3.24.2012

Effing kids and their effing laziness and their effing entitlement.

I feel like I've been spewing a lot of anger and bitterness on my Facebook lately in regards to my disappointment and incredulousness at some students' attitudes, so I'm re-directing it here in an effort to not appear completely vile and cynical to my colleagues that see my Facebook posts. Obviously, it's not a new thing. There are always going to be entitled kids in every new class. - And I should interject this by stating that there are also always many students who I learn to admire and gain an affection for because they show true dedication and respect for their work. - Something's different this year, though. There are just SO many bad students. Bad writing. Bad studying. Bad attitudes. And, above anything else, such unbelievably low standards for themselves.

The reason I react to it so strongly is that these are students that are supposedly going to be future professionals in the music and music education world. At least that's what they think. That they are going to join the ranks of people who have worked extremely hard - extremely hard - to be able to join a profession and field that is competitive and very unforgiving. And they did it because they also knew that the rewards - not necessarily monetary, snort - of being in music and educating younger generations about music are indescribably grand. The problem is that what their attitudes towards their education show is that they want - no, expect - to get handed this degree in four years for being utterly mediocre. Sometimes, much worse than mediocre. Piss poor. They don't practice. They don't study. They don't show up for class.

They, in one instance this past week, have their eyes glued to their laptop watching some completely unrelated video when the rest of the class is watching the DVD that I bought - with my own money, for my students - of Leonard Bernstein conducting the Vienna Philharmonic in the finale of Beethoven's triumphant Symphony No. 9 in order to usher in our section on the Romantic Era of music and when I specifically walk slowly around the perimeter of the rather large classroom to call his attention and tell him to turn off his computer, he insists that he was merely "trying to bookmark Beethoven 9 on his computer so that he could listen to it over the weekend and a pop-up ad came up that was really flashy so it looked like he was watching something else."

Bullsh*t. Sorry.

Pop-up ads take roughly .7 seconds to click and close.

As I told his applied teacher later on in the week, after I received the student's email apology and explanation, that I accepted his apology but I don't believe a word of his excuse. Why would somebody have tickets to see the Chicago Symphony perform live, and spend the entire concert glued to their cellphone watching a separate Youtube video? Nonsense.

Thanks for the message. I don't believe you. Now, do better.


I don't yell at students. And I very rarely call them out in class. But I watch them. Like a hawk. Even while I'm lecturing. And I was watching you, student. I've been watching you all semester while you paid very little attention to the material I presented to you in class. I've been watching you as you consistently fail every single quiz and exam I give because you are so ill-prepared. I watched you make zero use of the chapter readings I assigned, the power point presentations I created for every single topic, the performance videos I show, the music clips we listen to and the 20-page study guide I created that literally that outlines everything we talk about in class and that you are quizzed on. And I watched you this day as your eyes were glued to the flashing video on your computer screen while your hands made zero effort towards clicking anything closed and readjusting your eyes up to the screen at the front of the classroom. I also watched you in the previous theory and ear training classes I taught you in as well, as you displayed the same exact lack of concern for your education and attendance.

So, when you proclaim yourself to be a misunderstood martyr who was just so captivated by this piece of music all of a sudden, that you felt deeply compelled to mark something for review and for study over the weekend - which is three days away, by the way - and was brought down by one singular pesky pop-up ad, I'm going to go beyond just looking at the myriad possible explanations that could be applied to the matter at hand and I am going to conjure up all of the information that you have given me over the past several months about you and your attitude towards music and education and call bullsh*t.

And when another professor then calls you out and informs you that your performance and attitude is simply not going to be sufficient for completing this major successfully - harsh, but very factual - you continue to play the martyr.

Who are these people that are telling him he is a "great musician"? Bernstein was a great musician. The members of the Vienna Philharmonic are great musicians. Beethoven was a great musician. A kid who is sitting in the lowest band and fails all his classes yet puts zero work into his training is not a great musician. And sorry, Gina, whoever you are, that your youth director told you you couldn't be a music minister because you were fat. That has nothing to do with this kid. He can't be a professional musician because he is bad and won't listen to any of the people that are trying to help him become less bad. You know, the teachers that are trying to teach him. If he'd show up to class. pay attention and quit making excuses he would understand that.


Here's another life lesson for you, student.  There are no martyrs in music. (At least not since the Renaissance Era, probably.) 

There are people who fail, certainly. I've done that myself plenty of times. As a college student, I skipped out on classes that I thought were beneath me. None of them were music classes - at least there's that. But I didn't follow the rules, even though the rules were simply to show up, do the work that you already knew how to do and you would get your A. But the classes were lame and a waste of my time, so I would skip class and laugh and laugh in my idiocy. I laughed until the end of the semester, when I turned in my very well-done final project and the teacher informed me that she would be giving me a C for the final project because I "did more work than I needed to which shows that I was not present to listen to the directions." 

Damn.

