And We Still Remember

I don't post here too often these days (though I plan on going back and filling in a few holes when I can), but I'll never neglect to post this on this day:

Where were you when you heard the news? (And it's odd to think that literally all of my public school students--and many of my college students--would have to say "not yet born." The current class of college juniors, including my oldest nephew, were infants at the time.)

Here's my story: I was on a break from teaching, like every Tuesday, and actually spent the time of the attacks in blissful ignorance at a nearby Starbucks. I had CD's on in my car instead of the radio, so I totally missed the news on both the way over and the way back. I did hear someone listening to a radio on the Starbucks patio and they were talking about "the second plane," but it didn't register with me at all. (It amazed me later that nobody walked inside and told us about it.)

When I got back to the school, the flute teacher stopped me in the hallway and asked me if all my students were being pulled out of school (evidently hers were). I said, "No, why?" and she told me what had happened. I spent the rest of the day like everyone else, in shocked, depressed amazement, catching the news when I could. There I was, not even two weeks into being a homeowner, and the world suddenly felt so different. It added to the pall cast over everything when I found out that the sister of a girl I graduated from high school with was on Flight 93, the one that crashed in a field in Pennsylvania. (I know that there have been quite a few lists of names read aloud today, so let me share hers: Lauren Catuzzi Grandcolas. May she rest in peace...)

The whole thing felt so surreal; how could anyone hate us that much? The concept of the suicide hijacking was unprecedented as well (before that, hijackers just usually wanted to go to Cuba, and that's why airline personnel were taught to cooperate with them rather than try to subdue them).

I know there are still terrorist plots being hatched, and people capable of carrying them out...but I hope nothing like this ever happens on U.S. soil again. Or anywhere, for that matter.

As I often say on this day, I hope nobody tires of talking about this every once in a while, because if we stop talking, we might forget, and this is a day that need not be forgotten anytime soon.

Kids Say the Darnedest Things When They Name Their Instruments

 

Today, my top middle school tenor player got his horn back from the shop. The director also informed me that the kid had named his good horn “Rupert,” which I don’t think he had ever told me.

 

ME: So you named your horn Rupert, huh?

KID: I did! 

 

(Brief explanation of why, which isn’t germane to this story, followed)

 

ME: So did your temporary horn have a name too?

KID: Yes…it’s Barbara.

ME: Why’s that?

KID: The horn is really old, so I was looking for an old person name for it.

ME: I’ll be sure and tell my mom you said that.

KID: *looks embarrassed*

ME: Don’t worry, I won’t actually tell her.

KID: Thank you.

Twenty Years Later, We Still Remember

Where were you when you heard the news? (And it's odd to think that literally all of my public school students--and many of my college students--would have to say "not yet born." The current class of college juniors, including my oldest nephew, were infants at the time.)

Here's my story: I was on a break from teaching, like every Tuesday, and actually spent the time of the attacks in blissful ignorance at a nearby Starbucks. I had CD's on in my car instead of the radio, so I totally missed the news on both the way over and the way back. I did hear someone listening to a radio on the Starbucks patio and they were talking about "the second plane," but it didn't register with me at all. (It amazed me later that nobody walked inside and told us about it.)

When I got back to the school, the flute teacher stopped me in the hallway and asked me if all my students were being pulled out of school (evidently hers were). I said, "No, why?" and she told me what had happened. I spent the rest of the day like everyone else, in shocked, depressed amazement, catching the news when I could. There I was, not even two weeks into being a homeowner, and the world suddenly felt so different. It added to the pall cast over everything when I found out that the sister of a girl I graduated from high school with was on Flight 93, the one that crashed in a field in Pennsylvania. (I know that there have been quite a few lists of names read aloud today, so let me share hers: Lauren Catuzzi Grandcolas. May she rest in peace...)

The whole thing felt so surreal; how could anyone hate us that much? The concept of the suicide hijacking was unprecedented as well (before that, hijackers just usually wanted to go to Cuba, and that's why airline personnel were taught to cooperate with them rather than try to subdue them).

I know there are still terrorist plots being hatched, and people capable of carrying them out...but I hope nothing like this ever happens on U.S. soil again. Or anywhere, for that matter.

As I often say on this day, I hope nobody tires of talking about this every once in a while, because if we stop talking, we might forget, and this is a day that need not be forgotten anytime soon.

Reflections on a Most Unusual TMEA

 The annual TMEA convention was virtual this year. Now that it's in the books (though the clinics are available for registrants through June) I offer a few random thoughts:

—First and foremost, I’m really glad that the convention was held, even if in a form that none of us could have imagined at this time last year. I still came away from it renewed and refreshed, a little bit more on fire to be better at bringing this wonderful art called music to the next generation.

