2011 AD

It's sort of hard to think of all I want to say, but here's a start for today.

(It helps if you start with a rhyme, sometimes.)

20 Fletcher Place

            Some people say it’s your first experience, “Living on your own.” That is so far from what this feels like to me. I love my eight housemates with all my heart-I have yet to feel like I’m “On my own” in 20 Fletcher Place. And beyond my housemates I include Hilary, Shannon, and Emily, who probably just should have lived with us. Through our near-house-burning-down-experience, to making our  miniseries, to stupidly themed parties, to cleaning up after said parties, to jam sessions, to complaining about dishes, to freezing in the living room, huddled under blankets-y’all have changed me. Though I feel like we generally act like we’re fourteen, somehow-you’re helping me grow up. 

Music Education

            2011 brought in the whole flock of baby music edders, and usually they fill me with laughter-unless they are being too Froshy, (which is a word I don’t like to use but sometimes have to because it’s the only appropriate adjective.) But to all of my music ed peers, you continually inspire me to be a better person, to learn more, and to embrace music and never take it for granted. And on that note- 2011 brought me together with the trombone. We're having a lustful affair. Here I must also mention the wonderful new ensemble I've become a part of, finding yet another home away from home, Bella Voce, to all the new women I've met, thank you for all you've taught me.

Family

            We ripped up the carpet, we put in new carpet, and so it goes. We’re forever morphing and adjusting to what comes our way. I get scared when I think about what I’d do if I didn’t have you to come home to. And here I must include a tribute to my home friends, that though I get to see less than I'd like, when I do-it's as if nothing's changed. I love y'all so much.

Hospital Fair Day

Relationships ending…or at least changing

It’s hard to let people go. Sometimes fear masks itself as regret, and it tricks you into thinking you did the wrong thing. But, no regrets, right? So you either let them go, or you work to remold the friendship because they are a part of you-and to hold on to that part, you have to accept change, which can be, and usually is scary.

SPAE 2011

            And our production of “Coraline.” The most awe-inspiring year yet. The campers continue to amaze me and teach me so much. And I have never felt more a part of a team than when I work with Claire, Johnny, Melissa, Abby, and Ann.

TOAD

            Toad was my fat dog, and he died. See blog post, “Love That Dog.”

Palm Reading

            And perhaps most excitingly of 2011, I had my palm read. I’ll get married between the ages of 27 and 29, have three kids, and bring out the best in people. I’m not sure if it was worth the $25, and I don’t want to have three kids… but, there was something more than just tom-foolery and an enormous flat-screen TV with a bloody battle going on.

There are resolutions to be made, broken, and kept. Forever growing, forever changing, taking risks, finding courage and losing it. 2011 has grown me. I definitely didn’t hate it.

To all of you, The Happiest of New Years, 

and I wish you luck on finding anything you are searching for.

Dayle and Karlie Accidentally Go to Church

Tonight my mother and I accidentally went to church.

But, there is some untruth in that, because we knew we were going into a church, we just didn't quite know that it was a full on church service.
A friend invited us to go and sing carols, and since my mother has been begging me to go caroling with her since...well since the first moment that my vocal folds vibrated together, we readily agreed.

When we walked in and were handed programs, a tiny red flag went up. Even from my very brief and somewhat stunted church-going experiences, I knew that inside this program was not just a list of carols. No no, we were in for the whole sha-bang.
But, we weren't too concerned.

A younger, more sarcastic, self-righteous, and unappreciative version of myself would have had to stifle giggles and resist the urge to add idiotic commentary throughout the prayers and readings, but I don't do that anymore. I understand what religion offers to those who follow it. Cool beans.

However, this is not really my reason for writing.

There was a couple, that shall remain nameless, who had a "Musical Offering" for the evening.
When I saw this on the program my vestigial tail started waggling as it always does when I'm going to be audience to a live music performance.

Both with silvery-white hair, the man carrying a guitar and the woman carrying a stand with sheet music traipsed up the aisle and plopped themselves down in front of the congregation, (which was not overwhelming being that it was the Western portion of Dummerston, VT.) The woman explains that when choosing the evening's repertoire they found themselves in a pickle to think of tunes not already being sung by us church-goers. (I found this hard to believe as we sang only 8 Christmas Carols...and I have a pile of Bing Crosby and Barbara Streisand CDs sitting in the living room that tell me there are more than 8 Christmas Carols in this country, nonetheless the world.)
She explains that they dug out their oldest book and picked a piece by Handel.
Now, the disclaimer here is that I cannot be sure the piece was really by Handel,
as in Georg Frederich Handel.
She said it was a piece by Hand-DELL. Like Hand Bell. Emphasis on Bell. (Just say it aloud and you'll  hear how uncomfortable that is.)

