book arranging and music theory
I was up a while last night thinking about memories. I keep remembering stuff I had almost forgotten, and re-remembering things I'd already remembered (They tend to bubble up right before I feel like falling asleep and then I want to think about them, which is terribly inconvenient for sleeping). Like last night I re-remembered how I had this ridiculous book arranging war with some other student when I was in the 8th grade. I signed up to be a student aide for Ms. Colton, the reading teacher. My sister had previously been her aide, and had graded quizzes for her and such. However when I was her aide later, there was basically nothing to do. The class had entered in on an independent reading unit which meant total quiet time, and no quizzes to grade or anything.
There were these two wheeled bookshelves in the classroom, filled with kids books that anyone could borrow. So one day while I was bored I rearranged all the books (in a way that I thought made sense). I put all the books that were similar in genre or reading level together, at the same time separating the books by paperback / hardback, height and series. I got mostly done through one cart and was starting on the second, when one day I came in and found almost all the books had been rearranged, alphabetically.
So what could I do? I rearranged all of them all over again. They stayed that way for a few days, then someone started alphabetizing them again. I put them back, rather indignant. They moved them again, I put them back again. I went to Ms. Colton to complain that someone was ruining my book order. She pointed out that students were always going over to look at the book cart, so there was no way at knowing who it was. All in all it probably went on for at least two weeks.
I have to admit alphabetical order makes a certain amount of sense, even if I thought my organization scheme was better for finding new books to read. And they probably felt just as strongly about it as I did. In the end they gave up because I was an aide. I could spend ALL of class time rearranging those books. While on the other hand they were a student who was supposed to be spending most of class time reading. If I could have been considered to have triumphed, then I had triumphed purely by default.
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I also took a intro music theory class in high school, my senior year. Mainly I remember how towards the end of the semester the class had a bit of a routine regarding a certain chord the teacher would play on the piano. I don't remember the name, really, either the chord or the teacher.
It would go something like this. Inevitably, near the end of class, the short kid (whose growth spurt had yet to make an appearance) with his young boyish haircut would ask the choral teacher to play The Chord. And he'd look back and grin good-naturedly and ask the class loudly, 'Should I play it?' And a few hecklers would say 'Yes!' or 'NO' and the rest of the class would sit back waiting, as if they were all too cool to care, or wouldn't deign to answer. Like 'Oh no, not this again'. But of course they cared too, otherwise they wouldn't have been waiting.
And once a few people had clamored enough, he'd make a show of turning to the piano and placing his hands on the keyboard. (I always thought he deserved some sort of award for showmanship). Then he'd lightly play a shimmering scale up and down the keyboard, quickly, his fingers not so much touching the keys as much as gliding over them. Next he'd go into a simple, upwards chord progression, one of the standard ones that grows a little into dissonance ---. And then resolves into a harmony without too much fuss. Then he'd pause for a moment to let in some silence. By this time the class would have become totally quiet.
Next he'd launch into a different upwards chord progression, similar to the first (but subtly different, in some way I never quite grasped). Only instead of resolving simply, it would become more and more dissonant. In addition, he would start playing each note heavier than the last, building up the effect. Until finally, at the end, when it seemed like it was about to resolve itself into a normal harmony (having set up the audience to expect an ending like the first). He'd pause again, like the pause of a breath about to be let go. And then one final chord would be unleashed, a tiny piece of reverberating thunder. A perfect half-resolved, half-dissonant chord that would sort of ripple into the air. Out into the silence where everyone was caught in the echo of the sound.
It was a beautiful chord. I was always struck how just sort of matter-of-factly existing it was. Like it was existing, defiant, in a sort of different space than itself.
And inevitably, the short, shrimpy kid standing near the piano would let out an exaggerated, louder than life groooaan, like he had just eaten the best piece of pie in the world, a born comedian. And half the class would laugh. And the spell would be broken, just like that.
And then the bell would ring, and I'd go off to my next class. Leaving the refuge of the chorus room, with the chord still ringing in my ears.
There were these two wheeled bookshelves in the classroom, filled with kids books that anyone could borrow. So one day while I was bored I rearranged all the books (in a way that I thought made sense). I put all the books that were similar in genre or reading level together, at the same time separating the books by paperback / hardback, height and series. I got mostly done through one cart and was starting on the second, when one day I came in and found almost all the books had been rearranged, alphabetically.
So what could I do? I rearranged all of them all over again. They stayed that way for a few days, then someone started alphabetizing them again. I put them back, rather indignant. They moved them again, I put them back again. I went to Ms. Colton to complain that someone was ruining my book order. She pointed out that students were always going over to look at the book cart, so there was no way at knowing who it was. All in all it probably went on for at least two weeks.
I have to admit alphabetical order makes a certain amount of sense, even if I thought my organization scheme was better for finding new books to read. And they probably felt just as strongly about it as I did. In the end they gave up because I was an aide. I could spend ALL of class time rearranging those books. While on the other hand they were a student who was supposed to be spending most of class time reading. If I could have been considered to have triumphed, then I had triumphed purely by default.
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I also took a intro music theory class in high school, my senior year. Mainly I remember how towards the end of the semester the class had a bit of a routine regarding a certain chord the teacher would play on the piano. I don't remember the name, really, either the chord or the teacher.
It would go something like this. Inevitably, near the end of class, the short kid (whose growth spurt had yet to make an appearance) with his young boyish haircut would ask the choral teacher to play The Chord. And he'd look back and grin good-naturedly and ask the class loudly, 'Should I play it?' And a few hecklers would say 'Yes!' or 'NO' and the rest of the class would sit back waiting, as if they were all too cool to care, or wouldn't deign to answer. Like 'Oh no, not this again'. But of course they cared too, otherwise they wouldn't have been waiting.
And once a few people had clamored enough, he'd make a show of turning to the piano and placing his hands on the keyboard. (I always thought he deserved some sort of award for showmanship). Then he'd lightly play a shimmering scale up and down the keyboard, quickly, his fingers not so much touching the keys as much as gliding over them. Next he'd go into a simple, upwards chord progression, one of the standard ones that grows a little into dissonance ---. And then resolves into a harmony without too much fuss. Then he'd pause for a moment to let in some silence. By this time the class would have become totally quiet.
Next he'd launch into a different upwards chord progression, similar to the first (but subtly different, in some way I never quite grasped). Only instead of resolving simply, it would become more and more dissonant. In addition, he would start playing each note heavier than the last, building up the effect. Until finally, at the end, when it seemed like it was about to resolve itself into a normal harmony (having set up the audience to expect an ending like the first). He'd pause again, like the pause of a breath about to be let go. And then one final chord would be unleashed, a tiny piece of reverberating thunder. A perfect half-resolved, half-dissonant chord that would sort of ripple into the air. Out into the silence where everyone was caught in the echo of the sound.
It was a beautiful chord. I was always struck how just sort of matter-of-factly existing it was. Like it was existing, defiant, in a sort of different space than itself.
And inevitably, the short, shrimpy kid standing near the piano would let out an exaggerated, louder than life groooaan, like he had just eaten the best piece of pie in the world, a born comedian. And half the class would laugh. And the spell would be broken, just like that.
And then the bell would ring, and I'd go off to my next class. Leaving the refuge of the chorus room, with the chord still ringing in my ears.