I love the water. I was a competitive swimmer for about seven years. I spent many long summer hours in the backyard pool with my siblings, playing "Silent Marco Polo." (Basically, calling out "Marco!" and answering "Polo!" made things too easy in a small pool, so we just hunted and caught each other listening to the sounds of the water moving.)
Swimming is my athletic saving grace. I have lame-o monocular vision, so trying to catch and hit spherical objects is tough, y'all. Also, running...nope. I get all burning in the throat and lungs and it's not pretty. Yes, I do get that feeling as well while swimming laps, but I dunno. In the water, it just doesn't feel like I'm going to collapse and die afterward. And as soon as they invent something as super fun as swim fins for running, then maybe I'll try it out.
Besides, water reacts in a much more entertaining way while I'm expending energy. The splashing! That fun dum-dum-dum that your feet make while kicking. The plip-plop. The splish-splash. Lovely! I spent a fantastic evening this summer after a walk, lying on the deck of the pool in my apartment complex with my feet dangling in the water and staring up at the sky. I think I entertained myself for at least an hour making splashy noises in the water. Ah.
Swimming makes me feel powerful. Swimming makes me feel graceful (something I did not start to achieve on land until I took fencing). Swimming makes me feel peaceful. It's so nice and quiet down there, where I can just focus on breathing, and stretching and making that flip turn as smooth as possible.
If you need me, I'll be at the bottom of the diving well. At least until I have to come up for air.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Thursday, December 2, 2010
In which I discuss why music teachers need to stop hating fun
Tonight I went to a performance of a play in which one of my voice students was participating. The production was very well done and much of the acting was excellent--which is pretty impressive for young high school students. The play (The Ballad of the Sad Café) took a bit to draw me in and was unfortunately one of those works of art where the whole theme is "Life is nasty, brutish, and short", but I'm still glad I went.
But! That's all just set-up for the conversation that formed the genesis of this post. After the show, I got to meet my student's parents and talk with them a bit about her progress. I asked them at one point about other instruments that she had studied and they mentioned that she had taken piano for about 3 years with an IU music education major. While the girl had enjoyed her lessons and her teacher for quite a while, she became disillusioned with piano when her (assumedly well-meaning) teacher had declined to let her practice and play jazz--instead wanting the student to stick with "the standards", i.e. Classical music.
The result? She quit.
Another music student lost because of this, frankly, ridiculous notion that only the traditional Western Classical canon of music is worthy of study.
Sigh.
Now, I realize that I don't have the whole story here and there may have been other factors that led the girl to stop taking piano lessons, but still. This anecdote bespeaks an attitude that makes me absolutely furious.
As far as I can tell, this student has no intention of majoring in music. She just likes music and performing in plays and musicals. Why on earth would you squelch a student's budding love for music by refusing to let her play a genre that she actually loves and has an interest in? It was even JAZZ, for pity's sake.
It is this kind of narrow-minded nonsense among some classically-trained musicians and teachers of music that I think underlies all the hand-wringing about the always-imminent death of Classical music we often hear about. While I think a lot of that rhetoric is seriously overblown and alarmist, I DO believe that it could be a very real scenario if we as musicians continue to insist upon teaching our students nothing but the canon, especially if all they are is amateurs interested in music-making.
So, music teachers. Get off your high horses. Letting your student play or sing jazz, pop, etc. isn't going to kill them or their technique. It is not beneath your dignity as a pedagogue. Music is about expressing emotion. Music is about fun. And your obligation to that student is letting them do just that.
But! That's all just set-up for the conversation that formed the genesis of this post. After the show, I got to meet my student's parents and talk with them a bit about her progress. I asked them at one point about other instruments that she had studied and they mentioned that she had taken piano for about 3 years with an IU music education major. While the girl had enjoyed her lessons and her teacher for quite a while, she became disillusioned with piano when her (assumedly well-meaning) teacher had declined to let her practice and play jazz--instead wanting the student to stick with "the standards", i.e. Classical music.
The result? She quit.
Another music student lost because of this, frankly, ridiculous notion that only the traditional Western Classical canon of music is worthy of study.
Sigh.
Now, I realize that I don't have the whole story here and there may have been other factors that led the girl to stop taking piano lessons, but still. This anecdote bespeaks an attitude that makes me absolutely furious.