Now, at this I had to stifle a laugh.
But, weird pronunciations aside, I prepared myself to hear a Christmas work by Handel.

I don't know. I just don't know. It was really... back woodsy-sit on your porch- clink your beer bottles-and sing out of the side of your mouth...y. It didn't sound like Handel, though the text seemed from the right time... but really out of place.
She kept putting her pointer finger up in the air as if teaching the congregation a lesson. I don't know.

I will say only this about their second "Offering:" there was stomping, clapping, and the couple stared into each other's eyes for the entire duration of the song.

So not an overwhelmingly inspired Christmas-in-church outing, but it was still pretty fun.

In other news...
If it's a cubed box, it shouldn't be hard to wrap, right?
Wrong. Real bad at this. Anyone wishing to offer assistance is entirely welcome.

Happy Holidays to all you Hooligans, I hope you're warm and snuggling by the fire.
Or in the case of my Burlington home, shivering and questioning whether or not you still have toes while watching a Yule Log burn on the television.

xoxo Gossip Girl.

(Can I get sued for using that?)

The Battle of Winter Break: Karlie vs. Flute

Hello.

Today begins my journey of learning to play Lowell Liebermann's Flute Concerto.
I can't really use words right now, because I just listened to the first movement and am almost ready to rip my clothes off and run through the empty music building with my flute on fire acting as a torch, lighting my way. Because that's what it's going to be like to play this piece.
Running naked, carrying a torch.

But I am not going to post a recording of the Concerto yet, (y'all are entirely capable of youtubing. Even my former high school teachers, who would say in the middle of class, "Today we're going to watch something on The Youtube,"  pronounced "You Two-Bah," and were so excited about it that their butts were practically wagging, can use Youtube on their own.)

What I am going to post is what I found in the process of looking for a recording.

I don't care how good you are. Making a film of yourself playing flute in a giant library thing with multiple different angles and washes is stupid.
There will never be a point during the viewing of this, at which the audience will not be uncomfortable.

BUT WHAT I JUST FOUND THAT IS EVEN BETTER...
Is the behind the scenes video of the making of this film.
Wow. Kudos to you Katherine Bryan. You have just livened up my Winter Break.

Yeah. It is set to Coldplay-in case you were doubting your ears.

Last Day of the Semester, Ya Ya!

For those of you that have finals tomorrow, I suggest you don't read this and continue studying, for you see, I am DONE, and am about to rejoice-and I don't want to feel guilty about rubbing it in your face. So leave this page now.
good.

Today I had my Music Technology final, which was a project in LogicPro. Mine was stupid and made fun of Twilight, yes, I went for the cheap laugh to distract from my inability to use the program. I'm working on figuring out how to upload the file so I can get a virtual cheap laugh from EVERYONE. Boost that self esteem, girl.

Then I traveled to the International Children's School, http://internationalchildrensschool.org/home (Yeah, today I found out that there's a website. Cheggit,) with my co-teachers Becky and Janice. (There was a brief and poorly written post about this from the beginning of the semester, cheggit if you want to know more about what goes on there.) Today was our presentation day. All of the parents came, (which was thrilling because you can learn a lot about a student by watching how they interact with their parents, AND because they are from all different parts of the world so the room was filled with accent gumbo.)
We decided to set up our presentation as a "regular class day," with brief explanations about why we do each activity, (keep pulse, sing in tune, move in time, cross midlines, etc,) for the parents.
It was a hit. The students were marvelous, and so excited to be performing for their families.
At the end of the presentations there was a giant potluck with foods from all over the world, and topped off with a giant cheesecake, woah.

The second part of my day was spent babysitting two sweet girls.
I need to share one moment of the evening.
The younger girl, 18 months, cried when she was left with me...(right...about that self esteem.)
But the moment that she heard a cello being played in the next room, she stopped, and just listened.

It's a powerful thing.
We're lucky to have music in our lives.
Here's something yummy to stop your tears.

Rostropovich plays the Sarabande from Bach's Cello Suite No. 1


PS: Two semesters of college left before I student teach. HOW DID THAT HAPPEN??

Lagrime mie, Barbara Strozzi


Last stanza translation:
"Still I realize that to torment me
the more, destiny
even denies me death.
If that is true then, O God,
that is only for my tears
does cruel fate thirst,
tears of mine, what holds you back?"


YOU KNOW WHAT BARBARA?
Your song is torturing me.  
Pretty soon nothing will be holding back my tears. 
SO THANK YOU VERY MUCH.
 

"Just look into my EYES!"

