A bactrian day
8:16 p.m.
As I was heading out the door to go to the university (early, I might add) I suddenly remembered that it was Wednesday, the day of garbage and recycling pickup. This necessitated a quick run around the house with a green garbage bag, emptying garbage cans thereinto, and sorting the paper from the other recyclables, depositing all of the above on the curb, and then getting back into the car and heading off to the land of the lectern. I was no longer early.
My baritone is sick. Why, oh why, in the last weeks of classes, when I can ill afford to spread lessons out any more, do they get sick? Under normal circumstances I would have sent him away, but today we slogged through his hour, which proved to be torturous for us both (him probably more than me) as I made him repeat and correct and try to get his Faur� in tune and his phrases legato. It was not a good lesson. My tiny soprano who followed, though, had an excellent lesson, which vindicated all my efforts with her over the past several months.
When she first came to me, this miniscule person (she is smaller than I am, which makes me feel enormous) had a huge voice, extremely controlled, very tight, bottom heavy and inflexible. She was 18. Somewhere along the line, she had started studying opera much too young, and had developed the classic �operatic� sound. I recognized immediately that she had a fabulous voice under all this garbage, but was so encumbered we could not hear it for what it really was. The first few months were a struggle. She didn�t know what I wanted, I didn�t know how to get my concepts across to her, and she was not happy about the idea of changing how she sang. But she was aware that there was a lot of tension in her voice. Today about 95% of that tension has dropped away. The sound is freer, more appropriate to her physical age (this is important, especially with young singers) and she admits herself that it is much easier than it used to be. I am thrilled. She is thrilled. This is why I teach singing, pure and simple.
After this wonderful session, I got some lunch at the cafeteria and took my coffee outside where I sat in the sunshine on a bench across from the theatre steps, facing the fine arts building, on a mound which was chewed up during the winter by some excavation or other. It was such a pleasure to be able to do that after our long, long winter. Most people�s lawns are mostly bare of snow now; no crocuses in our yard yet. The river seems to have receded a bit, which is good. Floods can cause a lot of damage here.
At 4:00 p.m. Hubby and I headed over to the faculty lounge where a party was held to honour the output of researchers at our university. Several books have been published in various disciplines, including one by our music department musicologist colleague, and Hubby�s recent CDs were honoured (especially the one that just walked away with two music industry awards). There was an admirable spread of cheeses, crackers, veggies and fruit. We loaded up and called it supper. At 5:30 we headed across campus to the art gallery where the graduating fine arts class was having its vernissage and the annual magazine called The Mitre was launched. One of my short stories was published in it, as well as a drawing by Little Princess and a couple of poems by her new boyfriend.
The Volvo will still not start. I don�t know why I keep trying. I noticed a Volkswagon Jetta on campus with a �for sale� sign in the window. It looks like it�s in pretty good condition. Perhaps I should investigate further.
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