As far as I can tell, this student has no intention of majoring in music. She just likes music and performing in plays and musicals. Why on earth would you squelch a student's budding love for music by refusing to let her play a genre that she actually loves and has an interest in? It was even JAZZ, for pity's sake.
It is this kind of narrow-minded nonsense among some classically-trained musicians and teachers of music that I think underlies all the hand-wringing about the always-imminent death of Classical music we often hear about. While I think a lot of that rhetoric is seriously overblown and alarmist, I DO believe that it could be a very real scenario if we as musicians continue to insist upon teaching our students nothing but the canon, especially if all they are is amateurs interested in music-making.
So, music teachers. Get off your high horses. Letting your student play or sing jazz, pop, etc. isn't going to kill them or their technique. It is not beneath your dignity as a pedagogue. Music is about expressing emotion. Music is about fun. And your obligation to that student is letting them do just that.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
In which I have an Indiana-related adventure
I'm pleased to report that the thought "This experience that I'm having would be fun to blog about!" is starting to hit me more often. Unfortunately, the amount of blog posts I'm actually sitting down to write is not exactly corresponding in a one-to-one relationship with the number of times that thought strikes. Oh well.
At any rate, I'm going to document my experience visiting the reasonably-famous Indiana Stonehenge. Yes, Indiana has a Stonehenge--henges and other fun, stony arrangements are found throughout the world, according to the exquisitely informed Melyngoch and her compatriot, J. (Also: Wikipedia).
It took us about an hour to drive out to the site and another 45 minutes or so to hike up the alleged-haunted Browning Mountain (Looming above the ghost town of Elkinsville! Site of UFO sightings! Spooky!) But when we reached the site, I admit I was a little underwhelmed. It was just some limestone boulders jutting out of a hill. We took the requisite pictures of sacrificing each other and then I noticed some other rock formations about 25 yards away which looked niftier. Turns out THAT was actually Indiana Stonehenge. Oops.
On the way back, we paused at the Indiana StoneHEAD Farmhouse to admire the gardens and sample the raspberries and then headed back to Nashville for some delicious pizza. Ferskner and I topped the evening off with Bruster's ice cream (nutty coconut and peach) and we declared the adventure a resounding success.
At any rate, I'm going to document my experience visiting the reasonably-famous Indiana Stonehenge. Yes, Indiana has a Stonehenge--henges and other fun, stony arrangements are found throughout the world, according to the exquisitely informed Melyngoch and her compatriot, J. (Also: Wikipedia).
It took us about an hour to drive out to the site and another 45 minutes or so to hike up the alleged-haunted Browning Mountain (Looming above the ghost town of Elkinsville! Site of UFO sightings! Spooky!) But when we reached the site, I admit I was a little underwhelmed. It was just some limestone boulders jutting out of a hill. We took the requisite pictures of sacrificing each other and then I noticed some other rock formations about 25 yards away which looked niftier. Turns out THAT was actually Indiana Stonehenge. Oops.
On the way back, we paused at the Indiana StoneHEAD Farmhouse to admire the gardens and sample the raspberries and then headed back to Nashville for some delicious pizza. Ferskner and I topped the evening off with Bruster's ice cream (nutty coconut and peach) and we declared the adventure a resounding success.
Monday, June 8, 2009
In which I had a great Sabbath
Yesterday was a very good day. It was Fast and Testimony meeting, which is always pretty fantastic in the Branch. A lot of people spoke about the power of prayer and the ways in which they've seen the Lord answer their prayers. In Sunday school, we watched a fabulous video about the temple that included various religious scholars of other faiths talking about the significance of temples throughout the ages.
But the third hour was the best--for the first time in years, we got to have the lesson outside! I can't remember the last time I've gotten to do this. (I'd like to think we were paying a little homage to the early days of the Church when the Saints used to meet outside for Sunday meetings.) The weather was perfect for it; warm, sunny with some haze, so the sun wasn't very direct and we all sat on blankets underneath a tree to hear Ferskner's lesson on finding joy in our daily lives.
Everyone had to make a list at one point of ten things that bring us immediate joy and it was kind of funny to hear most of us share the deep things we picked (family, friends, etc.) while Ferskner was like "Um, I was thinking more along the lines of 'pointy-toed shoes' and 'stacking books."
Since I'm a dork and threw my list out, I'm going to redo it here and focus more on those little things that bring me an instant burst of happiness.
