Pupils have taken practical exams, I’ve been to a funeral (the Long Suffering Husband has been to two), I’ve had several concerts, the school play has had its run of three shows and tonight is our orchestra end of year concert and party. In my spare time I’ve made 6 cakes for the refreshment table, printed music, made a huge vegetarian curry, organised music and planned lessons that can happen outside (because my music room has taken on its bi-annual role of storage cupboard).
If I were Richard Curtis I’d write something witty and profound about this situation but I’m not so you’ll probably just find me rocking in a corner somewhere.
Add to the mix the weather and you’ve got very sweaty concert experiences, heatstroke in outdoor lessons, difficulty sleeping and cramp. Last night, I fell asleep biting my lip and woke up at 3am thinking, “at least I’m only conducting tomorrow and don’t have to play the flute,” before remembering the quartet we’ve put into the programme, which suddenly reminded me that I’m playing the piano for the soloist. Suddenly, the room feels even hotter.
It will be fine, though. Better than fine. These things are always worth it. The joy of a performance, even when everything seems to go wrong, is unbeatable.
I am getting on a bit now, though and I worry that it’s beginning to show. I was told so in a class lesson, where I had taken the children outside to bounce tennis balls to my made up song.”
We sang, “Brave Grace Darling. Lived in a lighthouse. SS Forefarshire crashed on the rocks. How many survivors did she save?” Then we bounced balls and caught them to find the answer. Six year olds aren’t great at bouncing at catching balls, so not many of them managed to save as many as Grace did (9), except one or two very talented children who saved a ‘billion squillion’. When I was bouncing the ball a little group of children watched. I’d got up to 89 survivors before one little girl gasped and said, “Wow, you’re really old and you can still count really good!”
At the end of one of the school plays the headteacher gave his speech about how hard everyone had worked. Headteachers are required to do this by law but there is no training and at the end of term they are exhausted. If you don’t work in a school and just watch these productions then you probably have no idea how many lunch breaks are given up to persuade the children to project, understand a funny line, dance, put themselves out of their comfort zone and make props. Thanking all these efforts is a very tricky job to do because it’s too easy to forget someone, or imply that one of your teachers is old or stressed. This year our headteacher was particularly emotional, as our kids had managed the trick of singing like angels in the last song to make everyone cry and so he stumbled a little over his words. He thanked me for working, “tiredly....tire....tirelessly” to get the children to sing well. He may have a point. I will certainly be working tiredly today.
I’d love you to come and watch me working tiredly with my orchestra, so if you fancy some free Summer music and cake please come along.
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