I think I know why they call it a recorder
Posted
November 19, 2007 at
10:23 am by
Jessica
For me, the 4th grade was fairly uneventful. It felt to me what being the middle child might feel like — nondescript, confusing, awkward, boring, a teacher that I couldn’t stand and a bully that taunted me. One thing that does stand out though, the day I got my recorder. It was an instrument in which I dreamed that I had control over, that I could be taught to play beautiful notes on and my family members would sit around a fire while I played melodies that lulled them to sleep. It was so beautiful. So…beige-y. So new. I believe it actually glowed and little sparkles could be seen from its edges. Well, it didn’t happen. It wasn’t beautiful, I couldn’t make it sound beautiful and it always retained spit in the plastic nooks and crannies that would make my skin crawl. Truth be told, I’ve never heard anybody play it well. The music teacher was always busting our balls that we didn’t practice enough and after a while, it became more of a chore in which there was no reward. I gave up on it shortly afterwards and my recorder dreams were destroyed.
I have to admit however, when my older son brought home the form asking for a $5 fee in order to get his own 4th grade recorder, it brought back memories. I felt all warm and cozy to think that the tradition was living on. I knew that my son would look at his shiny new recorder and fall in love with it until reality set in.
He brought it home and his little brother loved it/wanted it so much, I made a run to Target to get him his own recorder too. The two played in unison. In ear piercing, nails on a chalkboard, screeching tires, screaming baby, drilling, and toilet plunging sort of way. It was horrible and then my older son proceeded to follow us around the house for days, like he was the Pied Piper or something, playing it like a whistle — the kind of whistle that makes puppies cry. Now I know why they call it a recorder — because you just can’t get that high pitched sound out of your head.
The charm is lost. I hate the recorder. I’ll bet my mom hated the recorder too. After the 4th grade recital, it shall be given a proper dirt burial.
Tags: 4th-grade, band, Education, instrument, recital, recorder, school |
3 Responses to “I think I know why they call it a recorder”
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1. Cara said:
November 19, 2007 @ 4:59 pm
The little girl across the street must be in 4th grade too because she’s been playing one nonstop for a few days. The weather’s been so nice here in Austin that we’ve had the windows open a lot and I can hear that damn recorder from across the street. Gah!
2. julymom said:
November 19, 2007 @ 7:09 pm
Bwahahahahaha! That is hilarious! Ah, the joys of parenting. Maybe they can have a recital for the entire family at Thanksgiving. Remind me how I laughed at you when MY son is in the 4th grade and following me around with a recorder.
3. Rita said:
November 19, 2007 @ 8:49 pm
Yeah, we’ve got recorders in the house and they seem to breed and call in the night to sleeping Liz, who finds them at the bottom of toy boxes and makes horrible noises come out of them. I hide them (because for some reason I just can’t bring myself to throw them away), but they’re found again and again.