It's Guitar Class

It's almost that time of year again. You know, picks in sound holes, missing strings, Smoke on the Water? Yep, that's right, it's almost time for Guitar Class. After much deliberation and some negotiation, I have decided to take the job again. In an effort to prepare myself for the impending summer months, I am revisiting a few highlights from last year. Let me just say that these highlights, after a year of teaching multiple instruments to dedicated, privately studying, serious and committed students (except for the kid who insisted that he play "Ode to Joy" on the piano with his toes), have reminded me that there really is nothing like a classroom full of eight-to-twelve-year-olds who know nothing about guitars. Imagine the process of tuning. Imagine a soundtrack of wavering microtones beneath a subculture of Sponge Bob Square Pants, Pokemon trading cards, and avid fans of High School Musical. Imagine all of that, and then include snapping wire strings, angry parents, and suburban perfectionism in elementary school kids. What a challenge. Here are some funbits, reprised (if you will) from last summer's "It's Guitar Class" blog series:

*The kid who can't stop dropping her pick in her sound hole...it may be on purpose...she thinks it's sooooo funny....

*The time that same kid came to class complaining of a pesky pick in her guitar, and instead I found a plastic spoon. We were both dumbfounded.

*The kids who show up with missing strings.

*The kids who show up without a guitar. It's guitar class.

*The kid who showed up with a ukelele. It's guitarrrrr class.

*The kid who told me I was brave to live in Saint Paul, where all the gangs were. I misheard him and thought he said where all the gays were. Either way, it's offensive.

*The kid who informed me that a whole note plus a half note plus a quarter note equals one dollar.

*The eleven-year-old, incessantly furious boy who said, "You can't tell me what to do. You're small." Say what?

...Not to mention, the Harry Potter Obsessed Kid (she insisted that she be called J.K. Rowling), the Praise Band Recruiter Mom, the neverending requests for Green Day, the (while flattering) persistent encouragement to audition for American Idol, the older class of angsty pre-teen boys who think my guitar playing is "sick," and apparently that's a compliment, and, of course, the hot-pink Hello Kitty Wal-Mart electric guitars, or, even better, the toy guitars that aren't actually meant for study of the instrument. Oh boy. What a summer I have ahead of me....