Yesterday I signed up for our new semester of Music Together. We're still in the middle of this session, but you know -- 15 bucks off if you get in early for April yada yada. (Have I mentioned that MT here is literally twice the cost of MT in Denver? Oh, Connecticut.)
And I picked a different teacher, one I tried out during a makeup class a couple weeks ago. A teacher that was hip, played the guitar like a rocker, and let me, you know, talk to my child when she needed to ask me something.
In stark contrast to our current teacher, who, when I quietly answered a question Harper quietly asked today ("What's that say?" about a sign on the wall. "Music Together," I whispered back) bore her beady eyes into my skull and admonished: "Mama, please just follow along with me and don't get distracted."
Oh. Okay. CRAZY LADY.
She takes all of the fun out of it for the parents. All. Sucks it out. Yum yum yum, gone. Yes, she's pretty good with the kids (just pretty) and yes, she really really really cares. I can see that. But holy sweet Jesus. Enough is enough, sister.
(Also, she refers to me as "Mama Amy" which...no. Please do not.)
So yeah, I signed up with this other lady and felt just peachy about it. Imagined cozy afternoons of guitar strumming, minus the lullaby lectures. Until today, when Gypsy Teacher Lady told me these classes are her "life's work" and then Harper asked to kiss her goodbye and then she told Harper "I love you" and ... and then I felt a little bad. Maybe a little more than a little.
(p.s. We're still changing teachers.)
(p.p.s. I'm heartless, I think?)