One litte maid from school am I...

Getting so swept up in the day-to-day of teaching and school life, it dawned on me sometime today that I'm really going to be relying on this gig. During my morning run on October 15 when I received a chance call from a middle school principal, I had thought I had a skeletal consulting calendar to carry us through the school year. Enough work was going to be a nice departure from my previous state of too much work, and the additional time home would be welcomed. Since taking the teaching position several of the "enough" dates have disappeared and none have come to fill the gaps. This is all good and well for this school year, but beyond mid-June it could get interesting. Returning to the school? I can't count those chickens. It depends on a series of varied factors including the passage of the Federal budget and the fertility of the young teachers in the building. Right now, I'm doing all I can to do my "day job" well, and focusing a good deal of energy on my avocation. I'd rather spend my energy singing and tap dancing than worrying about things that are way beyond my control. And with that, it is off to an evening of Gilbert and Sullivan I go.

Diagnosed

The delightful sensation that has made me feel like my chest is on fire, and has caused alternating internal infernos and icebergs now has a name. I have been diagnosed and medicated, but I still feel like a bus hit me, then backed over me a few times. Worse still, my girl is suffering the same malaise. Nevertheless, life must march on. I'll drag my sorry heiney into school tomorrow, even if I did get winded walking to the bathroom today. I'm sure the sixth graders will have pity on me. Tomorrow night's Oliver may or may not happen. Without me, the show still goes on (and on, and on). Saturday's vocal competition is unlikely. My reduced breathing capacity makes those delightful lines in the Donaudy aria seem insurmountable. I've had it with the kvetching and self pity. I want to work, sing, and run, but this infected bag of bones has other priorities.

Happy/Sad Day

Sad Happy
My girl spiked a fever at school and her grandma had to go pick her up. She stayed there with Grandma and Grandpa until I finished my voice lesson, and we both finished a Chorale rehearsal. Happy to have Grandma and Grandpa here, and I know that they are happy to see out girl, but sad that she's feverish and blue.

Happy Sad
Teaching is hitting a rhythm and I'm managing the workload. I've even found time to practice, and I prepared three pieces for vocal juries on Saturday. My first lesson on the repertoire went pretty well. I was proud of my work, but again sad for the path not taken.

Sometimes I think I can handle only one emotion at a time, and today I had simultaneous opposite feelings. Time to lose myself in someone else's story for a few pages, and put myself to bed.

349/365 Technology Rocks

Learning new songs used to mean spending a lot of time with the English-Italian and the English-German dictionaries, fiddling my way through translations and the International Phonetic Alphabet to be sure I had proper pronunciation and translation. Enter Babylon, Google Translator, and IPA Now programs. Translations and pronunciations right under my fingertips! Now I can get back to learning notes and rhythms!

341/365 High point/Low point

5 A.M. I was treading a mill at the Y, passing the time by flipping through the channels on the built-in cardio cinema. WJCT was rebroadcasting Christmas with the Mormon Tabernacle featuring Renowned Soprano Renee Fleming. Enter low point. Madame Fleming was the protege of my first real voice teacher, and she was making her first steps toward the future she now owns when this unfortunate soprano entered said teacher's studio. Impossible to live in the shadow of her potential, I believe that there was less than an honest interest in assisting me to reach mine. So on the treadmill this morning, while listening to her perform, I was running. Running away from the woulda' coulda' shoulda's that were chasing me.

5 P.M. Voice lesson. Learning again, picking up the pieces and getting better just because I love doing it. In the hands of a professional, maybe I will finally reach that potential. Woulda' coulda' shoulda's be damned.

327/365 Just keep posting....

Sinuses ready to explode. Teaching, meeting, and rehearsing keeping me out of the house from 6 AM to 10 PM. But I have only 33 left in project 365. I got this.

311/365 And still the fat lady sings

So today our refrigerator died, one cat chewed some green ribbon and vomited, and the other chose to relocate her litter box functions (without relocating the litter box), but I'd rather focus on the good of the day.