—I was very impressed with the audio and video quality of the concerts and clinics; as some said in the comments, things were “TMEA quality.”. Despite the large number of people viewing some of these things, there was hardly any lag at all—certainly a lot less than during an average day of teaching lessons.

—I liked the comment box that was available during all the events.  Everyone followed the instructions to keep things positive (at least in the events that I attended), and it was cool to watch the names fly by:  Friends I might have seen if I’d been there in person, past TMEA officers, legendary educators in the state, etc. One of the best moments was, during a piece by a composer with whose work I was familiar, seeing the composer herself pop on and compliment the performance.

—Despite the major hit that this obviously gave to the San Antonio economy, it was probably a blessing that we weren’t down there in person this year. It was in the 30s down there most of the weekend (which would have put a major damper on outside dining on the Riverwalk), and imagine everyone trying to travel back today (or last night for me, if I’d had All-Staters).

—It was great to be able to see any concert whenever you wanted,  from their original air times through the convention’s closing last night. I was able to see the things I missed on Thursday night while teaching, as well as some concerts that ran concurrently with other ones I was watching at their regular times. I got to see several things I wouldn’t normally see, most notably the orchestras (the invited middle and high school groups, as well as the Houston Symphony, whom I hadn’t seen since I was a kid).

—I do wish there was some way that the All-State groups could have been able to collaborate on something, even if it was a single piece in one of those stitched-together video performances. But with Area being just over a month ago, that might have been a tall order to distribute, learn and record the music, and someone would have had a few sleepless nights compiling the video.

—Even though the concerts and clinics were inspiring, the one thing I really missed was, of course, the people. There are friends I only see once a year (often at the exact same place each time, completely randomly). I missed the fellowship of the UNT reunion (even the crazy elevator ride), and the many other encounters along the way, (It’s funny to see the faces of my All-Staters when I run into maybe 10 people I know before we even get to the convention center to pick up our badges.)



—And of course I miss the food: Casa Rio, The Original, Paesano’s, and County Line BBQ. And I miss staying in the Drury Plaza Riverwalk,  located in a historic old bank building from 1929.

I leave you with two pictures of things that gave me joy this weekend:  Friday night, when we did a very stripped down, virtual version of the annual Sinfonia Sing, and yesterday evening, watching a middle school band that went to great lengths to include the virtual students in their concert.

 May we all be together again in 2022!

We Still Remember

Where were you when you heard the news? (And it's odd to think that literally all of my public school students would have to say "not yet born." The current class of college juniors, including my oldest nephew, were infants at the time.)

Here's my story: I was on a break from teaching, like every Tuesday, and actually spent the time of the attacks in blissful ignorance at a nearby Starbucks. I had CD's on in my car instead of the radio, so I totally missed the news on both the way over and the way back. I did hear someone listening to a radio on the Starbucks patio and they were talking about "the second plane," but it didn't register with me at all. (It amazed me later that nobody walked inside and told us about it.)

When I got back to the school, the flute teacher stopped me in the hallway and asked me if all my students were being pulled out of school (evidently hers were). I said, "No, why?" and she told me what had happened. I spent the rest of the day like everyone else, in shocked, depressed amazement, catching the news when I could. There I was, not even two weeks into being a homeowner, and the world suddenly felt so different. It added to the pall cast over everything when I found out that the sister of a girl I graduated from high school with was on Flight 93, the one that crashed in a field in Pennsylvania. (I know that there have been quite a few lists of names read aloud today, so let me share hers: Lauren Catuzzi Grandcolas. May she rest in peace...)

The whole thing felt so surreal; how could anyone hate us that much? The concept of the suicide hijacking was unprecedented as well (before that, hijackers just usually wanted to go to Cuba, and that's why airline personnel were taught to cooperate with them rather than try to subdue them).

I know there are still terrorist plots being hatched, and people capable of carrying them out...but I hope nothing like this ever happens on U.S. soil again. Or anywhere, for that matter.

As I often say on this day, I hope nobody tires of talking about this every once in a while, because if we stop talking, we might forget, and this is a day that need not be forgotten anytime soon.

We Still Remember

Where were you when you heard the news? (And it's odd to think that literally all of my public school students would have to say "not yet born," though I think my oldest senior turns 18 tomorrow. The current class of college freshmen were infants at the time.)

Here's my story: I was on a break from teaching, like every Tuesday, and actually spent the time of the attacks in blissful ignorance at a nearby Starbucks. I had CD's on in my car instead of the radio, so I totally missed the news on both the way over and the way back. I did hear someone listening to a radio on the Starbucks patio and they were talking about "the second plane," but it didn't register with me at all. (It amazed me later that nobody walked inside and told us about it.)

