Everybody wants to feel important.
Speaking as a parental unit, we get to feel important a lot. We get hugs when kids are tired or scared. We get snuggles. Unless you're me and your child has a ridiculous song and dance about germs, we also get kisses. Parents generally get lots and lots of love and appreciation, especially when candy, french fries, money or stickers are involved.
But the time too-quickly comes when we are unceremoniously dumped on our self-important behinds. For those of you who aren't there yet, I'm here to tell you, there is no early warning device and no color coded system to alert you to the fact that you are no longer the sun in your child's planetary system. It just happens. Boom.
Last Thursday, we all got up at the crack of Wednesday night to get TinyTuna and all her accoutrements to the bus which was to leave for Detroit (with or without her) at 6am sharp. She was a bit bleary-eyed, having spent the evening prior at the theatre watching Little Shop of Horrors, but she made it with plenty of time to spare.
I didn't know what to expect from this child of mine, who really hasn't spent any time away from home and who has never ridden on an airplane. I worried on her behalf -- to the extent that is allowed in the parental handbook -- and hoped there would be no meltdowns as she prepared to leave.
As the group was making its final preparations, GramTuna and I were chatting with another adult. Suddenly we realized that TinyTuna had taken off with a stream of kids towards the bus. No goodbyes, no tearful farewells, not even a "I'll miss you" thrown my way out of pity. Nothing.
We meandered towards the bus and THEN TinyTuna came lunging at me with the hug of death. Phew!! We gave lots of hugs, and told her to have fun, gave her a stern look and told her to BEHAVE (also a requirement in the parental handbook), and then I whispered in her ear, "I saw some other kids with friends," (meaning stuffed animals), "so it's probably ok if Fluffy comes out of your backpack."
She said ok, smiled and ran off.
As I watched her get on the bus and sit down, the reason for her earlier disappearing act instantly became clear. THIS was why she took off so quickly. THIS was why she didn't say goodbye first. THIS was why she didn't whimper or cry. THIS was why she snubbed my all-consuming parental need to feel important.
She was sitting on the first seat of the bus.
Directly across from the conductor.
I lost to a BUS SEAT.
It was a sign.
After pulling ourselves together at home, GramTuna and I set off to drive to points unknown in Pennsylvania. As we drove and chatted, I periodically glanced at my watch to send some good karma around 11am: TinyTuna's scheduled takeoff. I would interrupt my normally inane conversation that is liberally sprinkled with nonsensical comments on the price of gas at every sign I see ("Hey, $2.20...not bad) with normal parental announcements and concerns on TinyTuna's behalf.
"It's almost time for takeoff."
"They are up in the air now."
"I wonder how her flight is going?"
"I hope there isn't much turbulance."
"They should have landed by now."
"I wonder when she'll be able to give us a call?"
Our plan had been that once they arrived in New York and got themselves situated in their hotel, she would give me a call with all their phone numbers so I could call after that. We didn't hear anything for a long time. Nothing to awaken us from our coma induced by the lovely state of Ohio. No cellphone chirp to brighten our spirits from the militant state of Pennsylvania, who spent the entire time yelling at us:
NO TAILGATING
KEEP A SAFE DISTANCE
BUCKLE UP -- EVERY SINGLE TIME!!
This of course, got hysterical after awhile, as I took to growling EVERY SINGLE TIME at the end of every sentence (I humor easily).
Finally, FINALLY my child calls late in the afternoon. My child, who has never flown on a plane, and never really been away from home. My child, who was on an adventure of a lifetime chock-full of firsts, whom I WORRIED ABOUT the entire day, offered up this conversation:
GreenTuna: HEY SWEETIE!!! HOW WAS YOUR TRIP?
TinyTuna: fine
GreenTuna HOW WAS YOUR FLIGHT??
TinyTuna: fine
GreenTuna DID YOU LIKE THE PLANE RIDE??
TinyTuna: yeah
GreenTuna WAS IT SMOOTH OR BUMPY???
TinyTuna: smooth
GreenTuna DID YOU HAVE A WINDOW SEAT???
