As of late, I have had some really entertaining adventures in teaching, and rather than whine about my injuries, as I have for the previous few blogs, I thought we'd mix it up a smidge. I currently teach 6 special needs boys piano and drums, and I've had some really entertaining times. But the real winner is my adult drum guy, or as my friends know him, the guy who tells me that Tupac is dead. But let me backtrack.
My other students are all kids- between 7 and 13, and most of them have autism. They have no physical boundaries...one minute they'll be really spacey and distant, the next, they'll be clammering to get in your lap. (Or as my Friday student does, he seems to be going for my rack, which is always awkward since the mom sits in on the lesson. "Leave Miss Kayleigh alone, Ricky! Sit up straight and get out of her lap!") But my adult drum guy is ghetto fabulous. He's mid thirties, and had a severe car accident in his twenties which resulted in some serious brain damage, and he used to play drums and DJ. Apparently, that's where I come in. Aside from the point that I have *0* drum skills.
Anyway, every week, we start the lesson by him giving me a tour of his room. He points out every one of his CD's, and will tell me highly entertaining anecdotes. Here's some examples:
"You know Jay-Z? He's married. He cusses, and I don't like that shit in my rap songs. That's fucked up." (Always makes me laugh)
"You know who this is?" "Tupac." "Yep, he's dead. Got shot." Usually, he informs me of Tupac's death two or three times per lesson. He does this to a lesser degree with the Norotious B.I.G.
"You know who this is? It's Kobe Bryant. He was fucking around and he's married. That's rough shit."
The thing that's also entertaining in all this is that he shows me the same stuff every week. He has a video rack with about 10 videos, and shows me them every week. The movies are: the Bodyguard ("a white man falls in love with a black woman. He saves her."), Bad Boys II, Friday, Batman Forever, Independence Day, and some other movies with Xzibit and other rappers as action scenes. ("Look at his tattoos. You see those? I have tattoos of Tweety and Taz. Those hurt like hell. And they were expensive.") After he shows me the movies, he usually points out each of his posters, which are of rappers ("Tupac is Dead."), boxers, and sports stuff that I know nothing about. Finally, if he's feeling bold, he'll show me each pair of shoes that he owns, which are usually Air Force Ones, Timberlands, and other shoes with serious street credibility. And I, in my little Aldo flats, act like I get all of this stuff. The irony, of course, is that I know enough about rap and shoes to save my ass from humiliation in this situation, even if I'm wearing a shirt from banana republic and a skirt from American Apparel, and look very wholesome. Anyway, every week, the first 8 minutes or so are a demonstration of possessions, which is always entertaining at best.
After show and tell, we move to the drum kit. Every week, I try to teach him basic rhythm patterns and beats, and eventually, after a few minutes, he'll say one of two things:
"This sounds like shit. I sound terrible. I used to play the drums. This is no good." (To which his live-in aid or I will respond with praise and tell him to be patient.)
Or, my personal favorite: "Yuck. Rap doesn't use these kinds of beats. This ain't real." (This usually happens if I've had him do a 6/8 pattern. He doesn't like 6/8 or 3/4. It doesn't happen in rap, apparently.)
After about 10 minutes of patterns, we'll then do his favorite thing, which is play rap music loudly, and try to find the beat and pattern of the piece. We do this every week. And it's actually kind of fun, except I discovered that rap doesn't have a plethora of rhythms. But, it's fun and kind of ridiculous to me that I, a super white person, goes to teach this one guy who is not cognizant of my inherent whiteness, and talks to me like I have a vast knowledge of rap, air force ones, boxing, and basketball. Every time I go, I feel absolutely ridiculous, for obvious reasons, but he's completely harmless and he doesn't really know what's going on. The first time I went, I was terrified, because I felt so out of place, with my little dog purses and silver flats, but after the first few times, I realized that he had no idea what I was wearing, or that I had no concept of gangs, fighting, or silver plated teeth. And that all he wanted was someone to listen to him, and share the rap music with, which I can do.
"Because Tupac is Dead...Did you know that?"
Currently listening to: Grizzly Bear, recordings of the song "little brother" and "knife". I don't listen to Tupac...because he's dead.
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