The Non-History of My Un-Musical Career (or, Much Ado About Nothing), Part 1
I remember it well, as I believe it scarred me for life.
It all started in the fourth grade. In the Fall of that year, as was traditional, all students were issued flutaphone/recorder thingies. We would work with them in Music and were supposed to practice little ditties at home. I remember having an especially hard time with that bugger, as my right-hand coordination was sorely lacking at the time (due to my superior left-handedness). So I didn't pass whatever muster there was. So that meant I was not allowed to start with a string intrument. If I wanted to I would presumably have been allowed to start with something brass or woodwind-y in fifth grade, like everyone else. But I felt I had been wronged by Mrs Luck (her real name), who also didn't appreciate my habit of singing alternate lyrics to songs at the top of my lungs. Tensions rose and by sixth grade it was open warfare. And it all centered around the guitar. That was the instrument of the year. We were supposed to strum little folk songs for a recital for the school and parents. I knew that guitars could be made left-handed (Paul had one!) and asked if she could please fix it for me. She refused and told me to play it like everyone else. Well, I tried to play it upside-down, but that didn't work too well for me. Most of the time in class I just sat through the rehearsals doing nothing and getting pedagogical dirty looks. When it came time for the school recital I sat in the front row with my friend Paul Albrecht and when the playing was supposed to start I flipped my guitar the other way and sat there. Mrs Luck gestured frustration at me, but I just put my hands up to say that there was something wrong. I think I was secretly hoping the principal or a parent would insist we all stop so that my needs could be addressed and I would have my chance to publicly expose Mrs Luck for the heartless ogre I knew she was (at least to me). Alas, no such chance came, and I looked like a fool. For the shame she foisted upon me I made Music class a miserable experience for her. Of course, what happened was that I got kicked out of Music for the rest of the year. I heard she retired a few years after I left Fernbrook Elementary School.
I remember it well, as I believe it scarred me for life.
It all started in the fourth grade. In the Fall of that year, as was traditional, all students were issued flutaphone/recorder thingies. We would work with them in Music and were supposed to practice little ditties at home. I remember having an especially hard time with that bugger, as my right-hand coordination was sorely lacking at the time (due to my superior left-handedness). So I didn't pass whatever muster there was. So that meant I was not allowed to start with a string intrument. If I wanted to I would presumably have been allowed to start with something brass or woodwind-y in fifth grade, like everyone else. But I felt I had been wronged by Mrs Luck (her real name), who also didn't appreciate my habit of singing alternate lyrics to songs at the top of my lungs. Tensions rose and by sixth grade it was open warfare. And it all centered around the guitar. That was the instrument of the year. We were supposed to strum little folk songs for a recital for the school and parents. I knew that guitars could be made left-handed (Paul had one!) and asked if she could please fix it for me. She refused and told me to play it like everyone else. Well, I tried to play it upside-down, but that didn't work too well for me. Most of the time in class I just sat through the rehearsals doing nothing and getting pedagogical dirty looks. When it came time for the school recital I sat in the front row with my friend Paul Albrecht and when the playing was supposed to start I flipped my guitar the other way and sat there. Mrs Luck gestured frustration at me, but I just put my hands up to say that there was something wrong. I think I was secretly hoping the principal or a parent would insist we all stop so that my needs could be addressed and I would have my chance to publicly expose Mrs Luck for the heartless ogre I knew she was (at least to me). Alas, no such chance came, and I looked like a fool. For the shame she foisted upon me I made Music class a miserable experience for her. Of course, what happened was that I got kicked out of Music for the rest of the year. I heard she retired a few years after I left Fernbrook Elementary School.
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