Is that your big, white guitar or are you just happy to see me??

I was talking to a colleague of mine today and she reminded me of the joys of putting on our annual dog and pony show…whoa!! Was that out loud? I’m sorry. I mean, our annual assembly that celebrates and brilliantly displays student learning. Let me take this opportunity to say I HATE ASSSEMBLIES!!!

Let me calm down. I mean, what’s the big deal? They’re nothing to get worked up about. We just have to come up with a theme, find some songs, plan a few transitions, teach the kids their parts, make some costumes, write and print up programs, coordinate rehearsals, and get 80 six-year old children to do it all independently while we teachers squat behind chairs in the first row. Piece of cake!! I apologize for over-reacting. Maybe I should make myself a cocktail...why dont' you join me??

What I am trying to say (if you didn’t pick up on that heavy sarcasm there) is that assemblies are the biggest pain in the ass circus act ever!!!!! We might as well just ask the children to just jump through hula-hoops lit on fire and call it a day. And just before you thought it couldn’t get any worse friends, enter our music teacher. He’s the guy at our school who fills the quota of creepy-male-teacher-who-talks-to-your-boobs. I’m sure you have one at your school too. I don’t know why they hire these guys…aren’t they a huge sexual harassment liability? Also, I’m not entirely sure what he does during the day either. Honestly, I have this theory that there is secret coffee lounge/bar area where the music teacher, Ms. Weavealicious, Ms. Cocktails-Before-Noon and Ms. Chapped Ass Fanny Pack all hang out between 8 and 3.

But today, we are talking about the booby ogling music teacher, or as I like to think of him, Mr. Big White Guitar. Why do I refer to him as Mr. Big White Guitar you ask? It would be my pleasure to tell you…and conveniently it will lead us right back to the topic of assemblies…don’t you love it when that happens??

So Mr. Big White Guitar earned his name by always carrying a big, white guitar. Brilliant, right? I know. But it’s not so much that he always carries said big, white guitar because he’s a music teacher, so it’s not really that ridiculous. What gets me is that he uses said big white guitar to accompany our little cherubs at every single assembly. And despite the fact that he is COMPLETELY unoccupied from the hours of 9 to 11, his big white guitar remains un-tuned in time for our performance. I guess if I had all morning to hang out in the mystery lounge/coffee bar/slacker hole I would be hard pressed to find the time to turn those little knobby things and strum my strings. Seriously, I have got to stop having such high expectations for others.

As a result of Mr. Big White Guitar’s failure to DO HIS F’ING JOB the following takes place:

Setting: A sweaty un-air-conditioned sauna/auditorium. Two hundred restless children aged 3-9 sit anxiously anticipating the impending display of brilliance. Sprinkled throughout the crowd are several teachers frantically signaling things at their class. Between all the thumbs up, hand waving, shushing and pointing you’d think they were trying to wave in an airplane to land, but no, what they’re really doing is trying to get their 20 children to wait patiently in their seats and NOT ask to go to the bathroom. Four teachers, including myself, are squatting in the front row waving kids on and shooting alternating looks of encouragement and looks of death at our little friends…it’s truly a display of pedagogical brilliance.

Me: (in that weird teacher whisper/hiss) Go! Go! Go! You can do it!! You look awesome!! Don’t forget to smile! Stand up straight! Look smart!! Get ready to sing! Eyes on me! Don’t touch your partner!!

Now that I think about it, I’m firing directions at them like an idiot possessed…like they’re even listening, please. They’re busy looking for their parents, picking their noses, you name it!

My colleague: Ok guys!! Get ready!! Eyes on me!! Smile!! Smile!! Nice and loud now!!

A few more evil glances, some desperate hand waving and we’re set! Yes!! Yes!!! They’re perfect!! They look so cute!! IT was totally all worth it!! All the extra hours, the rehearsals, the anxiety induced stomachaches…they’re beautiful. I think I feel a tear welling up in my eye when…

There’s silence. Absolute silence. We have successfully gotten eighty small children to file onto stage into four perfect rows on risers. The crowd is anxiously awaiting their harmonic little voices raised in song, yet all we hear is….

THAT ASSHOLE TUNING HIS FUCKING GUITAR!!!!! WTF????

At this point, the 80 children who had just one moment ago had me close to tears of joy are now in their full glory…. pushing one another, talking, waving at the audience and definitely not smiling and looking at the teacher. Eventually, the guitar gets tuned, the children start singing and the whole thing is over but I can’t help but wonder sometimes…why do I even bother?

Whew!!! That was a long one!! I hope you got that cocktail when I suggested it at the beginning of this whole rant. But now friends, you know why I have a bit of a chip on my shoulder when it comes to Mr. Big White Guitar and find it difficult to restrain from slapping him every time he stares at my boobs.

Cheers!!