I finally landed a real job. It was out in the middle of nowhere New Hampshire, but it was an honest to God paying position teaching Music. I could finally support my expensive music habit and start living like an adult. Pay bills for myself and take my student loans out of deferment.
After my parents threw me a party and sent me on my way from Sunny California, reality settled in. I realized just what living in New Hampshire meant: long winters. High heating bills, hand warmers and cold feet, and most importantly; lots and lots of snow.
My hand to God it snowed the first day I arrived in September. By October, there was a blanket of snow on the ground, and by Halloween, I only had two trick-or-treaters come to my small rented townhouse due to ice and sleet.
My job wasn't going much better, so by Thanksgiving I flew home. I went to the beach, saw my friends, and cringed when the time came to get back on the plane to resume my position as piano professor at White University.
The first day after break, I walked into the building thinking I wasn't going to make it through the end of the year. I tried to put on a good front. I smiled at the secretary. She nodded in my general direction and then continued clicking on her computer as I checked my mailbox.
"Hi Dr. Beckett." a blue haired student said, then turned back to her friends. She was talking and laughing, and however untrue it probably was, I felt like I was the butt of the joke.
The students hated me from what I could tell. I was "too tough." I wanted their scales memorized. Major and melodic minor, plus arpeggios and blues scales; then two contrasting pieces to be played for end of year juries. Somehow this was too much for them, though I had been required to do more when I was a college freshman. Heck even some of my community music school students in California had been able to accomplish all that and more in high school.
"It's a different time," my administrator told me after I received my first complaint back in September. "Don't forget, you went to Juliard. It's a whole other ball game." I smiled, thinking screw it. I'd modify the syllabus. Freshmen now would only have to learn major scales and one piece with contrasting sections. That seemed to be what they wanted. Sure I wanted to go back to California, but not like this. Not in shame and ruin.
I was also having trouble with the culture. I'd committed the sin of calling a male student "He" when "He" wanted to be a "she." I had to write a letter of apology, and though I had been very sincere with my wording, trying to explain how I had made an honest mistake, my student, a sensitive boy (girl?) named Brad, transferred to another teacher which truly hurt.
I sat at my desk and opened my computer. "Sensitivity training" was the headline. I clicked on it and skimmed the body of the letter. It seemed that in light of my transgressions, I would have to go to a week of training in order to relearn how to interact with students.
I was on the verge of tears, but before I could close the door, I heard someone say "knock knock!" I looked up to see an athletic looking woman dressed in an oversized sweater. She had dark curly hair and wore shiny boots.
"Hi! I'm Madalyn." she said and held out her hand. I shook it. "I've been on leave, so we haven't met, but I'm the clarinet teacher down the hall."
"Oh. I've heard your name around." I recalled seeing her at the interview which consisted of a day and a half of talking to different professors and administrative staff. At that time she had been introduced as Dr. Willis.
"So how do you like New Hampshire? Everything going ok?" she asked.
I wanted to tell her it was great. That I felt lucky to be at White University. I had the job I'd dreamed of for 10 years, and now that I was here, I loved my students, the staff, etc. etc. At that moment though, I couldn't manage it. My face screwed up and I put my hand over my eyes hoping she would just go away.
"Oh honey!" she said, came in the room and closed the door. "What's wrong?"
I managed to sniff my tears away and gave her a tight smile. "I'm ok. Just having one of those days. Family stuff." I lied.
She must have seen the open email on my computer because she patted me on the back, then dragged the chair I had by the piano bench to my desk.
"I heard about sensitivity training." she said under her breath leaning into me, though the door was closed and the rooms padded for sound. "It's not you. That kid has a long history of being ridiculous."
I took a tissue, wiped my eyes and tried to laugh a little. I then looked at her with a tentative questioning look.
"Oh yeah. Rodney is shitting his pants now that he has to teach him/her/it...whatever."
I actually did laugh a little at that. "You don't think I'm going to lose my job over it?"
"God, no. You called a boy who looks like a boy a boy. Christ, even Lucille thought it was ridiculous." I gave her a look that told her I had no idea who that was. "You know, Lucille. The dean."
"Oh" I said, shaking my head at the mental lapse. She was Ms. Wallace to me.