I passed the class, but I didn't get an A like I should have. I should have. And the teacher was right. I was an idiot and I blew my shot at a 4.0 for being a moron. Lesson learned.

And then there was the time that I went in to grad school as a new teaching assistant and a performance major. It was a fairly spontaneous decision to go to grad school and my playing was out of shape from lack of practice. So when the auditions were done and seatings were posted, I was sitting last chair in the Wind Ensemble. Last chair underneath a section of undergraduates who looked at me like a joke. I don't remember much about that first semester. We took a trip to New York to play in Carnegie Hall. Where I sat last chair. I should have been at the top of the section. I should have. Besides that, I remember practicing. A lot. A lot a lot. Kept my mouth shut, swallowed my pride and practiced. So I could get my chops back. So that I could take the auditions again the next semester and get the principal chair. 

And that happened.

So, no, student. There are no martyrs. There are only people who work, fail, work harder and succeed. But you, student, will probably never learn that lesson. Sad.

ps. If our job as a teacher is "not to discourage people from being a music major," then you must ask yourself the question: What is my job as a student? Answer that question and I think you'll at least gain a little bit of perspective.

3.19.2012

Schmoobles.....

We decided we needed some Snackums to tide us over after work while we waited for dinner to cook.

Schmoobs: "Should we toast the bread or not?"
Me: "Yeah, I would."
Schmoobs: "Where?"
Me: "...In the toaster."
Schmoobs: *holds up the sourdough baguette* "How am I supposed to put this in the toaster??"

At that point, I slowly made my way to the knife drawer, pulled out the serrated bread knife, placed it gently on top of the baguette and walked away.

3.12.2012

I LOVE the Annual Breaking of the Spring!

Oh herro from the land of morning naps and Sunday night cocktails.

Just some tidbits:

Before this past Christmas break, a bunch of students were Facebooking like crazy about how much they wanted or were excited about getting these single-cup coffee brewers and I was all, "Ugh, what's the big deal? Seems silly to me." And then I went home for Christmas and tried out the Keurig my parents had and I was like, "I NEED ONE NOW NOW NOW." And then my dad saw a really good deal online several weeks ago for one and, because they are the most awesome coffee enablers parents in the universe, they gifted it to me and Schmoobles. Cut to this past weekend and Schmoobles woke up before me on Saturday. Before I could even open up my eyeballs to completion, he comes sauntering in the bedroom, bringing me a cup of coffee in bed. COFFEE IN BED! Isn't that how polar bears decide to choose their mates for life in the wild, or something? Anyway. Schmoobliedots, albeit being delightful in many other ways, had never brought me coffee in bed before in the seven (i.e. one million) years we've been together, so I squealed with delight and exclaimed, "Wow! Coffee! Why?" and he responded, "Well...because I was up. And making it is SO EASY!"

So thank you, parentals, for giving me Schmooblies 2.0 (new and improved!). 

In other news, I'm totally doing this hippie dippie Apple Cider Vinegar drink cleanse thing. Spurred on by reading this post from this blog that I enjoy tremendously. After reading the post two weeks ago, I hightailed it to our local Kroger and was able to find the super organic ACV "With Mother" (that's only a little creepy sounding) hiding in the very back of the very bottom shelf of the hippie foods aisle and have been drinking a bottle of water with about 2 tablespoons of ACV mixed in every single day. 

Honestly, I don't mind it so much since - probably because of my superior Filipino bloodline - I have an affinity for vinegary tastes anyway. But I made the mistake of opening up the cap to my vinegar-water bottle while Schmoobliez and I were carpooling to work the other day and he almost gagged from the smell. 

Oh, and there was this, when we were walking back to the car after work:

Me: "You know, I was thinking. I think that if one were to actually drink pee, this vinegar water is probably what it would taste like. ...Wanna try some?"
Schmoobs: "NO!!"

Whatever. Wuss. Anyway, I may be manifesting just what I want to see, but I could swear that I started seeing some difference after about a week. I started feeling less cloudy-headed in the morning and a slight improvement in my skin. Two weeks in now, I do think my skin is seeing continued improvement (maybe clearer, softer textured and less splotchy? I tend to have redder, more ruddy cheeks than any of my siblings for some reason. Genetic X-men mutation?) and, doggone, if I don't think my hair is a little softer, too. And yesterday, I came back from washing my hands in the restroom and:

Me: "I think I look less puffy."
Schmoobs: "Huh?"
Me: "Whenever I go to a bathroom and look in the mirror I always feel like I look kind of puffy, but I don't think I look as bloated and puffy."
Schmoobs: "Um...I never think you look puffy. But okay."
Me: "Well, I do. I think that Apple Cider Vinegar is working."
Schmoobs: "Okay."
Me: "Wanna try some?"
Schmoobs: "NO."