Good Afternoon.
I am sitting in the Redstone Dining Hall, (something I have not done since last Spring when they gave out free muffins at midnight,) trying to write an essay about the differences and evolutions of Arias and Recitatives in Operas. It's not going well for a few reasons-some of the top reasons being; My computer can't connect to UVM internet (I stole Molly's computer to write this,) it seems that I didn't take very detailed notes about Arias OR recitatives, and I am surrounded by chattering college students and dining hall food. Also, I've never been clear about the music being played in this dining hall, even back when it was "Simpson Dining Hall," (yes, for those of you that can remember that far back.)

I wanted to write about the recent lerning experience I had.
I went to a contradance in down town Burlington.

Now, I've contra-danced before...at least I thought I had. At the Governor's Institute on the Arts, http://www.giaofvt.com/, or at my highschool when a delegation of Mongolians came once a year...
but I think I was deceived.


You see, I walked in with pals equally inexperienced, and we immediately knew we were out of our league. We watched as the dancers who got there on time (woops,) spun and looped and jigged around the floor, and I saw fear spread across my pals' faces.
The dance ended and before we could make any sort of move to partner up amongst ourselves a group of long-skirted, flowy-haired women and scraggly-beard, suspender-clad men were bumbling over to us.
As in keeping with the life-long continuous joke, my partner barely came up to my shoulders, but had the power of a Clydesdale horse. The first time he swung me I was absolutely positive I was going to vomit, and am equally positive that had he let go I would have gone smashing into the gym wall. Maybe through it. As we moved down the line he tossed me around and shoved me in the right direction until I had a vague sense of where I was to go, but was often thrown off by him shouting through his wiry beard, "JUST LOOK INTO MY EYES."

The dance ended, my pals and I glommed together, and I saw my facial expression reflected on everyone else's. We had all been tossed, and shoved, and screamed at. It was going to be an interesting night.
I write with pride when I say that each and every one of us went back out there, partnering with strangers who clearly looked forward to this event, perhaps a little too much.
By the end of our evening, we each had gained some instincts about the general direction to head when our partner released us, some were even being total rockstars and spinning the experienced ladies around like nobody's business.
I was merely hanging on for dear life...but I can honestly say that I hadn't laughed that hard in a good while, and it was a marvelous de-stresser. I highly recommend at least trying contra-dancing if you're looking for something to blow your mind.
-Lessons Learned:
-Go with the flow
-Don't think
-Let someone else lead
-Be aware of everything around you
-JUST LOOK INTO HIS EYES.


And this post would not be complete without mentioning that one of the purposes for going to the contra-dance was to bring an out-of-state friend to one final Vermont experience before he goes home.
I'll miss you buddy, it's been fun.

Here's a video that is related to contra-dancing... and will make your heart race if you've seen "Becoming Jane." Maybe even if you haven't.
Enjoy.

I'd have no problem looking into James McAvoy's eyes.

"Look it's Ms. Piano."

Yes, those were the words from my piano teacher, Sylvia Parker's mouth this afternoon when I saw her hours after I passed the prestigious, "Piano Proficiency Exam." That's right. All of it.

Okay. You caught me. It's not actually prestigious, but it is dreaded by many if not all music students. There is an overwhelming fear that overtakes the body as you climb the steps to Sylvia's office. Some don't even make it up those steps, their knees just simply knock together too hard, and down they tumble. But those who make it take a seat on a shiny black bench perched outside of her door. Waiting...listening...counting breaths, desperately trying to calm their heart beats. My heart doesn't even beat that fast when I run around or jump rope or something. The door opens, Sylvia's head pops out and through giggles she says "Come on in!"
"Okay," I thought, "This will be fine."
As I followed her in and smiled at the other faculty members who'd be judging me she says to them, "Our first victim."
REALLY?
Cliché. And Rude.
But whatever, I passed. Hands shaking like a chihuahua in a snowbank on the side of I89.
(I don't know why that would ever happen.)

For myself and the other music education students passing this exam is the difference between being allowed to student teach, and being forced to change majors at the end of your second to last semester of undergrad.
So you can see why I'm pleased.

GOOD LUCK ON FINALS EVERYONE!
And Congrats to my fellow piano players.

Classic College Procrastination

I know you are all anxiously anticipating a blurb about the gallons of wisdom gained from my trombone students... I simply can't wait to spill it out to you...but this post is not going to be about that. Surprise.

As we come pummeling towards the end of the semester, I thought I'd share bits of wisdom gathered from- not necessarily those that I've been teaching- but basically anymore around me, or any situation I find myself in.
Go-Go Gadget: End of Semester
Methinks a list form is best.