I'm working on some new repertoire. Faure, Schubert, Handel, Mozart, Bach and I have reunited. These are presents under the Christmas tree to me, but far, far better. It takes a long time to unwrap the treasure in these, first finding the notes in my voice, then learning the dynamics and tempi, translating and learning the pronunciation of the words, to then learning the character, the story, the emotion ... each new layer like the stacking babushka dolls, while dependent on the previous they become more precious as I go. I have a dozen of these presents to unwrap, and it will take me months of work to do so. What fun!

In keeping with the operatic theme, this evening we attended a delightful night of music and laughter with the JU opera program. Their double bill of Menotti/Puccini The Telephone and Gianni Schicchi were well-sung and performed. There was uproarious laughter in the intimacy of their studio theater setting, and even our first-time opera-goer teenager could see the joy in opera well-directed and well-staged.

310/365 Grinning fool.

It's the Friday afternoon ritual. My girl is in her acting class, and I grade papers, plan lessons, and diddle on the nets in the San Marco Starbucks down the street. And today I'm smiling in Starbucks. I'm smiling over an email from my baby sister whose son loved the birthday gelt we gave him. He spent it at the book fair, and he's reading voraciously. I'm smiling about a hubby who is alive, well, and just as lovably annoying as ever. I'm smiling about a girl who seems to be making the adjustment to high school better these days. I'm smiling about a job that's fun, if a little daunting. I'm smiling because tomorrow I have a voice lesson where I think we may plan for me to learn repertoire for competitions and auditions. Busy but balancing, I can smile over my espresso.

293/365 Madonna and Me

Heading out for a K-2 Workshop, I brought some other important reading with me. A little Rick Wormeli will get me in the middle school mood. I have my spankin' new ID from school (can they use photoshop on the picture, please) and my flash drive with the start of my lesson plans. Also in my carry-on is my Chorale music and a Broadway audition piece. From traveling consultant to stationary edu-tainer. It's the Re-Invention of me (again).

292/365 New Routines to Come

So I was at school today. All day. As a teacher. Even though I'm unofficial, I figure the sooner I'm in there the better. Then I scooped up my girl at High School, and took her for an adjustment to the braces. Back at home dinner prepared by her Dad was quick and yummy. We shared laughs, stories of our days, and plans for upcoming auditions. Now my girl is onto practicing and homework. I'm catching up on business emails and blogging, then we're off to Chorale. Sure, I head out for some workshops tomorrow, but this is a preview of the day-to-day with the new job. I kinda' like it.

278/365 Resonating!

Practicing. Hour-plus butt-kicking voice lesson. Play practice with the kids at school. Chorale rehearsal. Loving it! How did I go for so many years without music in my life? I've got a bunch of work to do to get the pipes back in shape, but I'm loving the challenge. Maybe I needed a 20 year hiatus to appreciate music and to get over the coulda' woulda' shoulda' syndrome. I love and appreciate every note I have a chance to sing.

82/365 The Votes Are In

The Orange Park Chorale's new Artistic Director is Mr. Bob Moore, local musician and composer. Finding a new director was a long and confusing process, especially for this new chorale member who only had the opportunity to work with Dr. Carole Clifford, the group's founder, for one semester. Fortunately, I still have the benefit of her expertise. She's my voice teacher! And she's phenomenal. Yep. Age 42 and I'm taking lessons again. I wish she were my teacher some 20 years ago. Who knows who, where, and what I'd be if I'd had this kind of guidance and instruction when I also had my youth!

54/365 The Soprano Learns to Belt

Take off the wig and the hoop gown. Throw away the period costume. Momma can belt now. Thanks to my amazing voice teacher, Carole Clifford, I have found my inner Broadway baby. Momma can wail, all the way up to a D! Never knew I had it in me. Oh happy day!