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...