• No matter how much work you do throughout the semester, the last two weeks will always, ALWAYS make you feel like you should have prepared yourself better. Just disregard that feeling because you will never, NEVER feel prepared for what you get smacked with right before those glorious weeks off in December.

• You will start to questions tasks that used to seem simple. For instance, "Why am I hole punching every lesson plan I've ever written and putting them into a binder?" Or "Why must I brush my hair?" or "My sheets seem clean... must I wash them?" or "These noodles are really taking their time in this bubbly water, I just won't eat tonight." You start to prioritize. "I will practice until I get kicked out of the music building, then I will hide under a desk in the total darkness until the security leaves...then I will practice until dawn...then I will buy all of the coffee at Dunks..."

• Which brings me to another thing that happens... your brain starts to implode. This is a bad time to go in to be evaluated for ADHD. They will absolutely diagnose you inaccurately during this time because yes, you might as well have ADHD. Your train of thought might be something like the following:

"Golly, these noodles are taking a long time to cook. I wonder if I should throw them at the wall. That's spaghetti, right? But...if it sticks is it done or does that mean it needs to bubble longer? This steam is so warm, I'd love to dive right in, this house is awful. I wonder how much heat is going to cost. I haven't purchased any Christmas presents, do I really like anyone enough to give them a present anyway? What is it about all of these people that is driving me crazy right now? I want to gauge out the eyes of the security guard who kicked me out of the music building last night. Like Oedipus. I should reread some Greek drama. I don't read enough anymore. Reading. Reading music, music...do I even like music? Should I have been a business man? Man?" And to quote Gilmore Girls, you'd end up with, "No, I make a fine woman. Monkey, Monkey, Underpants."

You can see how detrimental this can be to one's productivity. 

• Beyond the lengths of your "To Do" List, there's always the self-deprecation that begins right around this time... "Why don't I have a mate?" "Why does my hair poke out here and there?" "Why isn't my ten year old brother my best friend?"

BUT WHAT YOU MUST REALIZE...

Is that it's all nonsense. Just get through these bloody weeks, and you'll be back to normal. Don't make commitments to people, don't put anything in writing...you just can't be held accountable for your actions during these trying times.

I AM BORED EVEN WRITING THIS BUT I'M ALSO NOT BORED BUT NOW I NEED TO GO DO WORK SO I WANT TO STAY HERE BUT THAT SEEMS LIKE WORK BUT I'M COLD BLAST THIS HOUSE WHERE ARE THE NOODLES, MONKEY, MONKEY, UNDERPANTS.

It all Began with a little Bone...

Karlie teaches in a middle school-Take One.

I'm currently writing the "Final Reflection" for my Instrumental Music Methods class. This reflection is based on the private lessons I gave to three middle school trombone players. I am a flute player.
I am including the definition of flute for those of you unfamiliar with the Western European Band Instruments.
Flute: a woodwind instrument with approximately one thousand buttons, keys, spinny/rolly things, and other stuff.
Now... I'll copy and paste the definition of a trombone so you can compare and contrast.
Trombone: a brass instrument that changes pitch by yanking on some tubing. And is unaccessible to those who do not possess the proper lip muscles.


They're pretty different, huh?

Well, I was scared. I wish I knew enough adjectives to describe for you my scared face, but I don't so here, the computer equivalent is this-->  :O

I knew the only way I'd be able to teach these boys is to be able to maneuver on the instrument myself. The...beast, if you will.
So began my voyage into trombone land. Not a bad place to be, let me tell ya. First, I got myself a little inspiration, I'll share it with you, do not have worries.
Firstly, "Bonerama." Check 'em out. Now.

Next Trombone Shorty.

And J.J. Johnson.

All of a sudden, it wasn't just, "I should learn to play this so I can give a higher-quality lesson." No, now it was "I need to play this. This instrument...has been dropped onto us from God."
And as I am incredibly religious, well, obviously I knew the next stop I needed to take.

My pal started giving me lessons. It's wonderful. I'm not wonderful, and it's a painful process...but it's fun.

My students were incredible, enthusiastic, energetic, and excited about making music.
More on this to come.

