Cold enough to turn off the air conditioner we had on for one short day! The system lever is on Off, so the furnace won’t be on soon, sadly. Excepting one day this week there has been little sign of spring. Even the flowers are shivering, and the weeds know it’s too cold to work in the garden.
Tom and I went to Laura’s Wednesday Friday Band concert last night. There are eighty two children playing in this band, and an equal number in the Tuesday Thursday Band. They are all fifth graders, the first grade level that offers band in the school system.
At the end of their last concert in January, their director explained the group had played the same note to the same timing and tempo throughout. They did a great job, and if we liked that, just wait until they worked even harder to present their May concert.
The children delivered what he promised. They began with Old MacDonald had a Band, in several part harmony and finished with the band director’s arrangement of Imagine Dragons, “because we don’t like sharps.” All the band grinned as Mr. Barrett made the explanation, so apparently there were no sharps in his arrangement. I have no idea. In between we heard Manitoba March, (because every band concert should have a march), Snap, Crackle and Bop (which we at home know by heart), Carnival of Venice, and some ensemble performances.
I was quite pleased with two things about the concert. First, the level of discipline reached by so many children in four months. They were good in January, but much better in May. I especially liked watching the children go from watchful attentiveness when Mr. Barrett stood next to the podium, to straight backed attention when he mounted the platform. He raised his arms, they began. Eyes moved between the music and the director.
And I was very happy with the temperature in the gym. Warm. There were murmurs of discontent all around before the concert commenced. Mr. Barrett apologized, saying he asked twice for the temperature to be reduced—even before the school day ended. “So, I guess you see where I fall in the hierarchy.” But no one fell asleep, the concert was excellent, and I was warm as toast, with my jacket on.
Our trumpeter, eyes on the director.
Our little trumpeter, the concert is over!