Polly is one of my adult students. She’s retired and wonderfully sassy. A while back, I amassed some of her more robust statements into a decree of Pronouncements. I can’t get enough of her sassafras. Here’s a few more:
::As she begins to sing over the piano during a bar of rest::
Me: the piano goes first. Then you.
Her: Oh I see. but the piano has no value to me.
::During vowel work:::
Me: if only we could sing on all vowels all the time
Her: or just consonants (demonstrates explosive consonants) Puh. Fff. Shhh. Kuh. Chuh. Huh. I think that’s called Jazz.
Me: Or beatboxing.
::we both erupt into lively beatbox jam session, lesson dissolves hopelessly:::
:::During consonant work:::
Me: explode your consonants. They’re kind of imploding and getting caught in the back of the throat right now.
Her: I can implode with impunity.
While singing Arne’s Where The Bee Sucks. There’s a line where she sings “on the bat’s back I fly.”
Her: I think this Arne guy was on something. And it wasn’t the bat’s back.
God bless Polly.