Ten Things that Bring Me Joy
1. Summer fruit (Especially fresh blueberries)
2. Hugs
3. Good conversation
4. Flowers that smell nice
5. Jellybeans
6. Going barefoot
7. Reading
8. Movies
9. Baking for people
10. Clear nights
Yay for Sunday!
But the third hour was the best--for the first time in years, we got to have the lesson outside! I can't remember the last time I've gotten to do this. (I'd like to think we were paying a little homage to the early days of the Church when the Saints used to meet outside for Sunday meetings.) The weather was perfect for it; warm, sunny with some haze, so the sun wasn't very direct and we all sat on blankets underneath a tree to hear Ferskner's lesson on finding joy in our daily lives.
Everyone had to make a list at one point of ten things that bring us immediate joy and it was kind of funny to hear most of us share the deep things we picked (family, friends, etc.) while Ferskner was like "Um, I was thinking more along the lines of 'pointy-toed shoes' and 'stacking books."
Since I'm a dork and threw my list out, I'm going to redo it here and focus more on those little things that bring me an instant burst of happiness.
Ten Things that Bring Me Joy
1. Summer fruit (Especially fresh blueberries)
2. Hugs
3. Good conversation
4. Flowers that smell nice
5. Jellybeans
6. Going barefoot
7. Reading
8. Movies
9. Baking for people
10. Clear nights
Yay for Sunday!
Monday, May 25, 2009
In which I envy the music of other religions
In church yesterday we watched one of those videos from the '80's that, while having some great and worthwhile messages, hasn't aged particularly well. Sure, the hairstyles and clothes are kind of embarrassing now, but what really got to me was the music. It was, to use my voice teacher's term, "Je-zak" (Jesus + Muzak), the pop-ified style of music I've heard in countless Church videos and special musical numbers during meetings. It's usually accompanied by piano and sung with as much breathiness or pressed phonation as possible. While I certainly don't fault the folks who sing it, seeing as how most of them have no vocal training, sometimes I really envy the other religious denominations with their long-standing musical traditions and trained singers.
I actually wrote a paper this semester about music education in the LDS Church and was able to briefly mention the amount of singing that accompanies our worship (group singing in almost every type of meeting, both formal and informal) and the huge amount of discretion allowed to local leadership to determine how strictly to interpret the directions from Church headquarters on proper music in worship. Because of this discretion, in a given geographical cluster of wards (congregations) in a Stake (like a diocese) you might get a bishop in one ward who will only allow music or arrangements from the hymnbook right next to a ward like mine where my friend M played the "Meditation" from Thaïs in Sacrament meeting. (Which was awesome, BTW.)
But vocal music is especially thorny. Instrumental music from outside the Church you can often get away with much easier, since it doesn't have any words. Vocal music, on the other hand, has to have a text that is doctrinally accurate and in the language of the congregation (not that I mind), but that tends to eliminate a lot of the music from non-LDS composers. In addition, music in the Church needs to avoid drawing attention to the performers themselves and away from the service.
Thus, when you combine the guidelines on appropriate music with an untrained laity who typically volunteers to do solo singing you tend to hear a lot of Je-zak in LDS Sunday meetings. No wonder I'm treated like such a freak when I visit my home ward.
I actually wrote a paper this semester about music education in the LDS Church and was able to briefly mention the amount of singing that accompanies our worship (group singing in almost every type of meeting, both formal and informal) and the huge amount of discretion allowed to local leadership to determine how strictly to interpret the directions from Church headquarters on proper music in worship. Because of this discretion, in a given geographical cluster of wards (congregations) in a Stake (like a diocese) you might get a bishop in one ward who will only allow music or arrangements from the hymnbook right next to a ward like mine where my friend M played the "Meditation" from Thaïs in Sacrament meeting. (Which was awesome, BTW.)
But vocal music is especially thorny. Instrumental music from outside the Church you can often get away with much easier, since it doesn't have any words. Vocal music, on the other hand, has to have a text that is doctrinally accurate and in the language of the congregation (not that I mind), but that tends to eliminate a lot of the music from non-LDS composers. In addition, music in the Church needs to avoid drawing attention to the performers themselves and away from the service.
