It was 1984 and Madonna was topping the charts with “Like a Virgin.” I was topping the charts with all A’s in second grade at Hilltop Elementary school. I was a good kid, not a nerd. Do not get it twisted. I had the yearning to learn and my brain was like a sponge. I was getting chased on the playground by all the cutest boys. They were teasing me and that only meant one thing…they liked me. Life was as good as it gets for a seven year old girl. But, my music teacher was screwing it up. He was not hitting any high notes with me. He was flat and I couldn’t stand to hear his voice. We will call him Mr. “W”, I’m kind enough to give him anonymity.
It was another boring and frustrating day in music class. We had our desks in a “U” shape and one by one we had to play our little recorders. For those of you who do not know, the recorder is a flute like instrument and made my life hell! I was perfect in all my other subjects, but this recorder was making me a nervous wreck! I hated the little brown tube with holes that had a blue, little thin case. So, without a doubt all the other kids from A to E seemed to speed through their music scale, and it was my turn. I was up, front and center and looking back, probably over prepared. Mr. “W”, always found away to take the wind out of my sails. “Janine, Every Good Boy Does Fine. Can you remember that, Janine!!!!!” I wanted to scratch his eyes out and stab him with that damn recorder. I knew I was not this teacher’s pet and nor was I ever going to try and be his little musical genius.
I went home that night after he embarrassed me in front of the entire second grade class and was steaming! My poor mother felt bad for me but she hated listening to it too. She knew that recorder was a piece of junk, so she graciously listened as I screwed up every note. The musical scale didn’t sound so pretty. Every Good Boy Does Fine sounded more like Every Good Boy Does Awful! I didn’t care about the notes! E, G, B, D, and F were not my friends. Neither was Face, which stood for the notes F, A, C, and E! That one’s obvious, huh? I just kept practicing and doing my best and Mr. W could keep thinking my skills were mediocre. In my opinion he was a loser and scary. So mediocre was fine for me in that classroom.
The next few weeks of class came and went, then one day he announced we would have a talent show. We each had to get up and sing, play piano, or play an instrument. Well, this made me smile from within. This was my chance to shove the recorder straight up his, well, you know, where the sun doesn’t shine! I went home and announced to my mom that I would be singing Madonna’s, “Like a Virgin” for the second grade class and Mr. “W.”
My mom said, “Oh no honey, not that song.” I cried out, “But why Mom, I love it?” This went on for quite some time as she tried to explain and not explain all in the same conversation why I could NOT sing a song with the word “Virgin” in it. I was seven. She wanted to keep it that way. I understand now, Mom. So, I went with the next best thing, “Material Girl.”
The whole week I practiced my song and I was nailing it. Every note the best a child can do. Everyday until my turn I heard horrific versions of the latest Top Forty songs from my classmates. I must admit, I even heard “Like a Virgin” being belted out by kids whose parents should have known better! That caused quite a few temper tantrums as I went home and told my mom, “See everyone else is singing it!” And, her famous response always followed, “So, if everyone else were jumping off a bridge, would you do it just because they were?” Love that one! You know every one of your mother’s threw that at you more than a couple times growing up.
The day finally came and I got up in front of the class and I did it…”Material Girl” rolled off my tongue and I hit the notes almost perfectly. I even did a little dance to go with it. All appropriate, my mom was the choreographer. So, it was rated G.
Mr. “W”, simply said, “Good job, Janine.” I heard the word “Good” and wanted to run and kick him in the face. It was GREAT!!!! Clearly his ears were broken or clogged. Good job, what the hell was he talking about??? Was he deaf? There was just no pleasing this man. He was out to get me. Good is for losers. I was tough on myself at seven, and I guess I still am today too.
From that point on I hated him. Mom says, “Don’t say hate!” Sorry to disappoint her, but I hated him. He was teaching children the arts and he clearly had bad taste. He had no patience and he played favorites. He wouldn’t know a songbird if it pecked him on his big nose.
If I ran into Mr. Effin “W” today I would look him in the eyes and tell him he made a big mistake with me. I would let him know he was no good at teaching children and shaping their young minds and he did no good at molding their confidence either. Good thing I had great parents.
Unfortunately, I had Mr. “W” for the next four years as well. He was the only music teacher in the school. In the end he taught me adversity and how to handle it. Not everyone will think you are great, people make mistakes, and everyone is a critic! Most of the time what they are judging you on, they can’t even do themselves. And, really he is just one person. The problem is that I let him influence me so much that he may have impacted a life long dream. In case you didn’t know I was supposed to be the next Whitney Houston. She was my idol. I killed my own dreams and desires along the way. I can’t blame it all on my elementary school music teacher.
I have some raw talent and he might be just one of the reasons I have stage fright when it comes to my singing. He missed out on discovering this rock star! He may have busted my confidence for a moment in time…but maybe he made it stronger in some crazy way too. By that I mean he gave me the brass balls I have now when dealing with people like him, but lacked at the ripe old age of seven. I did just fine in life and have excelled at many things in the Arts. I always said I would be on TV, and I am. I’m no Madonna but I ain’t dead yet. Don’t want to be her anyway. I’m just Janine. My star is rising.
If I ran into Mr. “W” I would say, “Every Good Boy Does Fine, Every Awful teacher Can Go To Hell, and Check out this Great Young Woman in your F A C E! Now stick every note and that damn recorder up your musical scale and sing, sing, sing!”
