A good day!

Beautiful weather.  French spoken and understood. Counterpoint explained.  Recital program practiced. Monks rehearsed.  COMS 101 mercifully ended early. Recital posters hung. Reporter's query answered. Dinner competently improvised.

And most importantly, I'm CLEARED for June graduation.  A good day!

Communication Science 101 and You (well, Me, actually)

Today marked the beginning of what I hope and pray is my penultimate quarter of degree study. The day began with French, which would have been fine if 1) I had reviewed last quarter's material, and 2) if I hadn't gotten one of the teachers that speaks only French in the classroom. (I switched sections today as soon as I got the chance.)

But that's not what this is about.

In order to fulfill degree requirements, I must take the class mentioned in the title of this post. (Never mind that this requirement DISAPPEARS in the Fall when the switch from quarters to semesters takes place.) I knew that this would be a large class, but didn't quite understand how B-I-G.

When I entered the large lecture hall (as far as I know, the largest at the university) I was overcome by the stifling heat in the room.  This is significant because it was darned cold outside with a brisk wind which made the contrast even sharper. I found a seat and fidgeted with my phone while waiting for class to start. More people entered the room.  And more.  Wait, there are a few more!

The professor confessed the number of students in the class.

Four hundred fifteen.

We were instructed to watch the large screens in the front of the room (hey--this could be a church!), find our names, and note our "group number." When everyone found their group numbers, all 415 of us had to get up and move to a different part of the room where our groups would be gathered. Chaos.

When the nearly-impossible was accomplished, our "group leaders" talked with each of the groups about...well...not much.  Imagine group leaders talking to their groups, in the same room, simultaneously.  I could barely tolerate it and got a terrible headache.

It is probably part of my introverted, multi-tasking personality that I take in everything that's going on around me, and am seemingly unable to filter out "noise." I'm the student who gets up to shut the classroom door when the prof doesn't do it. I'm the one who must go to an empty, quiet room to talk on the telephone.  I'm the one who stopped in the middle of wedding prelude music to tell that girl in the loft to STOP drumming her fingers. So having to listen to everything going on in that lecture hall was sensory overload, and I was exhausted by the time we were mercifully dismissed early.  But hey, it's only ten weeks, right?

In other news, the recital date has been set and is awaiting approval from a university god.

Disaster, figuratively and literally

This week I began attending an intensive two-week course at the university.  Tomorrow we devote the entire class session (4 1/2 hours) to "Gender and Sexuality" but that's a topic I prefer to neglect on this blog.

Two days ago, on the first day of class, I made the mistake of glancing at my phone when there was still an hour left in the class.  I should have followed the "no cell phone use" rule to protect myself, because I couldn't concentrate for the rest of the class after I read the following:

"There may be a problem with your recital.  It may be impossible for us to use [the location] for a while...."

Bad timing.

Two and half years ago, the university sent a team of workers in to assess repairs on the facility.  It was clear that the ceiling was starting to deteriorate.  University gods had determined that "condensation" was the problem, and they installed a terribly noisy device in a closet in the basement that would address the issue.  This thing sounded like an air compressor, which is particularly distressing to females who tend to notice annoying sounds more than men.

The ceiling issues persisted, and the building started to smell of mold and mildew.  Youngest Son would greet me at home after a practice session and declare, "You smell like [name of building]."  Yep.  I sure did.

Meanwhile, ceiling plaster started appearing on the benches and floor in the building.  Recently, some holes developed in the ceiling which caused Chinese Water Torture during a heavy rain.  I told Oldest Daughter a few weeks ago, "The ceiling is going to start falling in chunks."

And it did.

During a wedding.

All of us are now locked out of the building.  A rescue operation for music and shoes is planned.

My recital is in limbo, a HUGE issue because I was registered for the recital during Fall, and Organ Teacher told me, "Don't drop the class, I'll just give you an Incomplete!"  "Incompletes" must be given a grade during the first few weeks of the next quarter or they turn to "F." I don't have a location for the recital, and the university gods don't want to let me in the building for any length of time, including one hour for a recital.

Stay tuned.

Relief...

Just found out that I'm receiving an "A" in both of my "hard" classes--French and 16th Century Counterpoint.  Blessed relief!

Mary must graduate this June, or risk going insane.  To that end, I'm fulfilling a requirement by taking a class that meets four hours a day for two weeks, starting on Monday.  Yee ha! No rest for the weary. But then it will be done.

During Winter, I'm forced to take another class to fulfill a requirement -- Communication Science 101.  I'm nearly half a century old; do I really need it? Perhaps the department gods will waive the requirement and give me credit for life experience.

University drama continues

In my last post I gave you a humorous (to me) snippet of conversation. I didn't mention that the choir in which I sing is the "elite" university choir; still, there are challenges inherent in bring together a new group of people, including several freshman unaccustomed to the rigors of university academics, and giving a good cohesive performance.  

On the first day of rehearsal, the sopranos were asked to sing a particular passage. They were so tentative and mousy that I was truly worried about the ensemble.  The choral conductor simply said, "I expect better from you."

Fast forward to the concert.  The performance was excellent.  I was so proud (and crushed, because I couldn't sing) to be a part of that ensemble.  In fact, it was the best Fall concert I'd ever heard.  And the sopranos were on top of their game.

All was not rosy, however.

Last year, the opera director was let go, and there was word that the department would re-focus itself to include music theater.  Some people, our own music history teacher included, insist that music theater IS opera.  There is some merit to that argument, but to the common layperson, they are not the same thing.  "Serious" opera is generally based on historical or mythological themes, and "comic" or "light" opera is based on everyday, common themes.  Even Mozart wrote comic opera, but there is great artistic training and skill required to sing his works. Music theater would be included in the "light" opera category.

The new opera director included in the choral concert one number meant as an advertisement for the end-of-session opera production.  The piece was from music theater, and featured two performers.  One was from the music school, and the other was from the theater department, reflecting the new collaboration taking place.

The "advertisement" probably had the opposite effect, as there were at least 50% fewer in attendance at the opera production than there were last year.  I've always been in awe of our opera productions at the university, and could with confidence say, "I could never do that."  I simply have not the talent or skill to sing the way these students do.  (I should mention, too, that we have older students with years of experience, and it shows.)  But this time, I was embarrassed that people had actually paid money for this performance.  Again, the problem was NOT with our music students.  One shouldn't attend a show and think, "I could do better."

How is it possible that our music students were able to act better than the theater students?  One of my teachers said in passing during class one day, "What is the difference between a bachelor's degree music student and a musician with a Ph.D.?  It's the ear."  I'm struck by the wisdom of this statement.  Music students ears develop a remarkable degree during their training, and they are able to hear things unnoticed by most people.  It is my opinion that the music students were able to hear and use the cadences of the voice and the natural pauses between phrases to achieve maximum effect upon the listener.  Perhaps I'm spoiled by my high school drama teacher (R.I.P.) who was a graduate of Yale drama school, but I expected so much more from this university-level collaborative effort.

Oh, and the Spring opera production? The Threepenny Opera. Wikipedia describes it as "a Marxist critique of the capitalist world."  Just. Great.

Just one more thing--the professor that was given the "Outstanding Teacher" award last spring, and who has amazing versatile skills regarding language diction, collaborative piano, and vocal coaching?  He was let go, too.