Nevertheless, why stir up memories?
11:09 p.m.
I met with my union rep this morning, after Latin class, where Patsy returned our first assignment, mine totally covered in red marks. The rep is a bearded, overweight classics prof at the college who also teaches part-time for Bushop’s, gay, whose name is known well to townies because he always has a letter to the editor whenever discrimination against homosexuals rears its ugly head. I like him. He has a radio announcer’s voice, although his appearance totally belies any glamour attached to that profession. Nonetheless, he has chosen to champion the cause of the contract faculty at our university, and he is quite competent.
We discussed the scenarios I put forth here yesterday, and he agreed that I should get compensation. We came up with something that would be so perfect in its ironic implications. The first-year student wants to switch teachers, but I don’t think she’s specified which one she wants. Vlad happens to have a beginning voice student, a rank beginner, and she has agreed to make a switch if the student is willing. I happen to like teaching rank beginners. Everybody should be happy. Bwa ha ha ha ha ha! However, if a switch can’t be made, then I want to be compensated financially for my loss. My rep has even said that he would like to see this go to a grievance if need be. I don’t want that. Hopefully it won’t. But music tutors shouldn’t get pushed around. Even short ones.
I taught my remaining first-year student this afternoon. She’s really sweet, and really shy. I can tell that this is a scary thing for her, taking singing lessons. I’m trying to be gentle.
But anyway, we had a two-hour rehearsal for tomorrow’s jazz gig at this cultural gala. I’m totally beat, vocally exhausted, have a headache, but am absolutely elated. I love singing that stuff. It’s real soul food. I feel truly nourished.
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