The authoress longs to be disconnected.
7:20 p.m.
I finally got my students� marks done this morning. This entails making up comments and assigning a grade which counts for 15% of their final mark next spring. I find this exercise very frustrating, as it is a totally subjective assessment based solely on whether or not I feel they have improved under my tutelage. This means that a student who has never had a singing lesson in her life but gets to the point where she can sing three or four simple songs on her jury rather well will actually receive a good grade. A student who comes into the program at an advanced level who does no work and pulls off a respectable jury due to talent, not trial, will not get as good a grade. The student who comes in at a high level, goes to all her lessons, pays attention to the teacher, is not afraid to try new things, and is a joy to teach, will do supremely well; and then there are those who come into the program and figure that they are already wonderful, do not show up for or are late for lessons, argue with the teacher about technique, etc. They do badly. I handed out a 65% when I really would have liked to make it a failure. But I am giving this girl the benefit of the doubt; hopefully renewed good health will also improve her attitude. I also gave someone an 85%. She deserved it.
Then, after a lengthy conversation with my mother and a quick lunch of crackers and hummus, I headed out in the Elganmobile to buy coffee, parking in the municipal lot aptly named �La Grenouill�re� which, for you non-francophones out there, means �The Frog Pond� or something like that. Perhaps there was an amphibian-infested marsh at that location in the deep dark past before the steel and concrete of the city took over their habitat. There is a tunnel leading out of the parking lot underneath one of the buildings adjacent to the coffee store, and I had to pass through a cloud of cigarette smoke as the bakery-chef interns were feeding their habit in the freezing cold air. Die hards. Literally. On my way back I passed through another cloud, this time the discharge from the store I had just been in as the scent of hot roasted coffee wafted out the back of the building.
Back to L�ville, this time to pick up my copies of BIack Cat TaIes VI, in which I am a published authoress for the second year in a row. I had submitted four items to Janice, but only three got into the booklet. Oh well. Them�s the breaks. Janice, however, was not there when I arrived, so I went next door to the Java to have a cup of something hot to wrap my frozen fingers around and ended up ordering a latt� in a bowl. Mary, the serving wench, had made a beautiful design on the top with the steamed milk, cinnamon and a toothpick. As I was admiring her handiwork, Rosemary C. came into the caf�, a woman I had met in the writing group last year, and she joined me as she was waiting for her husband to join her, which he eventually did. These people, by the way, are the parents of the young man who is the star of the television show Ed (I kid you not). I enjoyed my conversation with these good people so much that it was 3:30 p.m. before I paid my bill and headed back into the bookstore, this time finding Janice behind her counter, and running into Suzanne, a wonderful woman who works in the writing centre at the university. I spent another half-hour in conversation with these fine folks before I realized time was a-wasting and I still hadn�t handed my marks in or left a package of music for one of my students in the student mailboxes.
As a result, I have not yet copied a note of music today. Provided I do not get sucked into the maelstrom of the internet again this evening, I should be able to fire up the Quadra and get a page or two done. Maybe that�s all I need to do to break myself of this time-consuming habit I�ve picked up. (How ironic! Just as I typed those last words, an email arrived notifying me of a note from my good friend coldandgray as follows: Oh wise El, I hope you never limit your Internet use! Keep the CONNECTION!) I�m out of here folks!
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