Thus, when you combine the guidelines on appropriate music with an untrained laity who typically volunteers to do solo singing you tend to hear a lot of Je-zak in LDS Sunday meetings. No wonder I'm treated like such a freak when I visit my home ward.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
In which I root for the underdog
Today was the first day of my annual waterfront lifeguarding course and perhaps for the first time ever since I became a Lifeguarding Instructor (LGI), all my students passed the prerequisite skills. It was inspiring, really.
On the first day of class, potential lifeguard candidates are required to undergo a pre-course session that tests whether they have the skills and comfort in the water to endure the demands of the class. Those that have been competitive swimmers usually find this to be a breeze, but it's pretty grueling for everyone else, especially those with less-accomplished stroke technique. I've seen people literally make themselves sick attempting to complete it. In fact, when I was originally trained, I finished the 500 meter swim--in a backyard pool that was less than 25 meters which meant I had to do about 40 laps instead of the usual 20--only to climb out and throw up all over the deck. (Although, in my defense, I was just recovering from a long-term illness.)
What's so inspiring in all of this is watching the swimmers who are less sure of themselves stick it out and finish the tests, despite the pain and exhaustion. Determination and the ability to push past discomfort and get the job done are valuable traits in a lifeguard, particularly when someone's life may be on the line.
This morning, I had one girl, in particular, who barely squeaked into the course. But man, she wanted it and when the chips were down, she got the job done. It's going to be a great week.
On the first day of class, potential lifeguard candidates are required to undergo a pre-course session that tests whether they have the skills and comfort in the water to endure the demands of the class. Those that have been competitive swimmers usually find this to be a breeze, but it's pretty grueling for everyone else, especially those with less-accomplished stroke technique. I've seen people literally make themselves sick attempting to complete it. In fact, when I was originally trained, I finished the 500 meter swim--in a backyard pool that was less than 25 meters which meant I had to do about 40 laps instead of the usual 20--only to climb out and throw up all over the deck. (Although, in my defense, I was just recovering from a long-term illness.)
What's so inspiring in all of this is watching the swimmers who are less sure of themselves stick it out and finish the tests, despite the pain and exhaustion. Determination and the ability to push past discomfort and get the job done are valuable traits in a lifeguard, particularly when someone's life may be on the line.
This morning, I had one girl, in particular, who barely squeaked into the course. But man, she wanted it and when the chips were down, she got the job done. It's going to be a great week.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
In which I discuss video games as a vehicle for family togetherness
I grew up on video games. My older brother and I bonded over them when we were kids. He would play and I would watch, occasionally consulting together on the solutions to various puzzles ("Maybe...if you light those torches?") and I could wander off when things got boring or level-grindy.
As time went on and more kids came along, all of my siblings and I sort of settled into this routine on games. Some of us remain more watchers then players and a brand-new nifty game will still get us back into familiar patterns of gathering around the TV, offering unsolicited advice during moments of crisis, staying up half the night during Christmas break, and fighting over who's going to play and when.
My parents, particularly my mother, are still a bit baffled by this whole phenomenon. My father has officially been sucked into being a casual gamer through "Rock Band", but both of them still scratched their heads this past Christmas as the five kids congregated in the basement to watch a combination of us beat "The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess."
See, the five of us have grown apart in many ways over the years. We hold different (sometimes stridently different) religious views and political views. We live scattered across the country and aren't always the best in keeping in touch with each other. So, it kinda warms my heart to see us finding a way to relate to each other and bond like we did as children, despite the years.
And besides if you can't bond over watching a blond elf lay the righteous smackdown on a centuries-old evil pig-man, what can you bond over?
As time went on and more kids came along, all of my siblings and I sort of settled into this routine on games. Some of us remain more watchers then players and a brand-new nifty game will still get us back into familiar patterns of gathering around the TV, offering unsolicited advice during moments of crisis, staying up half the night during Christmas break, and fighting over who's going to play and when.
My parents, particularly my mother, are still a bit baffled by this whole phenomenon. My father has officially been sucked into being a casual gamer through "Rock Band", but both of them still scratched their heads this past Christmas as the five kids congregated in the basement to watch a combination of us beat "The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess."
See, the five of us have grown apart in many ways over the years. We hold different (sometimes stridently different) religious views and political views. We live scattered across the country and aren't always the best in keeping in touch with each other. So, it kinda warms my heart to see us finding a way to relate to each other and bond like we did as children, despite the years.
And besides if you can't bond over watching a blond elf lay the righteous smackdown on a centuries-old evil pig-man, what can you bond over?
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