The Chihuahua Symphony (as Conducted by Dracula) - i of iii

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The Chihuahua Symphony (as Conducted by Dracula) - i of iii


A tale of a crazy teacher, four yippy dogs, and my artistic beginnings

Fabrication quotient: 1 of 10
Exaggeration quotient: 2 of 10
                                                                                                                         


Once upon a time,

There was a boy who may or may not have been me.

When you were in elementary school - music class was the WORST.  Everyone hated going to music.  You would march to the classroom in a single file, sit in these chairs that were super uncomfortable, and Mrs. J - who was probably the meanest woman you had ever met at that age - would make you read books filled with pictures of quarter notes, half notes, and other colorless pictures designating the rhythms to such childhood hits as "Old MacDonald".  Mrs. Judkins would also make you sit in silence for indeterminate amounts of time, and would pull a "bad card" from her little mini file cabinet of students if you tipped back in your chair.  I remember this because if you had a bad card pulled, she would AUTOMATICALLY send you to the principal's office.  I always thought she punished kids that didn't deserve it. 

I, however, loved to sing, and for this,  Mrs. J adored me, thanks to my golden vocals and blonde-haired brown noser tendencies.  "I just LOVE 'The Music Man' and 'Annie', Mrs. J.  Can we watch them again?"

She loved me so much, I tipped in my chair all the time and never got sent to the office.
                                                                                                                         





You see, music class was in many ways a required choir class, so every kid would have to sing in class and also sing in the concerts that happened once a semester.  We would sing such top 40 hits as "Christmas Around the World" (a medley of "The Dreidel Song" and "Feliz Navidad").  To add insult to injury, there was always an assembly day where each of the five grades at TE Elementary would perform for each other as practice for the concert.  When a grade was summoned to the stage, everyone would do these "group moans" of despair.  I, of course, conformed to the standard, but secretly, was so excited to get up there and start singing.

I was a big conformer.  I would conform to no end to feel loved in elementary school. Don't judge. You would too, if you were made fun of CONSTANTLY.  My name, to almost 60% of the school population, was "the cow", due to my dramatic, neurotic, panicky, nature - a la the saying "don't have a cow".  Even my teachers would make fun of me.  I once complained to a teacher about the problem, and she told me that she would take care of it.  Twenty minutes later, during English class, she had me read a sentence from the textbook: "The milk from cows is very nutritious". E-v-e-r-y-o-n-e laughed.  She did this about an hour after I had complained to her about the kids calling me "cow".  I laughed with them, then asked to go to the bathroom, where I cried for probably an hour.

So, in third grade, we were allowed to stop taking music class, and start playing instruments.  This was SUPER cool, because if you did this, you got to stop taking music class and instead, do instrument class.  In third grade, you could pick up the violin, viola, cello, or string bass and start playing in the string orchestra.

This is how I met Mr. McC.
                                                                                                                         


Mr. McC founded the string orchestra program at my school district.  A highly practiced professional performer in both the viola and the violin, he not only taught me how to play the violin and ignited my artistic transformation, but was (and still is) one of the craziest and most eccentric people I have met in my entire life.

As one man trying to run a program across five schools (four elementary schools, and the high school), Mr. McC stretched himself very thin.  Thusly, his schedule was very tightly packed, and he always seemed to be losing his mind.  Some days, he would brush his teeth in the middle of our lessons, and rinse in the classroom sink using an empty pickle jar that just...kept around.  His hair was short, reddish-brown, and curly, very Jewish mini-fro looking (although he was Irish Catholic), he constantly smelled of rosin (a material string players use to make their bows sticky, as to encourage deeper sounds when moving them over the strings), and he lived with his mother (whom he took care of) and four chihuahuas (more on that in part ii).

I enjoyed playing the violin (almost a fourth as much as I enjoyed not being in Mrs. J's class), but what I really wanted to play was the saxophone.  I thought it was the coolest instrument ever after I watched this feature on "Sesame Street" (which, along with the "Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers, I shamelessly watched until well after it was considered uncool to do so).  In 4th grade, you could start playing wind instruments.  I was so pumped.  Half of my string orchestra friends planned on quitting to join the band too.  I was gonna be a star saxophonist.

Until I told Mr. McC.

"Please don't quit...you're so good at the violin," he told me.  (No one EVER told me I was good at ANYTHING extracurricular in school, so this was a big deal.)  He continued, "Your class has so much talent, and it'd be such a shame for you to leave now."

This was not an exaggeration.  My class was the first in my district's history to have multiple people in honors festivals, and the first to send any string player to All-State Orchestra (and we had two that got in (I was not one of them).

So, I gave in, and promised him I'd stick by it.  I soon started taking private lessons from Mr. McC, and practicing often.

It was at these lessons where I met Chico, Pauloma, Bonita, and Tzigane.
                                                                                                                         


To be continued, readers.  Vote in poll!  Follow Storyblog!  Me caveman!