So I am excited to see what differences I see and feel in myself after doing this ACV regimen for a couple more months. I should say, however, that if you want to join me on this exciting vinegar pee water adventure, you MUST take heed of the universal advice to mix the vinegar in with water and not to drink it straight. For one, it will help protect your tooth enamel. But also, if you decide that you are going to be brilliant and efficient and just do a single shot of pure organic apple cider vinegar in the mornings (usually followed by a cup or two of coffee...) like I did on week one, it will only take about two days for you to lose your ability to sleep at night because your stomach will literally feel like it's on fire.

Yeah. I did that little experiment to save you the pain of learning on your own - aren't I awesome?! After three straight nights of painful stomach fires, I made the connection to my amazing idiotic vinegar-shot idea and went back to sipping the diluted vinegar-water mixture throughout the day. The stomach fires went away almost immediately. Durr. 

Pictures!

Remember when I said that I am the Draw Something master? I mean. Look at this. I'm practically Picasso.

I thought this one was pretty good too. You don't grow up in Sonoma County without innately knowing how to draw "Vineyard" on a drawing game.

Hee hee hee. I think I like this one most of all.

Oh, by the way: We bought BB a big bag of brand new doggie treats at PETCO the other day. She immediately decided she wanted nothing to do with them (bitch!). But she love love loves fresh bean sprouts!  

BEANSPROUT CHOMP.

Our favorite breakfast place in town is the Fatted Calf located in downtown Rockballz. We love them because they specialize in using natural, organic and local ingredients. But also because this is their sugar packet holder.

And this is their cream holder. Wait for it....

Hee!


We've been visiting the Plano Animal Shelter quite a bit lately. What usually happens is that Schmoobles will be trolling various dog websites on his computer (or his "Puppy Picture Device") and find a one or a few or a billion that he decides he wants and we go to whatever shelter the doggies are and visit them. We know, of course, that we have neither the space nor capability to take on any additional animals (don't even get me started on how BB and Bela react to a new animal in the house), but we can't seem to not drop by for a visit and playtime. The almost-super-sad part was when we learned that the Plano - unlike the Rockballz - Animal Shelter is not advertised as a no-kill shelter, which, of course, means that there is the distinct possibility that we will buy ALL THE DOGGIES and save them from the dreaded Youth in Asia. But we talked to the ladies at the front desk and they explained that the only animals that they put down are ones that need to for health/age reasons or those that have shown overly aggressive and dangerous behavior. For example, they have kitty cats there that they have been housing since spring of last year. So I felt better after that. And, this past Sunday afternoon, there were like 3 or 4 adoptions that happened in just the hour that we were there. Also, I donated the perfectly good brand new bag of treats that BB decided she didn't want.

Some favorites:

Coco! A miniature poodle that snatched up our heart ventricles immediately! When he came into the shelter, apparently his previous dumb dumb owners had been so negligent that his fur was extremely matted. His whole body had to be shaved down, leaving him with a perfectly round giant ball of curly gray fur for his noggin.

It's quite a charming look, don't you think?

He has eyeballs under there, I swear. And, considering I can't imagine that he actually sees much beyond the wall of fur, he is surprisingly graceful and accurate when jumping on and off laps. He's also a big fan of treats and doggie biscuits.

This little guy is one of my personal favorites. For obvious reasons, Schmoobs and I nicknamed him "Chewie." I have a soft spot for him because he is a little older and has terrible teeth (I actually don't think he has back teeth anymore...poor doggie!) so is probably not that attractive to prospective adopters. But he is a sweetheart and just needs a really good bath and shave. I played with him for a bit on Sunday and - though quite stinky - he was so cute. I think next time we go back, I'll bring him some soft treats so he can enjoy some delicacies without having to hurt his chompers.

And success story of the week! Schmoobs and I saw this little lady in the very last corner kennel at the end of a long hall looking very scared and lonely, so we asked to take her out to play. At the shelter, they have a few private windowed rooms where you can take a dog for some private play time. Once we took her in a room, this dog, Pinta, started bouncing around with energy and became very affectionate and playful. Before long, a family with two young children started lingering around the windows and making googly eyes at Pinta. Later that day, as we were leaving, one of the front desk ladies told us that that family asked to play with Pinta right after we gave her back and they adopted her right there! Hooray! So now Schmoobs and I consider ourselves "Puppy Closers."

3.03.2012

Draw Something.

It's really a shame that I was made aware of the existence of this game app because now, clearly, I will stop being productive in any sense of the word and will only spend my every waking moment playing this silly drawing and guessing game against complete strangers. Complete strangers who are hilariously AWFUL at drawing things. I mean:

"SOCCER."


"FOOTBALL." (Ooh, a European!)

I, on the other hand, am a Draw Something MASTER. Just take a look at one sample:

"PUKE."


In other news, look at what Schmoobs brought me back from his NYC trip!

Numerous coffee mugs. Does he know me or what?

Also, for no reason, because there is no reason needed for posting pics of the Cutest BB Ever: