And the Lord taketh away.
Blessed be the name of the Lord.
I received word recently that a dear and delighted and devoted student is going to be making some changes. I applaud his decision and his bravery and his clarity in this important life change. He’s incredibly centered and self-aware, and I have no doubt he’s doing a right thing.
But my own bittersweet sense of loss is pretty strong too.
The price one pays for teaching and sharing and coaching is that the students learn to make their own decisions. That price includes the sadness when a student leaves, or a cherished kid graduates, or when life leads elsewhere. The payoff, of course, is the joy in teaching and the thrill of making discoveries together, and the peace that pervades when good teaching and good learning meet and embrace.
In all these cases, right is right. I rejoice in that.
And now the world is right, and true.
But I shall miss this kid.
An addendum to last week’s posting . . . .
Here’s a photo of the pie just prior to baking:
Here’s what I found parked in front of my house tonight when I arrived home from work:
If this isn’t gone when I arrive home on Wednesday evening, I shall be phoning the authorities. Since I know someone in the City Complaint Department, I am hoping this will be helpful.
The Webster University Department of Music launched a new website today.
This is the result of several years of design and publishing work by the Global Marketing team, then several weeks of migrating, re-writing, new writing, uploading, editing, and such from me to get the Department of Music site ready to go.
It’s a work in progress, of course, and not fully populated yet, but it’s up! And for a while, my evenings are mine again.
After setting three Sara Teasdale poems this weekend, for voice and oboe, I am even more in love with this poet. Her simplicity and directness is so eloquent.
Love entered in my heart one day,
A sad, unwelcome guest;
But when he begged that he might stay,
I let him wait and rest.
He broke my sleep with sorrowing,
And shook my dreams with tears,
And when my heart was fain to sing,
He stilled its joy with fears.
But now that he has gone his way,
I miss the old sweet pain,
And sometimes in the night I pray
That he may come again.
One evening back in October, I had, upon arriving home, spoken a long voice memo into my iPhone, recapping things I’d thought of on the short drive from school.
Thinking I had hit the red stop button, I set the phone down on the kitchen table. And I proceeded to have a conversation with Samson the Feist whilst unloading the dishwasher and cleaning the kitchen sink.
Samson was certainly voluble. And the phone was still recording.
This may also incriminate me, but it’s too fun not to share, so share I will.
Listen and enjoy!