TinyTuna: yep
Now I'm worried. I'm offering up softball after softball question so she was tell me about her trip, and I'm getting one word answers. Is she sick? Is she scared? Is something wrong? Do I have to find her and save her?
And then it all became clear, as she spouted in a voice of sheer exasperation dripping with a 'Woman, will you please just leave me alone!!! sort of tone:
MOM, I HAVE TO GO BECAUSE WE ARE GOING SHOPPING IN TIMES SQAURE RIGHT NOW!!!
...
...
...
Ahem.
Somewhere, my self importance is licking its wounds. In the course of twelve hours I moved several notches down the parental food chain -- lower than a bus seat, and lower than T-shirt and trinket shopping. And somewhere along the way, TinyTuna grew up a whole lot, and handled herself like a pro. All in all this was a good thing.
No tears.
No meltdowns.
I only sniffled once or twice.
Thursday, April 07, 2005
Bottom Feeder
Everybody wants to feel important.
Speaking as a parental unit, we get to feel important a lot. We get hugs when kids are tired or scared. We get snuggles. Unless you're me and your child has a ridiculous song and dance about germs, we also get kisses. Parents generally get lots and lots of love and appreciation, especially when candy, french fries, money or stickers are involved.
But the time too-quickly comes when we are unceremoniously dumped on our self-important behinds. For those of you who aren't there yet, I'm here to tell you, there is no early warning device and no color coded system to alert you to the fact that you are no longer the sun in your child's planetary system. It just happens. Boom.
Last Thursday, we all got up at the crack of Wednesday night to get TinyTuna and all her accoutrements to the bus which was to leave for Detroit (with or without her) at 6am sharp. She was a bit bleary-eyed, having spent the evening prior at the theatre watching Little Shop of Horrors, but she made it with plenty of time to spare.
I didn't know what to expect from this child of mine, who really hasn't spent any time away from home and who has never ridden on an airplane. I worried on her behalf -- to the extent that is allowed in the parental handbook -- and hoped there would be no meltdowns as she prepared to leave.
As the group was making its final preparations, GramTuna and I were chatting with another adult. Suddenly we realized that TinyTuna had taken off with a stream of kids towards the bus. No goodbyes, no tearful farewells, not even a "I'll miss you" thrown my way out of pity. Nothing.
We meandered towards the bus and THEN TinyTuna came lunging at me with the hug of death. Phew!! We gave lots of hugs, and told her to have fun, gave her a stern look and told her to BEHAVE (also a requirement in the parental handbook), and then I whispered in her ear, "I saw some other kids with friends," (meaning stuffed animals), "so it's probably ok if Fluffy comes out of your backpack."
She said ok, smiled and ran off.
As I watched her get on the bus and sit down, the reason for her earlier disappearing act instantly became clear. THIS was why she took off so quickly. THIS was why she didn't say goodbye first. THIS was why she didn't whimper or cry. THIS was why she snubbed my all-consuming parental need to feel important.
She was sitting on the first seat of the bus.
Directly across from the conductor.
I lost to a BUS SEAT.
It was a sign.
After pulling ourselves together at home, GramTuna and I set off to drive to points unknown in Pennsylvania. As we drove and chatted, I periodically glanced at my watch to send some good karma around 11am: TinyTuna's scheduled takeoff. I would interrupt my normally inane conversation that is liberally sprinkled with nonsensical comments on the price of gas at every sign I see ("Hey, $2.20...not bad) with normal parental announcements and concerns on TinyTuna's behalf.
"It's almost time for takeoff."
"They are up in the air now."
"I wonder how her flight is going?"
"I hope there isn't much turbulance."
"They should have landed by now."
"I wonder when she'll be able to give us a call?"
Our plan had been that once they arrived in New York and got themselves situated in their hotel, she would give me a call with all their phone numbers so I could call after that. We didn't hear anything for a long time. Nothing to awaken us from our coma induced by the lovely state of Ohio. No cellphone chirp to brighten our spirits from the militant state of Pennsylvania, who spent the entire time yelling at us:
NO TAILGATING
KEEP A SAFE DISTANCE
BUCKLE UP -- EVERY SINGLE TIME!!