When I got back to the school, the flute teacher stopped me in the hallway and asked me if all my students were being pulled out of school (evidently hers were). I said, "No, why?" and she told me what had happened. I spent the rest of the day like everyone else, in shocked, depressed amazement, catching the news when I could. There I was, not even two weeks into being a homeowner, and the world suddenly felt so different. It added to the pall cast over everything when I found out that the sister of a girl I graduated from high school with was on Flight 93, the one that crashed in a field in Pennsylvania. (I know that there have been quite a few lists of names read aloud today, so let me share hers: Lauren Catuzzi Grandcolas. May she rest in peace...)

The whole thing felt so surreal; how could anyone hate us that much? The concept of the suicide hijacking was unprecedented as well (before that, hijackers just usually wanted to go to Cuba, and that's why airline personnel were taught to cooperate with them rather than try to subdue them).

I know there are still terrorist plots being hatched, and people capable of carrying them out...but I hope nothing like this ever happens on U.S. soil again. Or anywhere, for that matter.

As I often say on this day, I hope nobody tires of talking about this every once in a while, because if we stop talking, we might forget, and this is a day that need not be forgotten anytime soon.

We Still Remember

Once again, the anniversary of 9/11 falls on a Tuesday. (I was also at the Starbucks mentioned in the story below just yesterday.)  Where were you when you heard the news?

Here's my story: I was on a break from teaching, like every Tuesday, and actually spent the time of the attacks in blissful ignorance at a nearby Starbucks. I had CD's on in my car instead of the radio, so I totally missed the news on both the way over and the way back. I did hear someone listening to a radio on the Starbucks patio and they were talking about "the second plane," but it didn't register with me at all. (It amazed me later that nobody walked inside and told us about it.)

When I got back to the school, the flute teacher stopped me in the hallway and asked me if all my students were being pulled out of school (evidently hers were). I said, "No, why?" and she told me what had happened. I spent the rest of the day like everyone else, in shocked, depressed amazement, catching the news when I could. There I was, not even two weeks into being a homeowner, and the world suddenly felt so different. It added to the pall cast over everything when I found out that the sister of a girl I graduated from high school with was on Flight 93, the one that crashed in a field in Pennsylvania. (I know that there have been quite a few lists of names read aloud today, so let me share hers: Lauren Catuzzi Grandcolas. May she rest in peace...)

The whole thing felt so surreal; how could anyone hate us that much? The concept of the suicide hijacking was unprecedented as well (before that, hijackers just usually wanted to go to Cuba, and that's why airline personnel were taught to cooperate with them rather than try to subdue them).

I know there are still terrorist plots being hatched, and people capable of carrying them out...but I hope nothing like this ever happens on U.S. soil again. Or anywhere, for that matter.

As I often say on this day, I hope nobody tires of talking about this every once in a while, because if we stop talking, we might forget, and this is a day that need not be forgotten anytime soon.

Kids Say the Darnedest Things About Their Families

From last week, when I was seeing everyone for the first time after a week off...

KID: I have to tell you, I didn’t get to practice very much since the last time I saw you.
ME: Oh yeah? So you had a busy Thanksgiving?
KID: Yeah, my two cousins got married.
ME: (ponders that for a second)
KID: Not to each other.
ME: That’s good to hear.

Teachers Say the Darnedest Things When Their Students Make Mistakes

A kid earlier today was playing a passage marked “legato,” and I was curious as to whether he knew the definition...

ME: So what does this term mean?
KID: Legato.
ME: Yes, the word is “legato,” but do you know what it means?
KID (hesitates): I can’t remember.
ME: So you forgotto?

Just Curious...

Is today the day they get free Slurpees in Europe? They do write the date as 7/11, after all.

Let's Talk Baseball for a Minute

I grew up as an Astros fan, seeing lots of games at the ‘Dome with my dad. Even as I moved to DFW for college and stayed here, I still supported my old team, cheering them on against everyone but my Rangers (which was easy when they were still in the NL).

When the Astros moved to not only the AL, but the AL West, things changed a bit. It was really weird being at Minute Maid in the summer of ‘16, with Dad and me rooting for opposite teams. But I’ve spent far more years in DFW than I did in Houston, and I’m totally invested in the Rangers.

Still, I was all in for the Astros during this Series. I supported them for Dad, as a tribute to my childhood, and to support the city where I spent my formative years—a city that really needed a lift this fall.

Am I bummed that the Astros took home a championship before my Rangers did? Sure. Will I resume rooting for the Rangers to whomp the Astros at every opportunity once next season starts? You bet! But tonight, I celebrate with my hometown and its fans, and lots of other Texans. And I already can’t wait for next baseball season to start.