International Children's Preschool

I teach music with my two pals Becky and Janice at the International Children's Preschool in Burlington. There are seven 2-4 year olds in the class from all different parts of the world. Yesterday we walked in, armed with a bag of auxiliary percussion, a giant hula hoop, and a recording of "The Carnival of Animals" by Camille Saint-Saëns (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Camille_Saint-Saëns) 
What we had not prepared our easily-excitable hearts for was that our preschoolers were celebrating Halloween early and wearing a mish-mosh of Disney princess dresses, and the boys in your standard occupation outfits, policeman, chef etc. As they walked around the room moving like fish, sharks, and sea weed to Saint-Saëns' "Aquarium," we three teachers did our best to contain our giggles. 
Our break through of the day was when the children were able to walk in a circle. While to you and I this may not seem like a difficult task, ( in fact, for my peer teachers and I it was hard to fathom why our activities were flopping,) for this age group it makes sense. Children develop motor skills based on a combination of their brain development and the experiences they have in their environment. For most of the students this is their first time in a preschool, or an organized social group. Children don't often walk in group circles at home...I don't think, and so they haven't had the experience necessary to gain the walking-in-a-circle skill. 
Our break through came in the form of duct tape.
Pieces of it on the floor. In a circle.
We made just a start on it, but next week, ohhhh man. I expect that we'll do a little, "pretend that the floor is lava and you can only step on the duct tape."
and maybe someday... we'll get special mats for the floor... maybe shaped like something exciting. 
but you know... small steps. 
literally. the children are small.
that is all, Happy Halloween!


Also, Here's "Aquarium."
Practice moving around the room in your own space like a fish, then a shark, then sea weed. 
And good luck with those circles.

Love That Dog

Love that dog
as he's walkin' down the road
I said,
Love that dog
as he's walkin' down the road
Love to call him in the morning,
Love to say, "Hey there, Toad!"

inspired by Sharon Creech's book Love that Dog

SPAE Day 4

Today, against my will, the thought crept into my mind;
I wish we were doing something lighter... something like... "The Wizard of Oz."
Those of you that know me know that I have sworn that I would NEVER do WOO with folks under 12 years old. But... "Coraline" is feeling a bit dark, under the circumstances. Our community recently suffered the tragic loss of a young woman. While our campers are holding up magnificently, I can't help but feel my stomach flip flop when we discuss the dark plot of our show.
Of course, "Coraline" has a happy ending, the child succeeds in winning back her parents AND freeing the souls of three ghost children, no small feat for a spunky little girl- but throughout the day, I wondered if it wouldn't be more appropriate to have tiny folks with helium voices singing that all will be well if you just follow a bright yellow road that's been conveniently laid out through an entire world.
Oh, Oz.
Wouldn't that be easier than dealing with a dimly lit stage, a terrible Other Mother who steals the souls of children after sewing on button eyes, while we are smothered with music that's locked in a minor key and sung only in jibberish?

I wonder.

But as I looked around at the end of the day, I was met with faces of twenty-seven strong and defiant adolescents. 

"They'll beat this," I thought. They're going to stick together, lean on each other. 

They'll make it through this. We'll make it through this.

Maybe it's great that we're doing "Coraline." Because like yesterday's quote says, Dragons can be beaten. Especially in our community. The campers will get me through this one, I'm not worried.

Leland and Gray's Summer Performing Arts Explorations, Day 3

I'm trying to write as two elderly operatic women sing about loving men and catching them in the sea. You see, I'm supposed to be transcribing music from the "Coraline" soundtrack for the summer program I'm co-directing.  It's called S.P.A.E. Yes, I know, it's a strange title. My good friend, Claire (the other co-founder) and I gave it very little thought, and were 16 and 17- so when it was suggested, we both giggled and settled upon it at once. But the acronym does stand for something worthwhile, Summer Performing Arts Explorations.  A two-week program for kids entering 5th through 8th grades in our former school district, where we do just that- explore the performing arts. We act, sing, dance, create sets and costumes, learn about lighting and make up design, as well as learn to build some community! This is our fourth summer. Let me just say that the program has grown considerably, but also morphed and as if having been put in a rock tumbler, has smoothed out some of its jagged and rough spots. We've worked hard to bring the program to where it is today...and we're rather proud. Check out our new and in progress website Leland and Gray SPAE But this is just one venue where I work with those younger than I, and I thought it'd be a great one to focus on at first, to collect all of the lessons that I am continuously taught by these tiny and wise human beans.

So, for today, I will give one quick lesson.

Emma Urbaska, a 12 year old who's attending her third year of SPAE was embarking in a round of "Freeze," an improv game where two people work together to create a scene, then someone freezes them, takes one person out, assumes their position and changes the scene entirely.

Emma jumped in as an elderly person asking for assistance crossing the street.

She stated:

"Back in my day I didn't have arthritis!"
Makes sense. Thank you Ms. Urbaska.

Here are some pictures of our production of "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" last year.

and I will leave you with a quote from the inside cover of Coraline, by Neil Gaiman.

"Fairy tales are more than true; not because they tell us that dragons exist; but because they tells us that dragons can be beaten." -G.K. Chesterton