Burr!
1:46 p.m.
You see, thinking that I would save time, I parked at the university where I had to return to teach a lesson, and crossed the lawn in front of the main administration building. Instead of climbing up the hill where the grass is all worn to the sidewalk, I took the less-traveled route under the bridge and scrambled up over the rocks to get to the opposite side of the road. This turned out to be a mistake, as I discovered once I had hopped the guard rail that my skirt and stockings were a mass of burrs. I stopped on the bridge, picking burrs out of my legs and skirt, getting wolf whistles from passing motorists, and then hurried on to the traffic lights where I met Ed as he was getting ready to cross the street to the restaurant. Phò ensued, accompanied by conversation, followed by tea. Very pleasant, except for the stinging and itching sensation in my legs.
My student got a bawling out because she hadn’t shown last week. She was contrite. I’m afraid this is one of those girls who think that they’re too good to take singing lessons. I ask her to sing outside her comfort zone and she won’t saying that it’s too high, even though it is plainly not. She’s extremely stubborn. We shall see how this shapes up.
When I told Hubby about this over garden burgers at the Lion last night, he said that maybe I should just give her songs to sing and be done with it. But that is not what I do. I teach people how to play their instruments better. I’m a singing teacher, not a song teacher. If I had a class with 15 people in it and they were all required to practise particular exercises daily and then apply the teachings learned in class to a song assigned them, and if one of those people didn’t like the song, or didn’t practise the exercises, or refused to do what she/he was told, then that person would fail. So why do I have to tailor my teaching to individuals who are not willing to learn? I’m not expecting an answer to this question. But this plagues my interaction with students a lot.
Anyway, Hubby has gone to a town south-west of here for the day, to rehearse and to play a gig tonight at a music festival with his trio, accompanying another singer (she got them the gig) and I am left alone for the entire day. I spent a goodly portion of time in a hot bath with bubbles, reading science-fiction. As I was scrubbing myself with the loofah, I noticed red spots all over my legs and realized that these are the legacy of my stroll through the burrs yesterday. No wonder I was so uncomfortable during lunch. Each pin prick in my flesh is slightly inflamed, so the burr must carry a little bit of poison in its hooks. It reminds me of the time I dug up a couple of juniper bushes without protecting my arms. But that’s another story.
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