Kids Say the Darnedest Things About Instruments They Don't Recognize.

Kids say the darnedest things about instruments they don’t recognize. Earlier today at a middle school, a kid picks up a horn in its case that’s been left on the floor in the percussion area...

KID: Whose French horn is this?
(I look over and notice that the kid is in fact carrying a trombone.)
KID #2: That’s not a French horn!
KID #3: Yeah, that’s a trumpet!
(I’d like to think that Kid #3 actually knew what it was and was just messing with the first kid.)

A Smal Bit of Music Humor

I’ve been eating my Thursday lunch at Taco Bueno the past few weeks. Last week, the piped-in music was cutting in and out so much that they finally just turned it off (right before I was about to ask them to do so myself). This week, the music was evidently still not working, so I ate my meal in complete silence.

My order number for this silent lunch? 433.

KIds Say the Darnedest Things When They're Just Getting Started

A beginner in his first lesson had this to say as we were finishing up...

KID: I don't know why, but I get a whole lot of enjoyment from pushing this button. (It was the G key, if you're curious.)
ME: Well, if that's the case, you'll really enjoy the saxophone in general, because you get to use that key a lot.

We Still Remember

My remembrances of this day in 2001, first published two years after the fact (in the first year of this blog), and only edited slightly since then: Here's my story: I was on a break from teaching, like every Tuesday, and actually spent the time of the attacks in blissful ignorance at a nearby Starbucks. I had CD's on in my car instead of the radio, so I totally missed the news on both the way over and the way back. I did hear someone listening to a radio on the Starbucks patio and they were talking about "the second plane," but it didn't register with me at all. (It amazed me later that nobody walked inside and told us about it.) When I got back to the school, the flute teacher stopped me in the hallway and asked me if all my students were being pulled out of school (evidently hers were). I said, "No, why?" and she told me what had happened. I spent the rest of the day like everyone else, in shocked, depressed amazement, catching the news when I could. There I was, not even two weeks into being a homeowner, and the world suddenly felt so different. It added to the pall cast over everything when I found out that the sister of a girl I graduated from high school with was on Flight 93, the one that crashed in a field in Pennsylvania. (I know that there have been quite a few lists of names read aloud today, so let me share hers: Lauren Catuzzi Grandcolas. May she rest in peace...) The whole thing felt so surreal; how could anyone hate us that much? The concept of the suicide hijacking was unprecedented as well (before that, hijackers just usually wanted to go to Cuba, and that's why airline personnel were taught to cooperate with them rather than try to subdue them). I know there are still terrorist plots being hatched, and people capable of carrying them out...but I hope nothing like this ever happens on U.S. soil again. Or anywhere, for that matter. As I said a year ago, I hope nobody tires of talking about this every once in a while, because if we stop talking, we might forget, and this is a day that need not be forgotten anytime soon.

Kids Say the Darnedest Things About Their Abilities

On the last day of sectionals earlier this week, I had everyone play at least four bars of one of the All-Region etudes for the group. Part of it went like this: KID #1: I will play the first four bars of Etude 2. (does so) KID #2: I'm gonna play the exact same thing he did, but worse. (does so)

Kids Say the Darnedest Things About Musical Interpretation

During my recent sectionals, I was talking about the "artistic" way to do a trill on a long note--starting gradually rather than going full speed, since doing the latter in a slow piece often sounds overly aggressive, or even angry... ME: And there's nothing even remotely angry about this piece. If anything, it's a love song. KID #1: Eww! Why does it have to be a love song? I hate love songs! ME (somewhat surprised): Well, it doesn't have to be a love song. If you want, just think of it as a beautiful walk in the park. KID #2: I hate the park!

Kids Say the Darnedest Things at the End of Sectionals

At the end of a week and a half of sectionals for a couple of high schools, I always do the quick plug for lessons at the end... ME: So before we finish up, here's the quick "commercial." KID: So this means that the free trial period has ended, and now we have to pay?

Kids Also Wear the Darnedest Things

Many ensembles dress alike for State; here comes one now... First kid: All black Second kid: All black Third kid: All black Fourth kid: All black, except for powder-blue shoes and white socks (and pants that are high-water enough to make the latter really obvious)

Kids Say the Darnedest Things at State Solo & Ensemble

Overheard earlier today: KID 1: Yeah, I probably got a 3 if the judge has mercy, or a 4 otherwise. KID 2: Oh, it wasn't really that bad. KID 1: I totally messed up! KID 2: Nah, you just forgot an entire repeated section, but other than that...