Musing on Music

As I was chopping onions for dinner tonight, I suddenly realized that I've been taking guitar lessons for 5 years!! I began my lessons shortly after November 2, 2004, and they carried me (just barely) through the despair of BushCo's second term. Although sometimes I am crippled by an overwhelming sense of "I'll never be any good!", I am still plugging away. When I tally up the things that bring me joy in my life, playing guitar is in the top 5. When I play regularly, miraculously, I can hear myself improving. (I need a post-it note on my computer that says, "Before you log in, have you played your guitar today?")

The guitar that I play was a Christmas gift from my dear husband a few years ago. He blindfolded me and drove me to the guitar store. Silly man, he should have remembered that I can read his mind, so I actually had a very good inkling of where we were heading and why. I love the guitar, but even more I loved (and continue to love) the affirmation of me as a musician.

If you have any inclination to learn an instrument, to pick up an instrument that you once played, or to make music of any sort (such as singing) I urge you to do so. Music should be participatory.

P.S. Guitar Hero doesn't count.

Makin' a List and Checkin' It Twice.

Out at recess this morning with all of the Kinders and First Graders. My colleague came over to inform me that she had just called the office to report some inappropriate graffiti on the climbing structure. "Guess what it says," she said. "Um, f*ck something?" was my guess. (We are right down the street from the high school, after all, and often find interesting, um er, artifacts on our playground.) "No, worse!" she said. "It says Santa doesn't exist."

The bastards! They're targeting an elementary school population … does that qualify as a hate crime?

I'm still here.

I haven't had much energy or inspiration for a blog post recently. The school year has taken off like a runaway train and I'm holding on for dear life. I'm bummed out about health care, bummed out about the "surge" in Afghanistan, bummed out that this presidential administration is as beholden to the banks and corporations as all the others that came before (but did I expect any different?)

Oh yeah, and especially bummed out that my state legislature is buying into Obama's carrot & stick approach to education reform -- particularly because in Wisconsin the government has not paid its fair share of special education costs in at least 25 years and for the past 16 years we have suffered under horribly regressive revenue caps that limited what a district could raise through property taxes. (The taxes of homeowners have gone up astronomically, while businesses carry an infinitesimal percentage of the tax burden. And whose fault is that? You got it -- THE DAMNED TEACHERS!!)

We've finally gotten an Assembly controlled by Democrats (not to mention our national Congress and President) and the solution is … punish the damned teachers!!! It is extremely disheartening when I know how hard I -- and my colleagues -- work and how much we make due with so little. I'm kind of sick of being cast in the role of pariah, the blight on public education.

Okay, I know that this administration has big fish to fry what with mopping up the mess left by their predecessors (nice mixed metaphors, eh?) but it gets my goat that they are taking the politically expedient, blame teachers route when it comes to education. It's the path of least resistance, and requires no work, no imagination, and best of all … no money. Business as usual here in Education-land.

Maybe we could have a little accountability for our elected officials, hmmm? Sorry, Mr. Obama, you haven't met AYP in keeping your campaign promises. Nor you, Governor "I'm married to a teacher" Doyle. (Sleeps with one, screws the rest.) I think it's time to impose sanctions.

Sigh. But hey, it's Wednesday and we're over the hump! Thanksgiving approaches, maybe a chance to have a blogger meet-up next week. That will be fun. So from my house to yours, have a good rest of the week.