March on

I teach little kids piano and these are some of the things I tell them and they seem to think I’m funny

“woah there buddy”

“be expressive, not aggressive”

“play staccato like you would play hot potato”

“yikes”

student: “why does posture matter?” me: “look at my hands when I’m playing with flat fingers. doesn’t that look weird? it looks kind of disturbing. don’t have flat fingers.” student: “you’re right”

“no no no don’t do that you’ll break your hand”

me: “what chord is this?” student: “g major. but can we name it carlos?” me: “…I don’t see why not”

“the man on my screensaver is dmitri shostakovich and you will learn to love his music, too”

“yeah this guy wrote angry music”

“we’re going to play this excruciatingly slowly. suffering is how we make progress”

me: “so a harp is basically just a naked piano.” my student: “so, you could say that inside a piano are the piano’s…organs.”

*miscellaneous sound effects and screeches*

*badly singing along as they play*

“composers were crazy. don’t ever let anyone tell you that mozart was sophisticated because he told some very bad jokes.”

me: “what interval is that?” student: “EL DIABLO”

“it’s going to sound bad, but that means you’re playing it right”

“please don’t play the piano with your elbows. you can try that at home”

“so the music says that it should be an f sharp but you played it as an f natural and I kind of liked that so we’re keeping it”

My Brain, banging pots and pans together: YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUC

Me: *makes huge mistake that will directly affect my future horribly*