This of course, got hysterical after awhile, as I took to growling EVERY SINGLE TIME at the end of every sentence (I humor easily).
Finally, FINALLY my child calls late in the afternoon. My child, who has never flown on a plane, and never really been away from home. My child, who was on an adventure of a lifetime chock-full of firsts, whom I WORRIED ABOUT the entire day, offered up this conversation:
GreenTuna: HEY SWEETIE!!! HOW WAS YOUR TRIP?
TinyTuna: fine
GreenTuna HOW WAS YOUR FLIGHT??
TinyTuna: fine
GreenTuna DID YOU LIKE THE PLANE RIDE??
TinyTuna: yeah
GreenTuna WAS IT SMOOTH OR BUMPY???
TinyTuna: smooth
GreenTuna DID YOU HAVE A WINDOW SEAT???
TinyTuna: yep
Now I'm worried. I'm offering up softball after softball question so she was tell me about her trip, and I'm getting one word answers. Is she sick? Is she scared? Is something wrong? Do I have to find her and save her?
And then it all became clear, as she spouted in a voice of sheer exasperation dripping with a 'Woman, will you please just leave me alone!!! sort of tone:
MOM, I HAVE TO GO BECAUSE WE ARE GOING SHOPPING IN TIMES SQAURE RIGHT NOW!!!
...
...
...
Ahem.
Somewhere, my self importance is licking its wounds. In the course of twelve hours I moved several notches down the parental food chain -- lower than a bus seat, and lower than T-shirt and trinket shopping. And somewhere along the way, TinyTuna grew up a whole lot, and handled herself like a pro. All in all this was a good thing.
No tears.
No meltdowns.
I only sniffled once or twice.
Speaking as a parental unit, we get to feel important a lot. We get hugs when kids are tired or scared. We get snuggles. Unless you're me and your child has a ridiculous song and dance about germs, we also get kisses. Parents generally get lots and lots of love and appreciation, especially when candy, french fries, money or stickers are involved.
But the time too-quickly comes when we are unceremoniously dumped on our self-important behinds. For those of you who aren't there yet, I'm here to tell you, there is no early warning device and no color coded system to alert you to the fact that you are no longer the sun in your child's planetary system. It just happens. Boom.
Last Thursday, we all got up at the crack of Wednesday night to get TinyTuna and all her accoutrements to the bus which was to leave for Detroit (with or without her) at 6am sharp. She was a bit bleary-eyed, having spent the evening prior at the theatre watching Little Shop of Horrors, but she made it with plenty of time to spare.
I didn't know what to expect from this child of mine, who really hasn't spent any time away from home and who has never ridden on an airplane. I worried on her behalf -- to the extent that is allowed in the parental handbook -- and hoped there would be no meltdowns as she prepared to leave.
As the group was making its final preparations, GramTuna and I were chatting with another adult. Suddenly we realized that TinyTuna had taken off with a stream of kids towards the bus. No goodbyes, no tearful farewells, not even a "I'll miss you" thrown my way out of pity. Nothing.
We meandered towards the bus and THEN TinyTuna came lunging at me with the hug of death. Phew!! We gave lots of hugs, and told her to have fun, gave her a stern look and told her to BEHAVE (also a requirement in the parental handbook), and then I whispered in her ear, "I saw some other kids with friends," (meaning stuffed animals), "so it's probably ok if Fluffy comes out of your backpack."
She said ok, smiled and ran off.
As I watched her get on the bus and sit down, the reason for her earlier disappearing act instantly became clear. THIS was why she took off so quickly. THIS was why she didn't say goodbye first. THIS was why she didn't whimper or cry. THIS was why she snubbed my all-consuming parental need to feel important.
She was sitting on the first seat of the bus.
Directly across from the conductor.
I lost to a BUS SEAT.
It was a sign.
