Music Teacher Madness

The music teacher was easily bored.  She had never managed to stick to anything for very long and was reaching the dangerous stage where she had been in her current job as long as any other. Another Christmas Nativity, another afternoon of carol singing outside the local supermarket and another lesson observation loomed and it all seemed very familiar.  "I need more excitement in my life," she stupidly thought, "I know,  I'll enter the choir for a national competition."

The choir were excited and most of them learnt their words and sang tunefully, harmonising with each other. They watched the previous winners on YouTube and were keen to start adding choreography.  The music teacher reminded them that they had to get the singing right first as the initial round was judged from a recording.  If they got through to the final then they could add dance-moves.

The time came to record their entry.  A quarter of the choir were absent and the recording was terrible.  The music teacher put her head in her hands and cried.  "We probably won't get through to the final," she said, "but I would like it if we sent in a recording that shows what we can actually do."  The children disagreed.  Not only were they going to get to the final but they were going to win the whole thing and they said it should be recorded again - maybe in school time when everyone would be there.

The music teacher agreed to go in on her day off to re-record their entry.  "Yes!" she thought, "that shows what they can do!"  She went home and burnt the recording onto a CD, printed off an entry form filled it in and popped it an an envelope before teaching her evening flute pupils.

One of the flute pupils was also in the choir.  "Is that it?" she asked, pointing at the envelope.
"Yes"
"I think we should record it again because it could be better and you should ask Petunia not to come because she can't sing in tune."
"Oh no!  It's good enough.  It shows what we can do at the moment.  We want to be better if we get to the final."
"When we get to the final."
"We might not."
"How many schools will enter?"
"I don't know"
"How many places are there?"
"I don't know"
"What if there are 6 places and only 5 choirs in the final?  Then we will know that we only got in because not many entered."
"That's a point.  The competition will be quite tough though because music teachers wouldn't enter their choir unless they thought they were pretty good."
"That's good!  We'll definitely get through then because there won't be many entries."
The music teacher began to shake, her stomach was doing back-flips. She wondered what she had been thinking.
"Are you alright, Miss?  You look a bit sick."
"Oh, errm, well.  It's just that it's a bit scary isn't it?"
"No.  Why?"
"Well, if we do get through the other choirs might be really good."
"Probably, they'll be all those private schools with their proper music teachers who really know what they're doing."
The music teacher laughed and felt better.
She walked the dog round to the postbox and there was no turning back.

A strange e-mail appeared in the music teacher's in-box.
"Dear Music teacher who doesn't really know what she's doing,

Guess what?  You're through.  We don't know how, it must be some kind of fluke. We were hoping that there would be lots of private schools with 'proper' music teachers entering but it seems that you are the only one. Please present yourself and your choir at the Barbican immediately."

The music teacher finished applying superglue to the bottom of Maude's feet and turned round to see thousands of clowns in an audience, all sitting on red velour seats.  They were noisily eating popcorn and throwing sweet wrappers around.  She recognised some of the clowns as people that she worked with and parents of the children in her choir.  She turned and looked at her choir and they all laughed.  She raised her hands to start the song and they shook.
"Does she have Parkinson's?" one of the clowns shouted
"I don't know but she could have put some clothes on," replied another.

Facebook Etiquette

There should be a guide for facebook etiquette.  There probably is one.  It probably says, "DON'T USE FACEBOOK."  It seems to me that there are endless opportunities for offending people with social media that you didn't intend.

The 'like' button is a real problem.  I've been playing far too much Candy Crush and so between lives I see the newsfeed and find myself liking everything.  I must look like some crazy stalker.  Can I really like everything?  Actually, I probably do.  I am an inherently nosey person.  I like to know what is going on.

Sometimes, I find myself liking something and then immediately unliking it because the sentance is not something you can like. Hitting the like button becomes a shorhand for saying you've read the status, understood it, empathised with it or it made you laugh but if you are not careful you can like the fact that someone's cat has just died.

Today, I may have overshared (another fatal social media error) and then was promptly faced with all sorts of like/dislike dilemmas.  My status was, "It's concerning me that my anxiety dreams feature being chased by women in floral skirts with elasticated waists and hairy chins."  This is because I have a music competition to attend today and last night was filled with anxious fretful dreams.  I know these dreams are just my mind's way of working out everthing that might go wrong, so that it doesn't.  I know that words won't be forgotten, all the electrical equipment will be working, it won't rain so much that the car floats away down the lane before we can get out, it won't be so hot that the judges melt before we get there and I know I won't be chased by an angry woman in an elasticated waisted floral skirt with a hairy chin.

This particular woman, or versions of her, appear in my anxiety dreams with increasing regularily. I know this woman and she terrifies me (and another music teacher, who commented on my status).  When I was having coffee with a friend we watched people go up and down the High Street and I noticed that all the ex-music teachers that I knew had hairy chins and wore long floral skirts with elasticated waists and a top that didn't match. Quite often they were in sandles with socks and had their vest showing and sometimes had a bit of food dribbled on their chin.  I know that this isn't a scientifially representative sample (3) but it still got me worrying about my future self, which somehow keeps slipping into my dreams.

The problem with posting a status like this is that I want to hit the like button for comments that people post that make me laugh.  When someone posts, "It wasn't me!" or "I must remember to shave today!" it's funny but I worry that if I hit 'like' it appears as though I think they look like the woman in my dream, which they don't and they must know they don't but if I don't acknowledge the comment does that make it look like I don't think it's funny?  

It's all so difficult that I might just roll over and go back to sleep but I'm scared of the woman waiting to chase me.