Elementary Music Education

Today was the day I shadowed my first Elementray Music Education program! EME is a really popular educational program put on by my workplace, intended to fit in with these kids' sound unit in science. So today, two troupes of eight-year-olds flooded the gallery and 'discovery room' to learn about sound waves, instrument families, and other musical concepts, using ridiculously fun demonstrations and lots of hands-on activities. It was just a terrific program.
I am shadowing so that I can lead these programs on my own soon. And that's more than a tiny bit scary. Sure, I've taught piano one-on-one, but I've never had to manage a group of 25 squirmy, chattery grade three kids before, and I haven't even been around younger children in a lot of years. It not only takes musical knowledge and teaching ability, but crowd-control skills, and the ability to communicate on these kids' level, in a way that keeps their attention focused (NO SMALL FEAT). So at first, I was kind of unnerved and tongue-tied by them all as they streamed in, eyes as big as saucers, whispering loudly. And I'm still not sure how I'd manage if I were the one keeping their overactive hands and mouths at bay, but my goodness - they say the funniest things!

"What did you see when you came in today?" asked Interpreter A, whom I was shadowing. (We had taken them through a small section of the gallery, past dozens of incredible instruments.)
One boy stared up at her, chewed his lip for a moment, and then answered bravely, "Um...Stairs."

Perhaps the best one was from a boy who was answering another question from Interpreter A, who had just explained that if they looked at the first page of their handout, they'd find a glossary there. "Does anyone know what a glossary is?"
His answer was given completely seriously. "It...helps us to communicate with aliens."

These kids were also never afraid to get very up close and personal. They would rest their arms or heads on Interpreter A while she crouched down to demonstrate something, and the whole bunch of them always tried to pressing so ridiculously close that they were all practically on top of one another. They shrieked with excitement when they saw what a tuning fork does, and even more so when we touched the tip into a bowl of water to show them what the sound waves would do. And boy, did they ever throw themselves 100% into the hands-on stations! A bit too much sometimes, in fact. I'm not really sure how one person usually manages these things on their own. At one point, there were seven of them trying a harpsichord, seven trying a dulcimer, and seven goofing off with a sampler. I stayed at the harpsichord, telling them over and over and OVER not to touch the harpsichord strings, while the whole class rotated through the station.
"Okay, we need to keep our hands off of the strings, please."
"Oh - just play on the keyboard, alright? It's not good for the harpsichord to put our hands on the strings. Thanks."
"Hey, can you girls back there keep your hands off of the strings??"
"Ah! No, no, don't do that to the harpsichord, Joe!"
"Guys!! Do not touch those!"
"OKAY: EVERYBODY in line needs to take one big step away from the harpsichord!"
"LOOK PEOPLE - DON'T TOUCH THE HARPSICHORD!!!!"
Okay, no, it didn't actually get to the last one, but so help me... And if I'd been needing to monitor the dulcimer and the sampler, too? Gosh!

During one explanation using a cross-section of a harpsichord, Interpreter A removed part of the sound-producing mechanism (a long shaft called a "jack" with a tiny "plectrum" at the end, which plucks the string) for them to see.
"This is a jack," she explained.
Almost immediately, several scattered voices from the group of children piped up. "Hi Jack." "Hiiii, Jaaaack." HI JACK!" "Hi! Hi!"
Well, now that "Jack," to our amusement, was personified, she carried the idea a little further for their sakes.
"This is Jack's nose (the plectrum), and his nose is going to pluck this string right up here, see?" She showed the plectrum, replaced the mechanism, and depressed the key a few times to show them the plucking action.
And this time, several scattered but sincere outbursts of "Good job, Jack!" and "Way to go, Jack!" were offered by the kids.
It was too funny, just because they were so serious about praising that little piece of mechanism that they'd just named, so I couldn't help but laugh, and even Interpreter A had to stop for a for a moment to say, "You guys just crack me up!"

There were many other memorable moments from this morning. It really was something. If I had to be completely honest, I'd say I'd really prefer to lead general tours, where I can relate with mostly adults, on a more intellectual level, share the gritty historical details wtih them, and not have to ask for their attention every 45 seconds. I'd feel more comfortable with that. But. Even though I'm being trained for both things right now, they want me starting EME first. So, onward I go, trial by fire, keeping the fact that I don't have the greatest large-group-of-children skills ever under wraps for now. I think it'll come with time and experience, as I learn how to translate my adult-music-major thoughts into ADDish 8-year-old words. What experiences these all are!

Poetry that did not reach its intended audience.

Every couple of days, I have to write up our company's AFE administrator and request that a recently-closed AFE be reopened, so that I can enter an invoice into it, if the invoice date is older than the AFE's termination date.

I get really bored with the repetitive emails, so I have asked in a variety of fashions, from mildly apologetic, to overly enthusiastic, to slightly ironic. Each and every time, I get an identical response: "Hi, this is now opened." The time before last, I thought to myself as I searched for new words to make a routine email less monotonous, "Next time, I should just write a poem."

So this time, I did, in limerick form:

From: Me
Sent: Wednesday, September 10, 2008 1:29 PM
Subject: An AFE...

I have this invoice to key,
But alas, the poor AFE
Has been terminated,
But the invoice is dated
July, so please open it for me?

AFE# 200631065

It took only a couple of minutes to compose, and I sent it off, feeling rather pleased, and hopeful that the uniqueness would add some fun to the administrator's day, and perhaps invite a more interesting response.

My hopefulness was completely wasted. This was the administator's reply:

Sent: Wednesday, September 10, 2008 1:42 PM
To: Me
Subject: RE: An AFE...

Hi, this is now opened.


Did they not even notice it was a limerick? Or did they not even care? Who knows. Either way, having your creative efforts unnoticed is always a little deflating, even if it is just a limerick.