Hot Cross Recorder
“Thought I should let you know, I’m failing Recorder…the only one who can’t do ‘Hot Cross Buns.’”
My mind raced. Recorder–some sort of online speed spelling bee? Yet another homework checklist organizer?
(I haven’t begun to discuss the adjustments we’ve made during our transformation from homeschooling to public school, but this is a grand example.)
Joseph continued, patiently, “When you achieve your goal, they tie a tiny white string to the end of it and then everyone knows you are a White Belt.”
I reel. What are we tying a string to, and what’s this about a white belt because the last time I checked, nobody has done Karate since kindergarten.
“Mom,” he drones in that just-turned-ten kind of voice, “That blue plastic thing Grandad bought me from Target when he was trying to find all the school supplies because you hadn’t moved here yet. That’s the recorder and we play it for music class.”
He continued to regale on the “fancy” Japanese recorders brandished by all classmates other than a suffering fellow called “Henry” who was left to languish with an older brother’s cast-off gray recorder which was, in Joseph’s astute estimation, “more cheap” than his own blue Target option and smelled of apple sauce.
“Do you think it’s bad that I’m the only one in the Fourth Grade who can’t play ‘Hot Cross Buns?’” he asked, semi-concerned, “Because Mr. A told me today after I tried to play it that I needed a lot more practice. I mean he said a lot more practice, Mom.”
“I didn’t even know you were playing any musical instruments at all. How long have you been working on this recorder anyway?” I ask, the panic settling in.
“Eight weeks or so I guess. Most people are on, like, song number 10, somethin’ ’bout some saints marching.”
This doesn’t sounds good. This sounds like an “N” in music.
So cut to Friday afternoon. See what I found in his backpack?
Yep.
I am so proud of my white belt.
Now we are off to master “Merrily We Roll Along.”
9 Comments to “Hot Cross Recorder”