Last night was our school's Christmas program. And I almost started a riot.
First I should explain that since I am the only teacher who can read music, I am officially the music teacher. That's how it works at Christian schools. And that's fine with me. I actually enjoy it. So since Thanksgiving I have had 20 minutes a day to teach 50 kids, ages 4 to 10, their songs for the Christmas program. We learned "Here We Come A-Caroling," "Deck The Halls," "Jingle Bells," "O Come All Ye Faithful," "We Three Kings," and "We Wish You A Merry Christmas." You would be surprised how quickly kids learn the words to songs. Even the four year olds knew to sing "traverse a far" instead of "travel so far" in "We Three Kings." And they sounded pretty good, too. But I learned from years of doing this, that how they sound doesn't really matter. As soon as they walk on stage in their shiny dresses and new sweaters, the parents are happy. We could sing "Old MacDonald" and they wouldn't care. They just love to see their little angels on stage looking for them and smiling and waving and singing their little hearts out. And I've learned that most groups of kids, unless being directed by a professional with many hours of practice, aren't going to sing like the angels they look like.
So here's where the story begins. At approximately 7:48pm the program was over and my students had been collected by their parents. So I headed upstairs to join in the fellowship and cookies. I saw one of my parents and she asked me if it was okay if she took her family down to see the classroom. Of course it was. That's why I bribed the kids to clean it yesterday afternoon. So she headed down, but the grandma lingered behind. So I'm standing in a full foyer of happy parents when this grandma comes over and asks me if we have a piano in the building. I felt the tension right away and thought maybe it was going to be about the fact that we are a non-instrumental church. I told her no, we don't have a piano. "You don't have a piano anywhere in this building?" she repeated. "Umm, no." "Well," she says, "Your kids were singing flat the whole time and if you had a piano they would able to stay on key." I tried to walk away. Really I did. But this close talker got even closer. (Did I mention that in the beginning I was just trying to get out of the crowd. I get a little nervous when I feel cornered.) She continued, "I'm a music teacher and I could help." "No thank you," I said politely still trying to walk away. "Really?" she asks still getting closer. I was thinking to myself, "Who goes up to the director of elementary age students five minutes after the program and criticizes their performance?" "Not tonight. Don't do this tonight. Please stop talking to me. If you want to talk about this, come to the school tomorrow and I'll talk to you," I pleaded. Still closer. Still following. "Please get away from me." Still closer. Still following. I'm not sure what she was saying because I was actually in the beginning of an anxiety attack.
Now here you must know that I could see my dad over her shoulder watching this whole thing not knowing what was going on but seeing the panicked look on my face and this strange woman harassing me. My very overprotective dad with the quick Irish temper, by the way.
So he walked over and got between us and I'm not sure what he said to her because it gave me a chance to get away. My sister who was also watching all of this and knowing dad, got between the woman and dad. But then her husband came over and got in my dad's face. Bad move. So I hurried back over and literally screamed for my dad to get away from them and not make it worse. She still stood there like she wanted to say more to me even after seeing how upset I was. Finally they went downstairs and I looked around. There was this circle of people who loved me there ready for anything. I'm not kidding. My family and friends, including in-laws and ex-laws, were there not really knowing what was going on but they had my back. Kathy even commented later that that lady didn't know who she was messing with. True. Very true. It was like a scene from "West Side Story." Only with grandparents and Christian school teachers.
Meanwhile, the foyer is still full of parents thinking who knows what with me screaming and crying and a fight almost breaking out.
Here's what I have to say for myself and the possible slight over reaction. I still had a little bit of adrenaline running through me from the performance. I was sooo glad that the whole thing was over. For me it was like vacation had just started. And I'm pregnant and therefore more emotional than normal. And I'm a little freaked out by confrontation, strangers, large crowds, and close talkers. Put all of these together with someone criticizing MY kids, and there's going to be some screaming and crying. And frankly I'm glad that dirty looks was all it turned out to be. And that I was the only one who had to scream and cry.
I do also want to say that after thinking about it, I'm sure this lady was trying to be helpful. But it wasn't helpful. She ruined for me what was supposed to be a wonderful night for my family. And was, too, until she decided to give her two cents. I know the kids sang flat. And maybe a piano would help. But out of 200+ people who sat in the audience last night only one worried about four year olds singing on key.
And I wish she would have just gone home and blogged about it instead of telling me.
Josh tried to shovel the front walk, but with a foot of new snow, he didn't get far.
The boys love all the snow hills along the driveway. They built caves and made slides all the way. 
Luckily, Arrty got the snowblower running again and has been able to keep up with the storms.
Even Jake got in on the snow fun! His four legs made it a little more difficult to get to the top.