Bear’s been pretty active in after school clubs this year, so our schedule’s been hopping. The fall was somewhat balanced, but by January she was staying two afternoons a week for percussion and Friday afternoons for STEM (Science Technology Engineering and Math) club.
Busy, busy, busy.
Which I like. Because it’s all stuff she likes. And that’s a good thing.
But this percussion group has brought me to an epic parenting dilemma, one that has me scratching my head and desperately searching for an escape hatch.
I know, I know…this seems to run directly counter to my whole “music feeds the soul” attitude. I still believe in the beauty of tunes, I truly do.
But what they’re asking us to do next is just…yikes.
The percussion group will be playing at the first grade performance of Puss ‘N Boots in a few weeks. The percussion ensemble itself is remarkably talented; it’s pretty amazing what our music teacher can do with twenty third, fourth, and fifth grade students, so I genuinely love listening to them play.
But watching six- and seven-year-olds mumble their way through songs in the musical? Or wander around stage, muttering lines inaudibly and gawking at their parents? Ummm…not so much.
One of the benefits of having older elementary children is not having to sit through those painfully boring productions by the Littles. (Sorry, not sorry, but they are. They were boring when my kids were in them, too – it’s just that their participation made it slightly more bearable. Just like your kids do for you.)
So now I’m faced with that epic parenting dilemma. In order to support my daughter’s musical interests, I’ll be forced to sit through your precious snowflake’s excruciating attempt at singing while holding props that they will most certainly use to beat the child next to them.
I was forced to endure last year’s first grade performance for the same reason, and the teacher in me practically came out of my skin watching one boy repeatedly whack another with a (insert random prop here) until the music teacher took it away. About ten minutes into things I was distracted by thoughts of fashioning a shiv from the pointy programs and gouging my eyes out. It took some effort but the feeling passed, leaving a mere thirty-five more minutes of emotional pain and suffering in an uncomfortable folding chair to boot.
Who am I kidding…I know I’ll have to suck it up and go. It’s the only way I’ll get to hear all the great music Bear’s been learning this semester.
But that doesn’t mean I have to like it. So there.