Musical!
After working all night, and dozing off at 4 am, this tremendous dream:
My good friend Elaine presented me and my little Eli to a music maestro she knew, a little bird of a man done up in a white suit like he fancied himself Tom Wolfe , or even Truman Capote. Elaine proposed that he consider taking my Eli on as a student even though she did not meet the usual requirement and did not have the proper pedigree. The little maestro showed no interest.
I began to bristle and said, "Why don't you at least hear what Elaine is suggesting before you dismiss it out of hand?"
"Elaine," he said, "Elaine, Elaine. Why is it always what Elaine wants and not what the student wants?"
These were words of sense. Teachers often deal with parents' agendas running roughshod over children's actual inclinations. But then he said something abstract and high falutin, like, "The bird that knows its song drinks deepest of the well," only more annoying.
I said, "That may be true, what you just said. That's the sort of thing I'd have to see on paper to know what I thought. It may be that you've said something profound with which I agree. You may have said something astonishing. Or, you may have uttered the kind of frou frou bullshit that people like you use to keep people like me away. Elaine brought us here out of the goodness of her heart, and if you cannot take the time to consider a child who wishes to learn, then you don't deserve to have anyone call you teacher.
"You have our number, should you wish to contact us," I went on, drawing myself to my fullest height and preparing to leave. I took my cane and pointed its rubber tip fiercely at Eli. "That child is musical."
My good friend Elaine presented me and my little Eli to a music maestro she knew, a little bird of a man done up in a white suit like he fancied himself Tom Wolfe , or even Truman Capote. Elaine proposed that he consider taking my Eli on as a student even though she did not meet the usual requirement and did not have the proper pedigree. The little maestro showed no interest.
I began to bristle and said, "Why don't you at least hear what Elaine is suggesting before you dismiss it out of hand?"
"Elaine," he said, "Elaine, Elaine. Why is it always what Elaine wants and not what the student wants?"
These were words of sense. Teachers often deal with parents' agendas running roughshod over children's actual inclinations. But then he said something abstract and high falutin, like, "The bird that knows its song drinks deepest of the well," only more annoying.
I said, "That may be true, what you just said. That's the sort of thing I'd have to see on paper to know what I thought. It may be that you've said something profound with which I agree. You may have said something astonishing. Or, you may have uttered the kind of frou frou bullshit that people like you use to keep people like me away. Elaine brought us here out of the goodness of her heart, and if you cannot take the time to consider a child who wishes to learn, then you don't deserve to have anyone call you teacher.
"You have our number, should you wish to contact us," I went on, drawing myself to my fullest height and preparing to leave. I took my cane and pointed its rubber tip fiercely at Eli. "That child is musical."