Okay, it's my blog, so I can brag about my kids. This Christmas season, Calvin sold his CDs and collected $780 for Feed My Starving Children. Mary sold these angel cards and collected over $700 for cousin Stacey's "Stacey's Earth Angels" account to support her battle with pancreatic cancer. That's pretty cool.
One of the packages I mailed out went to Jennie McKenna, my high school french horn teacher. For some time now she has been teaching band at the Jr. High where my mom taught and where my sister teaches--so they are all still chummy. She bought some of Mary's cards because she likes angels.
This got me to thinking about my lessons with Jennie. I'm not gonna say how long ago, but you may have forgotten that I was a four-year Iowa All-State French Horn player and that I went to NIU and UT both on french horn scholarships. Though I did eventually sell my beautiful horn to pay the bills, those years were not wasted.
Jennie taught me a lot.
She taught me to connect with students. At the beginning of each lesson she would ask how I was. How was band? How was school? How were my friends? How was Dean? And then she would listen. This all only took 45-60 seconds of the lesson, but I had another adult in my life who cared how it was going during those fragile years. Twenty years later stupid high school boys are still not appreciating smart musical beautiful high school girls--some things never change. The years are still fragile. Connect with students.
She taught me to be generous with my time. My mom wrote the check for a half hour lesson, but I can't remember a lesson that wasn't 45-60 minutes. She did what needed to be done and it wasn't about the money.
She played duets with me on her horn. I thought this was "blow-off" time--sight reading because I hadn't practiced enough. I realize now that playing duets with her allowed me to listen to her sound, her rhythm, her articulation and her phrasing. It was actually the most efficient way to learn. Listening, listening, listening.
She taught me how to prep for an audition. Honor band. All-State. College. We prepped. She would be the judge and she would go through the motions of the whole audition--pretending to be intimidating and grouchy. Asking for the hardest scale. Interrupting my cadenza. Anything to catch me off guard. I wish I still had that confidence.
She taught me that we can to hard things. Beethoven. Mozart. Strauss. All the hard stuff. She dug in.
It wasn't just the music that was hard. Sometimes life was harder. She lost a baby to sudden infant death. My mom did the tough thing and took me to the visitation where old men sobbed quietly in chairs in corners of the room. And Jennie kept going.
I think that's why she likes angels. I think that's why I like angels. She taught me that you can have your heart broken and still keep going.
On a lighter note, that was helpful when Dean left me for another girl--I did keep going too and Jennie would have cared about that. Smile.
My UT french horn teacher was a jerk. He made me cry at every lesson and ultimately drove me to quit though he had heavily recruited me to come there. He was a past Chicago Symphony guy. A big shot.
Sometimes the small town high school band teacher trumps the CSO guy for instilling a love of music. And she protected who I was.
We teach first for the love of the child, second for the love of music.
So, Jennie, thanks for the trip down memory lane, and thanks for all the lessons about music and life, and for all the love you put into your teaching. I hope you enjoy your angel cards and if Mary decides to play french horn. . . you know who I'm gonna call.
Beautifully written. So thankful to teach with Jennie.
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