After pulling ourselves together at home, GramTuna and I set off to drive to points unknown in Pennsylvania. As we drove and chatted, I periodically glanced at my watch to send some good karma around 11am: TinyTuna's scheduled takeoff. I would interrupt my normally inane conversation that is liberally sprinkled with nonsensical comments on the price of gas at every sign I see ("Hey, $2.20...not bad) with normal parental announcements and concerns on TinyTuna's behalf.
"It's almost time for takeoff."
"They are up in the air now."
"I wonder how her flight is going?"
"I hope there isn't much turbulance."
"They should have landed by now."
"I wonder when she'll be able to give us a call?"
Our plan had been that once they arrived in New York and got themselves situated in their hotel, she would give me a call with all their phone numbers so I could call after that. We didn't hear anything for a long time. Nothing to awaken us from our coma induced by the lovely state of Ohio. No cellphone chirp to brighten our spirits from the militant state of Pennsylvania, who spent the entire time yelling at us:
NO TAILGATING
KEEP A SAFE DISTANCE
BUCKLE UP -- EVERY SINGLE TIME!!
This of course, got hysterical after awhile, as I took to growling EVERY SINGLE TIME at the end of every sentence (I humor easily).
Finally, FINALLY my child calls late in the afternoon. My child, who has never flown on a plane, and never really been away from home. My child, who was on an adventure of a lifetime chock-full of firsts, whom I WORRIED ABOUT the entire day, offered up this conversation:
GreenTuna: HEY SWEETIE!!! HOW WAS YOUR TRIP?
TinyTuna: fine
GreenTuna HOW WAS YOUR FLIGHT??
TinyTuna: fine
GreenTuna DID YOU LIKE THE PLANE RIDE??
TinyTuna: yeah
GreenTuna WAS IT SMOOTH OR BUMPY???
TinyTuna: smooth
GreenTuna DID YOU HAVE A WINDOW SEAT???
TinyTuna: yep
Now I'm worried. I'm offering up softball after softball question so she was tell me about her trip, and I'm getting one word answers. Is she sick? Is she scared? Is something wrong? Do I have to find her and save her?
And then it all became clear, as she spouted in a voice of sheer exasperation dripping with a 'Woman, will you please just leave me alone!!! sort of tone:
MOM, I HAVE TO GO BECAUSE WE ARE GOING SHOPPING IN TIMES SQAURE RIGHT NOW!!!
...
...
...
Ahem.
Somewhere, my self importance is licking its wounds. In the course of twelve hours I moved several notches down the parental food chain -- lower than a bus seat, and lower than T-shirt and trinket shopping. And somewhere along the way, TinyTuna grew up a whole lot, and handled herself like a pro. All in all this was a good thing.
No tears.
No meltdowns.
I only sniffled once or twice.
Is This Thing Still On?
I'm back with more than a few tales to tell.
But it has to wait until tomorrow.
Which is now today.
Doh.
But it has to wait until tomorrow.
Which is now today.
Doh.
Is This Thing Still On?
I'm back with more than a few tales to tell.
But it has to wait until tomorrow.
Which is now today.
Doh.
But it has to wait until tomorrow.
Which is now today.
Doh.
Thursday, March 31, 2005
Presto Presto
1. Little Shop of Horrors Surprise -- Awesome.
Wide-eyed stare, "Who are THESE FOR?"
.... moment pause .... "WHAT DAY IS TODAY??"
It was great.
2. Little Shop of Horrors Show -- Very good.
She loved it.
3. Awake at 4:30 am?
Check
4. Tearful goodbye at bus = "Seeya mom" as she runs for the bus.
Ahem
5. Survivor Fantasy Team picked?
Check. Though I hate having to commit this early. I'm the Queen of Tweaking.
It's time to pack and dash. I'll be thinking of all of you as I drive the coma-inducing Ohio, the police-filled Pennsylvania and wherever else the car takes us today. No doubt I'll be checking in from the Big Apple.
Wide-eyed stare, "Who are THESE FOR?"
.... moment pause .... "WHAT DAY IS TODAY??"
It was great.
2. Little Shop of Horrors Show -- Very good.
She loved it.
3. Awake at 4:30 am?
Check
4. Tearful goodbye at bus = "Seeya mom" as she runs for the bus.
Ahem
5. Survivor Fantasy Team picked?
Check. Though I hate having to commit this early. I'm the Queen of Tweaking.
It's time to pack and dash. I'll be thinking of all of you as I drive the coma-inducing Ohio, the police-filled Pennsylvania and wherever else the car takes us today. No doubt I'll be checking in from the Big Apple.
Presto Presto
1. Little Shop of Horrors Surprise -- Awesome.
Wide-eyed stare, "Who are THESE FOR?"
.... moment pause .... "WHAT DAY IS TODAY??"
It was great.
2. Little Shop of Horrors Show -- Very good.
She loved it.
3. Awake at 4:30 am?
Check
4. Tearful goodbye at bus = "Seeya mom" as she runs for the bus.
Ahem
5. Survivor Fantasy Team picked?
Check. Though I hate having to commit this early. I'm the Queen of Tweaking.
It's time to pack and dash. I'll be thinking of all of you as I drive the coma-inducing Ohio, the police-filled Pennsylvania and wherever else the car takes us today. No doubt I'll be checking in from the Big Apple.
Wide-eyed stare, "Who are THESE FOR?"
.... moment pause .... "WHAT DAY IS TODAY??"
It was great.
2. Little Shop of Horrors Show -- Very good.
She loved it.
3. Awake at 4:30 am?
Check
4. Tearful goodbye at bus = "Seeya mom" as she runs for the bus.
Ahem
5. Survivor Fantasy Team picked?
Check. Though I hate having to commit this early. I'm the Queen of Tweaking.
It's time to pack and dash. I'll be thinking of all of you as I drive the coma-inducing Ohio, the police-filled Pennsylvania and wherever else the car takes us today. No doubt I'll be checking in from the Big Apple.
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
Practice, Practice, Practice
It's hard to believe that ten months have passed since TinyTuna was accepted into the ranks of the MSU Children's Choir, and learned that they would be singing in New York City in Carnegie Hall.
The choir is READY, both musically and emotionally. They are unbelievably focused on the upcoming performance at hand. It's interesting, because it really doesn't seem to matter to them if it's Carnegie Hall or Joe's Hall down the street. No matter where they perform, they come in with their game faces on, pony-tails perfectly executed, uniforms pressed, and their hearts and minds set on the task at hand.
This child of mine, who has never been on an airplane, never really been away from family and never been to New York City is over-the-moon excited about the trip. Her things are (almost) packed, and she's ready to go.
She leaves at 5:45 am tomorrow morning.
But I'll tell you a secret.
Tucked away behind the hairspray, the perfectly matching brown hairbands, the spit-shined shoes, the clean black socks, the large-scale commissioned piece for children's choir and symphony orchestra, the TWO pencils, the itinerary and the photo ID...will be Fluffy. The dearest, most-beloved, scrawniest, saddest-looking, oldest, not-so-white and definitely not-so-fluffy anymore stuffed cat.
Because you know, she's only a kid.
And game faces only travel so far.
The choir is READY, both musically and emotionally. They are unbelievably focused on the upcoming performance at hand. It's interesting, because it really doesn't seem to matter to them if it's Carnegie Hall or Joe's Hall down the street. No matter where they perform, they come in with their game faces on, pony-tails perfectly executed, uniforms pressed, and their hearts and minds set on the task at hand.
This child of mine, who has never been on an airplane, never really been away from family and never been to New York City is over-the-moon excited about the trip. Her things are (almost) packed, and she's ready to go.
She leaves at 5:45 am tomorrow morning.
But I'll tell you a secret.
Tucked away behind the hairspray, the perfectly matching brown hairbands, the spit-shined shoes, the clean black socks, the large-scale commissioned piece for children's choir and symphony orchestra, the TWO pencils, the itinerary and the photo ID...will be Fluffy. The dearest, most-beloved, scrawniest, saddest-looking, oldest, not-so-white and definitely not-so-fluffy anymore stuffed cat.
Because you know, she's only a kid.
And game faces only travel so far.
Practice, Practice, Practice
It's hard to believe that ten months have passed since TinyTuna was accepted into the ranks of the MSU Children's Choir, and learned that they would be singing in New York City in Carnegie Hall.
The choir is READY, both musically and emotionally. They are unbelievably focused on the upcoming performance at hand. It's interesting, because it really doesn't seem to matter to them if it's Carnegie Hall or Joe's Hall down the street. No matter where they perform, they come in with their game faces on, pony-tails perfectly executed, uniforms pressed, and their hearts and minds set on the task at hand.
This child of mine, who has never been on an airplane, never really been away from family and never been to New York City is over-the-moon excited about the trip. Her things are (almost) packed, and she's ready to go.
She leaves at 5:45 am tomorrow morning.
But I'll tell you a secret.
Tucked away behind the hairspray, the perfectly matching brown hairbands, the spit-shined shoes, the clean black socks, the large-scale commissioned piece for children's choir and symphony orchestra, the TWO pencils, the itinerary and the photo ID...will be Fluffy. The dearest, most-beloved, scrawniest, saddest-looking, oldest, not-so-white and definitely not-so-fluffy anymore stuffed cat.
Because you know, she's only a kid.
And game faces only travel so far.
The choir is READY, both musically and emotionally. They are unbelievably focused on the upcoming performance at hand. It's interesting, because it really doesn't seem to matter to them if it's Carnegie Hall or Joe's Hall down the street. No matter where they perform, they come in with their game faces on, pony-tails perfectly executed, uniforms pressed, and their hearts and minds set on the task at hand.
This child of mine, who has never been on an airplane, never really been away from family and never been to New York City is over-the-moon excited about the trip. Her things are (almost) packed, and she's ready to go.
She leaves at 5:45 am tomorrow morning.
But I'll tell you a secret.
Tucked away behind the hairspray, the perfectly matching brown hairbands, the spit-shined shoes, the clean black socks, the large-scale commissioned piece for children's choir and symphony orchestra, the TWO pencils, the itinerary and the photo ID...will be Fluffy. The dearest, most-beloved, scrawniest, saddest-looking, oldest, not-so-white and definitely not-so-fluffy anymore stuffed cat.
Because you know, she's only a kid.
And game faces only travel so far.
Give A Hoot, Please Don't Loot
In the midst of the excitement and hubbub that is TunaU Basketball frenzy (Men's AND Women's Hoops in the Final Four, Baby), an interesting directive has come down from on high. In an email received this morning, we, the older and wiser faculty and staff, were instructed to discuss responsible behavior, and exhort our highly impressionable wards to display good sportsmanship and citizenship over the upcoming weekend.
As a grownup, I like to think I display a certain amount emulative behaviors. I sit up straight, I say "please" and "thank you", and I eat all my vegetables. What's not to love?
My problem, though, is figuring out how to sneak things like, "don't act like a jerkwad and burn your sofa in the street" into casual conversation, much less doctoral-level library research.
This isn't our first challenging directive at our beloved land of higher education. In January all faculty were instructed to incorporate Tsunami education in their classes. For musicians, you might think this would have been an impossible challenge:
Rioting is bad, MmmmmKay?
Eat your peas.
As a grownup, I like to think I display a certain amount emulative behaviors. I sit up straight, I say "please" and "thank you", and I eat all my vegetables. What's not to love?
My problem, though, is figuring out how to sneak things like, "don't act like a jerkwad and burn your sofa in the street" into casual conversation, much less doctoral-level library research.
"Ahhh, Stravinsky. Do you recall the public uproar that occurred when he premiered The Rite of Spring? The crowds were so upset that he had to climb out a bathroom window to safety. Speaking public uproars, don't be a jerkwad and burn your sofa in the street this weekend."Somehow I'm guessing the last thing a jerkwad is going to consider as the La-Z-Boy goes up in flames is being a model citizen. And as for our level of influence, let me just say if we can't stem the tide of buffet dinners that students sneak into the reference stacks ("Rodents be damned! Gimme cheezy bread sticks!") I doubt we will be particularly effective against street riots.
"Yes Joe Freshman. Your CD is due in one weeks time. Please be aware that you will be fined for all damages incurred should you so foolishly choose to burn your sofa in the street..."
This isn't our first challenging directive at our beloved land of higher education. In January all faculty were instructed to incorporate Tsunami education in their classes. For musicians, you might think this would have been an impossible challenge:
We will now listen to "La Mer" (The Sea) by Debussy. How do you suppose this composition would sound if he were describing something bigger...like an ocean. Speaking of oceans, how about that Tsunami?But we're a creative bunch, and just like the Tsunami before us, we are ready to preach the message of model behavior. I'm going to go for a combination South Park / Mommy Dearest approach:
Rioting is bad, MmmmmKay?
Eat your peas.
Give A Hoot, Please Don't Loot
In the midst of the excitement and hubbub that is TunaU Basketball frenzy (Men's AND Women's Hoops in the Final Four, Baby), an interesting directive has come down from on high. In an email received this morning, we, the older and wiser faculty and staff, were instructed to discuss responsible behavior, and exhort our highly impressionable wards to display good sportsmanship and citizenship over the upcoming weekend.
As a grownup, I like to think I display a certain amount emulative behaviors. I sit up straight, I say "please" and "thank you", and I eat all my vegetables. What's not to love?
My problem, though, is figuring out how to sneak things like, "don't act like a jerkwad and burn your sofa in the street" into casual conversation, much less doctoral-level library research.
This isn't our first challenging directive at our beloved land of higher education. In January all faculty were instructed to incorporate Tsunami education in their classes. For musicians, you might think this would have been an impossible challenge:
Rioting is bad, MmmmmKay?
Eat your peas.
As a grownup, I like to think I display a certain amount emulative behaviors. I sit up straight, I say "please" and "thank you", and I eat all my vegetables. What's not to love?
My problem, though, is figuring out how to sneak things like, "don't act like a jerkwad and burn your sofa in the street" into casual conversation, much less doctoral-level library research.
"Ahhh, Stravinsky. Do you recall the public uproar that occurred when he premiered The Rite of Spring? The crowds were so upset that he had to climb out a bathroom window to safety. Speaking public uproars, don't be a jerkwad and burn your sofa in the street this weekend."Somehow I'm guessing the last thing a jerkwad is going to consider as the La-Z-Boy goes up in flames is being a model citizen. And as for our level of influence, let me just say if we can't stem the tide of buffet dinners that students sneak into the reference stacks ("Rodents be damned! Gimme cheezy bread sticks!") I doubt we will be particularly effective against street riots.
"Yes Joe Freshman. Your CD is due in one weeks time. Please be aware that you will be fined for all damages incurred should you so foolishly choose to burn your sofa in the street..."
This isn't our first challenging directive at our beloved land of higher education. In January all faculty were instructed to incorporate Tsunami education in their classes. For musicians, you might think this would have been an impossible challenge:
We will now listen to "La Mer" (The Sea) by Debussy. How do you suppose this composition would sound if he were describing something bigger...like an ocean. Speaking of oceans, how about that Tsunami?But we're a creative bunch, and just like the Tsunami before us, we are ready to preach the message of model behavior. I'm going to go for a combination South Park / Mommy Dearest approach:
Rioting is bad, MmmmmKay?
Eat your peas.
Friday, March 25, 2005
FRIDAY PEEPSTACULAR
Friday Feast is served....Sorry about the bird.
..HEY!
APPETIZER: What is the worst movie you've ever seen?
THE BIRDS. WHAT A BUNCH OF AMATEURS.
Under the Rainbow - an insulting film starring Chevy Chase, Carrie Fisher and a bunch of munchkins wishing to audition for The Wizard of Oz who spend the film trashing a hotel. Oops. SPOILER ALERT BACK THERE. Stinker doesn't come close.
SOUP: Name something that reminds you of your childhood.
