No More Rosin!

When teaching 8th graders (specifically, 8th grade boys) it's important to remember one simple thing:


Everything (yes, everything) is a sexual innuendo.

I feel like this is especially true in music performance ensemble settings.

Think about it: Sally is a flute player and a staccato passage pops up. It sounds muddy and the teacher calls back, "Sally! You really need to be tonguing there. It needs to be very articulate!" Next thing you know you've got Johnny the trumpet player (or, more likely, trombone player) snickering to his friend and mumbling (or yelling, if he's bold enough), "What's wrong, Sally, don't know how to use your tongue?" *snicker snicker* Subtle enough for the kids whose brains haven't quite reached that level yet, but obvious enough to those who have that he's being a pervert.

The trombone players are the worst (trom-boners) and we all know about the pregnancies that result from a ride on the percussion bus (hey, they really know how to use a stick, afterall).

In orchestra we have our f-holes ("Hehehe hey Miss B - I got my finger stuck in my f-hole! Hehehehehehe!") and our fingering patterns (I'm waiting for the day they ask me, "Oooh Miss B, could you help me with my fingering...skills?").

Today it was rosin. Jack* and Sam* are wandering around the room at the start of class with bows in hand. They each grab a cube of rosin and start sliding it up and down their bow hairs. Five minutes full of snickers and glances my way and "SAM STOOOOP hahahahahaha"s I was ready to run to the locker room and bathe myself.


And that, my friends, is orchestra with 8th grade boys.




Miss B