Sort of.
I have a choir of 80+ kids. At the beginning of the year we had 60 uniforms. The boys had tux pants, tux shirts and tartan plaid cummerbunds and bowties, circa 1992. The girls wore tuxedo skirts (think casino waitress) with tux shirts and the same cummerbunds and bowties.
I know that plaid was a hot thing back then. (I had my own very-plaid phase thanks to one Ed Burns [insert swoon]) But cummerbunds and bowties? Really? Our school doesn't even have Scotch/Irish roots. At all. I can only guess they liked them because it had our school colors or black and red. But we all ended up looking like cater-waiters.
Believe it or not, I actually tried to find more cummerbunds and bowties in that pattern and thought of getting 20 more sets. They are not, however, mass-producing that pattern anymore. One company offered to recreate the pattern at $50/set.
I realized that if I'm spending that kind of money, we should get new uniforms. So we've slowly been putting the girls in real dresses and the boys in neckties and vests. So now we'll look more like a bridal party. Much happier than sad cater-waiters.
Yesterday was a huge concert at our school. It involved my audition choir, the H.S. audition choir and all the 6th graders that will come to our school next year (about 150.) And I was in charge of coordinating all their comings and goings from getting on the stage, to seats in the auditorium and the transitions in between.
Here's a quick run-down of my afternoon yesterday after I was done teaching:
Double check programs for errors.
Print and fold 400 programs (with the help of students)
Clean the 1000 seat auditorium (not enough janitors. Budget cuts)
Reset the stage lights.
Change some bulbs.
Program the light board.
Teach student how to run the light board.
Check sound system. (it's not working, someone's been messing with the buttons.)
Change microphone batteries.
Get video camera.
Set up video camera.
Set up audio recording equipment.
Post signs where everyone should be going.
Recheck that auditorium is ready.
Set up tables for bake sale.
Go home, walk the dog, get tux.
Back to school, have students polish piano.
Assign students to be door guards (big pet peeve: entering the auditorium during a song.
Count cash box for bake sale, give to parents.
Get out pearls and neck-ties.
Students arriving.
Make sure they're checking-in.
Check to make sure no bangs are in the eyes.
Make one girl cry because she thinks her bangs pulled back make her look "so ugly."
Uniform emergency: The built in self-adjusters on a boys pants are broken and his pants won't stay on. Find another pair. They're unhemmed. Hem with staples.
Check pearls. Check ties.
Warm-up the choir.
Send liasons to tell H.S. and 6th graders to go to seats in auditorium.
Line up choir and take to auditorium.
Shut doors.
Cue lights.
Show's on.
The whole thing actually goes on without a hitch. The hours of planning the coordination of everyone (Keeping 5 different elementaries on the same page) actually paid off. While it's not like a D-Day invasion, I can only imagine that the generals had about the same feeling when their plans worked.
I'll note here, however, that 90% of what actually took place yesterday was nowhere to be found in any "methods" courses in college. I still argue that every music ed degree should only be conferred once a student has demonstrated proficiency in:
Riser repair
Sound system purchase, installation, repair and maintenance
Lighting system purchase, installation, repair and maintenance
Program writing and printing
Fund-raising organization and implementation
Budget organizing
Music purchasing
Field-trip planning and implementation
Massive concert organization and implementation
The things I learned in methods classes, mainly, how to teach music and direct a choir, take up less than 50% of my time.
In any case, I could feel a cold coming on. The sick poop told me so. (you all know exactly what I mean.)
So I'm taking a sick day today and snuggling with Oliver on the couch. He's a perfect cuddler.