MINI MARSHMALLOWS!! BA-DUMP-PEEP!
Captain Kangaroo
SALAD: If you had to live in a large city, which one would you want it to be?
ARE YOU KIDDING ME? LONDON, BABY. IT'S ALL JULIE ANDREWS AND FEED THE BIRDS. HUBBA HUBBA! PEEP PEEP PEEP PEEP!
Munich. With the Hofbrauhaus nearby, I'm set for life.
MAIN COURSE: What's a "Big Word" that you like to use to impress people?
PEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!
Inconceivable.
You keep using that word.
I do not think it means what you think it means.
DESSERT: Describe your hairstyle
YELLOW
SHORT
..HEY!
APPETIZER: What is the worst movie you've ever seen?
THE BIRDS. WHAT A BUNCH OF AMATEURS. Under the Rainbow - an insulting film starring Chevy Chase, Carrie Fisher and a bunch of munchkins wishing to audition for The Wizard of Oz who spend the film trashing a hotel. Oops. SPOILER ALERT BACK THERE. Stinker doesn't come close.SOUP: Name something that reminds you of your childhood.
MINI MARSHMALLOWS!! BA-DUMP-PEEP! Captain KangarooSALAD: If you had to live in a large city, which one would you want it to be?
ARE YOU KIDDING ME? LONDON, BABY. IT'S ALL JULIE ANDREWS AND FEED THE BIRDS. HUBBA HUBBA! PEEP PEEP PEEP PEEP! Munich. With the Hofbrauhaus nearby, I'm set for life.MAIN COURSE: What's a "Big Word" that you like to use to impress people?
PEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP! Inconceivable. You keep using that word.I do not think it means what you think it means.
DESSERT: Describe your hairstyle
YELLOW SHORT
FRIDAY PEEPSTACULAR
Friday Feast is served....Sorry about the bird.
..HEY!
APPETIZER: What is the worst movie you've ever seen?
THE BIRDS. WHAT A BUNCH OF AMATEURS.
Under the Rainbow - an insulting film starring Chevy Chase, Carrie Fisher and a bunch of munchkins wishing to audition for The Wizard of Oz who spend the film trashing a hotel. Oops. SPOILER ALERT BACK THERE. Stinker doesn't come close.
SOUP: Name something that reminds you of your childhood.
MINI MARSHMALLOWS!! BA-DUMP-PEEP!
Captain Kangaroo
SALAD: If you had to live in a large city, which one would you want it to be?
ARE YOU KIDDING ME? LONDON, BABY. IT'S ALL JULIE ANDREWS AND FEED THE BIRDS. HUBBA HUBBA! PEEP PEEP PEEP PEEP!
Munich. With the Hofbrauhaus nearby, I'm set for life.
MAIN COURSE: What's a "Big Word" that you like to use to impress people?
PEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!
Inconceivable.
You keep using that word.
I do not think it means what you think it means.
DESSERT: Describe your hairstyle
YELLOW
SHORT
..HEY!
APPETIZER: What is the worst movie you've ever seen?
THE BIRDS. WHAT A BUNCH OF AMATEURS. Under the Rainbow - an insulting film starring Chevy Chase, Carrie Fisher and a bunch of munchkins wishing to audition for The Wizard of Oz who spend the film trashing a hotel. Oops. SPOILER ALERT BACK THERE. Stinker doesn't come close.SOUP: Name something that reminds you of your childhood.
MINI MARSHMALLOWS!! BA-DUMP-PEEP! Captain KangarooSALAD: If you had to live in a large city, which one would you want it to be?
ARE YOU KIDDING ME? LONDON, BABY. IT'S ALL JULIE ANDREWS AND FEED THE BIRDS. HUBBA HUBBA! PEEP PEEP PEEP PEEP! Munich. With the Hofbrauhaus nearby, I'm set for life.MAIN COURSE: What's a "Big Word" that you like to use to impress people?
PEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP! Inconceivable. You keep using that word.I do not think it means what you think it means.
DESSERT: Describe your hairstyle
YELLOW SHORT
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