Now, I may have the memory of a sozzled 70 year old but Joey has the acute memory of a 13 year old. Kids are not idiots. They instantly recognise the teachers who hate and who love them, and all points in between.

Maybe Joey remembers the details of our first meeting; maybe not. What she does know is that I adore her viewtopic.php?p=172270#p172270. Go back to that post for details.

Incidentally, I have never again been forced to recognise the, "I was late" label attached to a child. Damn good thingy, too.