Protest

It's a new week, which means a new crowd of rudimentary guitar students.

In this group, there is a kid who can't seem to keep a grasp on his pick, and every thirty seconds or so it slips from his fingers. I see it almost every time because he sits right in front of me, but I have learned not to make a big deal of it, because he is clearly traumatized every single time. As soon as the pick plops onto the floor, he sinks in his chair and looks from left to right to make sure no one saw the little mishap. Then he leans over oh so carefully! so as to not bump the neck of his guitar on his neighbor's head and stretches hopefully with his short fingers to the floor, where his pick is lying on the ground.

Whew! You can see the relief in his eyes when he silently scoops up the pick and carefully eases back into an upright position, althewhile being very, very stealthy and punctilious about his range of motion so the other kids don't notice.

And he ever-so-carefully sets up his G Chord or whatever we're on, and joins in, seamlessly. Not a word! Most kids would make a big stink: "Liz, we have to stop! Liz, my pick is on the floor! We can't go on!"

This kid, however, keeps it covert as possible.

Then, as quickly as he recovered his pick and set up his G Chord, plop!, there it goes again. I'm not exaggerating this time, it's really that regimented. Almost like he's experimenting with rhythm, or maybe a funky new dance move that entails throwing one's pick on the floor and picking it back up again. And the way he does it, so...quietly and lithely, it's like he's rehearsing for the Ballet of Pick Plops.

Early on, I couldn't help but comment about the pick habit. I acknowledged the behavior by laughing and saying, "Mark, it looks like you keep throwing your pick down in protest." I illustrated my point by throwing my own pick down on the ground and saying defiantly, "I do not want to learn this chord!"

The other kids laughed. Remember, it was early on in the class, and sometimes I err on the side of being a little too informal in the hopes of winning over their hearts, but poor little pick protester looked horrified. Whoops, I thought, this kid is really hard on himself. Note to self: lay off the jokes at his expense. And I quickly changed the subject and have not so much as blinked at the sound of his pick plopping ever since.

Unfortunately, the other kids think throwing down your pick in protest is really fun, and now I have three little comedians who, every time I say, "It's time to learn a new chord," mockingly slam their plastic picks on the floor and laugh and laugh. Oh dear. Another lesson learned for this teacher...

Bass Clef

Guitar Class Day Three:

It was Music Theory time, so I had everyone set down their precious guitars and listen up to the exciting, riveting fun-filled world of basic music theory. I was explaining the Bass Clef by writing down the note names of each line and space on the staff. Skinny, ADHD boy (who had not been paying attention at all until this very moment) exlaimed, "I know how to remember the spaces! It's All Cows Eat Grass!"

I nodded and said, "Yes. You could also say, All Cars Eat Gas."

Skinny Boy said, "You mean All Cars Pass Gas."

I frowned. "No, there is no note called P for Pass. It's E for Eat." I pointed at the E space.

Skinny Boy leaned back in his chair and looked around at his hardcore nine-year-old rocker friends. "It is too All Cars Pass Gas." He paused, smirking ever so slightly. "What do you think the muffler is for?"

Guitar Class Misogyny

It's the second day of Guitar Class. This week I am teaching 4th, 5th, and 6th graders, mostly a class of boys, there is one quiet girl who shyly asked if we could sing something from The Sound of Music in the midst of the boys' requests for hard rock, "shredding" (I don't even know what that is) and riffs from Guitar Hero.

These kids (save for the little Julie Andrews) are not impressed with my folk-singer's voice or my repertoire of children's songs. They want Queen, they want Iron Maiden, they want to sing songs I would be embarrassed to teach them.

One kid, a skinny, itty-bitty nine-year-old boy, who looks more like a six-year-old, raised his hand when I asked, "What kinds of songs are you interested in learning?" The itty-bitty rocker said, in his very small child voice, "Can we play 'Big-Bottomed Ladies?'"

I blinked. There was a chorus of, "Yeah," and "That's a good one!" from four other very small boys. Julie Andrews was quiet.

"I don't know that one," I said, feeling perturbed that these children seem to think it's okay to listen to a song called Big Bottom Ladies and then request that their Twenty-Something Female Guitar Teacher teach it to them. I also felt furious that such a song exists. Granted, I don't know what the song really says, but it sounds like objectification to me. Maybe we should talk about this in guitar class.

I feel like there is a huge culture gap between me and these fifth grade boys. I mean, I want to sing Joan Baez and they want to sing about women's butts and smash their guitars.

Yesterday, another kid starting ripping on Beethoven, saying his music sounds like "High School Musical high-note opera crap." For that, too, I blinked and felt perturbed, and then I took about ten minutes of classtime to talk about Beethoven and his struggles as a composer and musician. By the end of my soapbox lecture, the kids were thinking it's pretty cool to write music when you're deaf. I told them that if anyone rips on Beethoven without being able to play a piece by Beethoven, I'm going to make the executive decision that our recital is strictly classical music, so that they can all spend some time appreciating it. I did not address the "high note opera crap," but the next kid who says anything near to that is going to get a solo recital of opera arias. And, anyway, Beethoven only wrote one opera, and the main character is a mezzo who plays a gender-bending role, so I don't know what this kid is talking about.

Nor did I even attempt to redeem High School Musical crap. He may have had a point there.

So, for now, I am educating myself in the ways of hard rock. But there will be NO Smoke on the Water (unfailingly, two out of the six kids in this class walked in bragging about being able to play Smoke on the Water before they even introduced themselves to me, blah blah blah, I'm so sick of that stupid boring song I can't even tell you).

Any suggestions for hard rock songs for a classroom full of macho nine-year olds with tune-slipping acoustic guitars who are being taught by a classically-trained soprano and feminist folk-singer?