The 5 Things You Should Know Before Writing a List Article

This is where the hook goes. Too bad I didn't bother writing one. Thanks to Cracked Magazine, Buzzfeed, and other sites, it has become fashionable to write and share articles with compelling titles like, "5 Reasons Nicholas Cage Is Trying to Kill You" or "12 Things Only Kids Who Grew Up Street Fighting in the Slums of Reykjavic Would Understand." And really, I could start writing anything else in this paragraph. I'm wasting my time even making the attempt to be creative because ...

1. This is the First Part Anyone Actually Reads.

I'm pressing my luck even writing a follow up sentence after this. Just a few random words will do. Iguana. Pepper mill. Ambidextrous rodeo clowns. It really doesn't matter after this point, as ...

2. The Reader Has Already Skipped to the Second Point.

By this point, you could write anything. The writers at Cracked Magazine like to put all of their potty humor here, so they use the body of the second point to make weird analogies about naughty bits and gazongas. It's really an impressive exercise in filth on the part of some authors. Not that I mind it. I love a dirty joke as much as the next guy. Perhaps more. I could load this article with F-bombs and peepee jokes at this point, and it wouldn't matter. Nobody is reading this far anyway, and the truth is...

3. Words Are Boring

There's a good chance nobody is reading this part. A really good chance. Here are 3 sentences of Lorem Ipsum: Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Integer tincidunt tellus et ligula rhoncus sodales. Duis luctus purus arcu, nec imperdiet neque euismod sed. If you read that, cheers to you! Yes, some people actually do read the article, but in most cases it's ...

4. Blah, Blah, Blah, Scroll, Scroll, Scroll

Anyone reading an article like this on a smart phone has already flicked past this point like they're trying to get rid of a troublesome booger. Sure,I may have just written an awesome booger joke, but it's buried in the whooshing blur of impatient parsing. See? That was a nice sentence, but it will go largely ignored. My friends might be reading this out of courtesy, and because I have smart, sophisticated friends. Except Gerry. He's a knave and a scoundrel with questionable grooming habits. Ok, not really. Don't tell him that sentence is in there. I want him to see it for himself. Oh, and hi, Val! You might be reading this, too. And I forgot ...

5. This is It? What a Lame Ending!

Yeah, you may have wasted 5 minutes of your life reading this article, but I wasted more time writing it. Still, we all know people like to read the stuff in bold print preceded by a number or bullet point and ignore everything else. Banana. Haberdasher. Unsolicited phone call from the Pope. Rhinoplasty.

The True Warriors of Music Education

In honor of Labor Day, I'd like to pay tribute to a group of music teachers who go mostly unnoticed, unrewarded, unrecognized, and undercompensated. These teachers spend their days working with kids who, for whatever reason, may not be as successful or even as "talented" as their peers. Nonetheless, these teachers treat the less successful students with respect as the first chair player in the top band, helping spur them on to the next level, even if that next level is just playing a recognizable scale. They pick up missing pieces and fill in missing gaps in learning, they remind kids how to practice. They coach, encourage, sometimes even cajole their students, selflessly giving as much effort as humanly possible and then some. And what thanks do they get? Well, not much, but I'd like to honor this dedicated group of musicians in a public forum. I'm speaking of middle school assistant band directors.

The really challenging part about teaching at middle school level can be found in the second band, and ensemble usually contains a mix of three disparate groups: crestfallen kids who tried their best but didn't make it; kids who may have missed a few concepts early on and need a year to catch up; and kids who have been branded as lazy, but may just lack some inspiration and a bit of discipline. Ok, maybe some of the kids are lazy, but it doesn't mean they're hopeless. Anyway, the middle school assistant, usually a less experienced teacher, gets thrown into this world and is charged with helping make all three groups of students not sound like a massive, ailing bagpipe. They supplement their rehearsals with worksheets, assignments, chorales, exercises, more sectionals, private lessons, etc., and still have to make copies and do other administrative work per the "other duties as assigned" clause. Oh, and a lot of them might have to teach beginner oboes or horns on top of all that. Sounds fun, right? But this is where the REAL teaching takes place.

Our intrepid middle school assistant takes all of these students, leads them through the year, puts them on stage as much as possible, and hopefully encourages them to continue in music. And their reward for all of this? Their most successful students get moved into a higher band or move on to high school. The best middle school assistants will only get to work with most of their students for one year, but it's probably the most important year in that student's musical development.

So I salute the many middle school assistant band directors out there. Without all of you, the head directors and even the high school directors would have a much, much, much harder job!

A Glimpse Inside the Mind of a Freelance Musician

It doesn't matter what shape your chops are in, how much you practice, or how well you play. Sooner or later, you're going to be in a position where you find yourself staring at a blank space in your calendar. If it's just a day or two, you'll think "Hey, great, a couple days with no gigs. I can finally catch up with stuff around the house, watch TV, and maybe do some reading like regular people." Three or four days leads to, "Well, that's odd, but at least I can get some practice time in." It happens to all of us at some point, so we just move on with our lives and wait for the next rehearsal, kiddie show, or church service.

When you see a week or more, that's when the real paranoia sets in. Like all good introspective musicians, we seek accountability in our own actions, even to the point of self-flagellation. Sure we can chalk it up to a bad economy, bad luck with scheduling, or other forces beyond our control, but there's a nagging question in a voice that gets more and more persistent and urgent: Did I do something wrong?

It doesn't even matter that the previous part of the season was pretty good, or if next month is going to be spectacular. For some reason, one's entire perspective changes based on present circumstances. It's like being stranded on a desert island and staring lamentably at the empty crates of food that have washed ashore during the past few months, knowing that you just ate your last can of beans. Regardless of the skill you might have developed in opening the cans, cooking the food, and guaranteeing your own survival, it still feels like much of your life is left in the hands of providence.

There's a joke that freelance musicians like to tell:

Two musicians are catching up and talking about their lives. One asks the other, "How are things going lately?"

The second musician replies, "Well, a couple of weeks ago I won the lottery. Last week I just found out that a long-lost uncle died and left me a huge inheritance. But this week? NOTHING!"

And that's the life of a freelance musician. There's not much we can do about it besides pour another cup of coffee, teach those students, and hit the practice room.