"She's got to be the most liberal person on campus. In fact, she just announced her 21 year old daughter is trans. I think she's thrilled and proud of it. She did come up with a good idea though to keep all this nonsense at bay. Next week we're all going to have name tags with pronouns on them. If they change, you change your name tag. So we don't have any more mix ups. She's sending out an email today."
"That sounds like what's needed." I said, sorry I was the catalyst that caused it.
"Don't worry about it. All this will blow over. Go to the stupid training and try to look sincere about embracing woke culture. You'll be fine. Besides, Brad is Rodney's problem now. You're teaching, what? 15 underclassmen and a few keyboard clases?" she asked.
"That and Freshman theory."
"Oh ok. I was wondering who was teaching that. Anyway, it seems like the rest of your students are nice kids. The ones I know from last year anyway, and the freshmen are all too new to be obnoxious." she looked at the time. "Well, I better get going. My first one is on the way. You want to have coffee later?" she asked.
"Yeah, I'd love it!" I said, glad to have finally met someone who seemed sympathetic and friendly.
"Ok, let's meet at Java's after lunch. 2:00 ok?" she asked, and I nodded. I had my break from 2-3, but she probably knew that already.
That day's teaching went better. I taught four lessons back to back, and was exhausted after drilling scales and arpeggios and trying to make analogies like legato playing was like writing in cursive as opposed to typing. I hoped at least a little of what I said sunk in, but I was underwhelmed at the level of playing these music majors displayed.
At coffee, I found Madelyn was talkative and full of advice and opinions. "This place isn't churning out top tier musicians" she said. "We're a small school. We want to instill the love of music in our students and ignite the love of teaching. Our students will go on to teach band, piano lessons, and elementary music. One out of maybe 100 will go on to a top 5 school for an advanced degree." she explained after I told her about how I'd been reamed out for having high expectations.
"It took me a few years to understand what we do and how we operate here. Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it." she told me. "You have to grow where you are planted." and I agreed.
From there, she told me about herself. She went to a conservatory, grew up in Texas, was from a big family, and though we were around the same age, this was her 8th year at White University.
When I looked at my phone, I realized I had enjoyed talking so much the time had gotten away from me, and I had only five minutes until I had to teach my keyboard skills class.
"Oh, Gosh!" I said. "Look at the time." I said, realizing I needed to go right then.
It was only then that I realized she looked disappointed. Just for a second, and then the mask went up again. "I really enjoyed getting to know you better." she said, and got up from her chair. "I hope we can meet again soon." she said, and gave me a hug.
The hug only lasted a second, but there was something in it. It seemed to be not just a friendly hug. There was more there, as I felt her large breasts crush up against my torso. As I walked out the door, she sat back down, but I couldn't get the energy that passed through us out of my mind. There was a sensuality in it that registered with me, and I wondered if it was mutual, or just my imagination.
I'd never thought about sex with a woman before, or even having a non platonic relationship with someone of the same sex, but somehow that hug put it in my mind. Before then, I simply wasn't attracted to women, but now I was thinking about it. I'm not sure what it was. Maybe the way she looked at me, the way she squeezed me, I wasn't sure.
Still, I'd had numerous relationships with men that never worked out though. I was always practicing too much. I was too ambitious. They didn't feel like I cared (whatever that meant), but for some reason I felt something else with Madelyn. She seemed to be on my wavelength. Like she got me, and for the first time ever, I felt a true connection and maybe a spark?
Then again, maybe I was just lonely and reading into a split second reaction too much. I didn't know if she was into girls, or guys. She hadn't said, and we didn't talk about relationships. She probably knew a lot about me because I was new and temporarily in the new faculty fish bowl, but I didn't know anything about her. For all I knew she was married and had 5 kids.
......................................................................................
For the next few weeks, I said "hi" to Madelyn in the halls, and she would come by and chat occasionally. I could tell she had an easy way with everyone, and I felt silly for thinking she might have been attracted to me. She was just being friendly, obviously. She was probably straight. Not into girls at all.
Then, one day before a faculty meeting, I saw Rodney, the other undergraduate piano teacher sitting alone, so I took the opportunity to ask how Brad, my former student was doing. He rolled his eyes and exaggerated a look of exasperation. "It's fine. Whenever ZIM tries to educate me about my white gay privilidge, I change the subject to Rachmoninov." I laughed, I couldn't help myself. "Then this week I told ZIM to go into politics." He over emphasized the pronoun whenever he said it, which made me laugh harder.
