While I used to scorn the tsotchke gifts (the music note mugs, the poorly-drawn violin print blouses, the violin-playing mouse Christmas ornaments), I now actively covet those special trinkets held by teachers that manage to weasel out such gratitude from (the parents of) their students. Tonight, my friends, I had all three (3) of my students not show up to their lessons (no cancel, no call, no answering my call, no nada). These students are adults, and why is it, it plagues me, that these adults cannot keep their schedules? And more importantly, why do I feel like a failure because of it? At any rate, my dear students, I love you, place you on the highest pedestal, and am eternally grateful that you would consider me for a teacher, but if someone else comes along and wants your Thursday lesson time... you've forfeited your seniority and priority. Sorry.
July 2008 Archives
I just ate a nectarine that was juicy enough to merit a shower. Mmm!
Tonight after the summer camp faculty recital, I saw my first lightning bug of the season. It pleased me so very much. It also made me wonder a bit about myself that one well-placed bug can either end/make-all-right-with the world.
I've been working full-time, freelancing for weddings mostly, teaching 3 (now 4!) violin students a week, practicing, and trying to sleep. But, the studio grows, and I am optimistic about its development, and my consequent employment.
Every day at lunch, I leave my building immediately. I head to the beach and either walk up and down the park paths, or sunbathe on the rocks near the lake. Today's highlights were: One (1) wandering black collie, a jewel-toned rainbow sail boat, a light breeze, and the bluest, bluest lake water I've ever seen. Today, I fantasized that I was on vacation in Florida, rather than on lunch break in the Midwest. That, dearies, is what we call an over-active imagination.
Over and out.
PS. I do still really, really want to write about Japan.
