Pioneer District Barbershop Convention (the Bows)

I would like to thank several people and groups for my experience this weekend, first and foremost, my wife, Sonya. She has never liked the idea of me taking off a whole weekend and leaving her with the kids for something 'optional'. Especially when there are chores to do, work time to request off, money to be saved, and such. Thank you for your understanding, Sonya. I can't say it will ever end, but I will always try and make it as painless as I can for you!

Second, my Dad. Thank you for exposing me to barbershop at such a young age. I know it took a long time for me to get involved in the Society, but I've always had the 'bug' thanks to you. The barbershop records played on Saturdays, stopping by chorus performances whenever they'd appear at fairs and such, teaching me 'Wait Till the Sun Shines, Nellie' when I was knee-high to nothin' – it all cemented a love for this style and those songs that can never be shaken. Thank you for the ongoing birthday present of paying my Society dues, and always cheering me on, allowing me to be a part of this great fraternity of music.

Third, my Mom. Mom, you gave me the initial drive to make music my life by exposing me to all kinds of music, especially good, tight a cappella stuff. You gave me the ear to make this stuff sound good and appreciate it on a whole new level. And most of all, you've always encouraged me to keep at it, enduring my home-made recordings, force-fed listening to my quartet, etc. Thank you.

Third, the Detroit Oakland Chapter, Gentleman Songsters Chorus. You guys are top-notch. You are always supportive (even when I suck – bad), and a solid bunch of great singers and gentlemen. Thank you for allowing me to share in the fun. I love each and every one of you. Special thanks to those who have allowed me to be in quartets with them: Wally, Jeff, Pete, Zaven, and Jim (Godspeed, Jim), and our fantastic and fun director, Steve Sutherland.

Next, my current quartet, Coda Honor. Lou, Mike, and Floyd, you have given me a chance to do something I never thought I could do – make barbershopping not only a TON of fun, but financially justifiable! I love singing with you guys and always will. Maybe someday we can go knock one out of the park on the contest stage!

Lou Coviak. You're my best friend, confidant, and partner in musical crime. I can't and won't go into what you've meant to me over the years. You'll always have a Tenor - and a friend – in me. I could go on for pages, but you know it all anyway.

And a BIG thank you to my mentor, Rick Hartsoe – the man who first gave me the chance to sing a cappella music and barbershop in front of REAL PEOPLE! Enjoy your retirement, old man. You've earned it more than you can possibly imagine. You've given me a love of singing and the tools to do it well that I will carry with me the rest of my days, and hopefully pass on to more generations as your legacy. Thank you for the music.

Finally, thank you to everyone I met and sang with at the convention: Ian (Mt. Pleasant Chapter), Keynotes (Macomb Chapter), Jeff (Moxxy), Party of Four (from all over), Fermata Nowhere (District Champs and Pioneer District International reps), and everyone else. Thank you for making barbershopping and every event and convention more fun than I could have imagined any activity could be.

Thank you all…

Pioneer District Barbershop Convention (the Tag)

Sunday…

Sunday mornings at barbershop conventions almost always start off with a fairly non-denominational church service, usually more focused on singing hymns and spirituals than sermons and bible verses. Unfortunately, being up until almost 3am the night prior at ever convention, I almost NEVER can get my sorry, heathen ass out of bed in time for it.

So I had planned on getting checked out by 10am, but as always, that just didn't seem to happen. We slept till 10, realized the time, and jumped out of bed and began showering and gathering. The Concierge Lounge closed at 10, but thankfully, the attendant was kind enough to open the doors long enough for us to grab some coffee and whatever was leftover from the free continental breakfast. Big Mistake! Soon, she had more or less completely re-opened the darned thing as most of the other barbershoppers who were up till 3am or later had the same idea. Hope she made some good tips!

I drag my stuff to the car and pull it up to the entrance to get Lou, who had managed a ride up with a fellow chorus member. Odd thing about the morning after is, though the lobby is again filled with barbershoppers, no one's much interested in singing. We're all pretty worn out, hoarse, hung-over, or otherwise incapable of croaking anything out without hurting ourselves somehow. Besides which, we had our fun, got our respective Jonzes satisfied, and just wanna get the heck home.

So Lou checks us out of the room, we pile into the car, and head down I-94, blasting Weird Al's newest album the whole way. God, we're such dorks.

By Ann Arbor, we're feeling a bit hungry and grab a bite at a Big Boy in Ann Arbor. While Lou's finishing his 3^rd plate from the breakfast Buffet, I give a call to Sonya to let her know what's up, try calling my Dad (not home), and we're off to home. I drop Lou, then get home. Exhausted, sick, drained, but immensely satisfied in a great convention.

Next, Pioneer District Barbershop Convention (the Bows)...

Pioneer District Barbershop Convention (the Verse & Chorus)

Saturday…

Up at 7am, we discover the rehearsal isn't until 9, so we sleep another hour. From 8-8:45, were running around the room frantically showering, shaving, getting our tuxes on, stage make-up on, fumbling with cuff links and registration badges, and grabbing a quick coffee and a bite at the Concierge Lounge before running down to rehearse. I'm dragging, feeling the effects of a long day, a freezing band rehearsal, little sleep, and an oncoming cold. I run back to the room for my sinus meds and vitamin C. Next thing I know, I'm rerrin' ta go!

We take the chorus picture and head up to perform. Aside from a few glitches in my own timing, and a few tuning problems adjusting to the acoustics, the performance went well. Not stellar, but well. We had a pretty reasonable expectation of coming in 3^rd, given what we had heard of the new, young 'upstarts' in the district, the Mt. Pleasant "Mountain Top Singers" chorus. We knew we weren't going to beat Macomb and be the new district representatives to the International competition, but as long as we improved, that's all we cared about, really. That, and having fun singing.

After changing into my jeans and quartet shirt, I headed back down to the contest seating to watch the other 2 top choruses, the Mt. Pleasant and Macomb chapters. Lou made it quite clear that I would meet a slow, painful death if I missed Macomb. Mt. Pleasant went on before intermission. Their problem has never been singing, it's been stage presence and entertainment value. Well, they fixed that pretty damned well! Moves were well planned, coordinated and timed, facial expressions were consistent and sincere – not forced, and their sound, WOW! Precise cut-offs, phrases pushed to the end, words enunciated beautifully. I was TRULY impressed! I knew they would give Macomb a REAL run for their money!

Lou had been dropping hints about what Macomb was going to do, swearing me to secrecy about even the tiniest, vaguest hint he would give. I knew it was going to be a real crowd-pleaser. Trouble is with that kind of show, no matter the genre, the musical technique almost always takes a bit of a hit. Well the show WAS AMAZING! A Christmas theme, complete with Christmas trees, gifts, skating pond, ice fishing, snowball fights, pratfalls, Frosty, Santa, and all the reindeer! Absolute fun to watch! It sounded great, too, but I wasn't sure if it was going to be enough to beat Mt. Pleasant. I truly couldn't tell, as I was so enthralled by the production if it all, I wasn't doing my usual overly-analytical breakdown of the technique. Those of you than know me, know it takes a LOT to get me out of "music educator mode" and back into "fan mode"!

After Lou got changed, we headed to the hotel pub to grab a bite. We were set to have dinner with the chapter at 4, but since Lou got a $15 meal voucher for waiting 2 hours to check in, he figured it was the best time to use it. While we were eating, he told me he was reminded that he won the raffle at the last convention for a free room to this one! We finish our snack and head to the gift shop so Lou can find a new Kalamazoo shot glass. While he was shopping, I headed out to try and find a score sheet from the chorus competition. I grab a blue sheet and start strolling back to the gift shop while reading it. "Shit. He's gonna be impossible to live with after this."

Macomb won.

It's about this time I figure the guy could step in a pile of shit and come out with gold-plated loafers! He gets a free meal, a free upgrade, free drinks and snacks, a free room, and now he's going to International Convention in Denver in July! Meanwhile, I see that, indeed, the Detroit-Oakland Chapter, the chorus we're both in, came in 3^rd – as expected.

Oh well. Being no worse off than I had expected, I decide to ride the coattails of his exuberance, and enjoy myself! We head to the chapter dinner, eat, and Lou heads off to get ready for Macomb's opening of the quartet finals show. I spend the remaining time between watching Star Trek in the hotel room, checking e-mail & MySpace in the Concierge Lounge, popping in for Macomb's 2^nd performance, and watching a few quartets on the TV outside the auditorium. Lou joins me after his performance, I grab my ukulele, and we meander the lobby occasionally watching quartets on the tube.

After the quartet finals is when the fun begins…

Each chapter generally reserves a room as their "hospitality room" for after the quartet finals contest. Here they offer munchies and drinks to entice quartets and general members alike to socialize and celebrate a job well done for all.

As a registered and organized (well, sorta) quartet, Coda Honor planned to do the tour of the rooms. After Macomb's props, snowballs, trees and such had been loaded, Floyd, Mike, Lou and I got together and decided that we didn't want to diminish the other quartets by stepping on their toes or being too presumptuous, so we opted to simply perform for our own chorus's hospitality rooms. We started at Detroit-Oakland.

We did well, selling our best renditions of "I Been Workin' on the Railroad", "Where Is Love", and the ever overdone "Coney Island Baby". We sold it well and sounded good, despite the fact that my voice was on a downward spiral with the cold's steady encroachment on my entire being. I started to feel a bit lethargic, so grabbed some snacks, popped another vitamin C capsule, and bade the quartet to press on! Damn the torpedoes! Full steam ahead! I begin strumming my ukulele and croaking out a few tunes as we wander. We eventually pick up with a guy from Mt. Pleasant's chorus named Ian, a 1^st year 'shopper, and hung with him on and off for most of the rest of the night.

We went to Macomb's room. Again, a decent performance. These guys had heard us more than Detroit-Oakland, but enjoyed it nonetheless. We need some new material, though. 13 songs – mostly polecats (standards every barbershopper knows) – is not a good repertoire for a quartet together a year-and-a-half.

From there we kinda split up a bit. Mike and Floyd were getting tired and were staying at another hotel, so they took off. Lou and I hung together pretty much the rest of the night. We stopped by Mt. Pleasant's room, which was small, sparsely populated…but they had beer. Domestic, but beer none the less. ;) We listened to a few members running through some of the chorus repertoire. They do some REAL stuff! I was very impressed – and they weren't even an organized quartet! Then Border Crossing came in and gave a great performance for the small group of about 7 or 8 of us. Then, it was off to the lobby.

As Lou and I moved around the hallways, I played a few tunes on the ol' uke, and we met up with Ian again. We sang songs and tags for hours on end. Ian, Lou and I talked for about a half hour about Weird Al, marching band, and other things that exemplify all things completely dorky.

From my spot on the main lobby floor, I noticed Andy Wickstrom and the bass and bari from Keynotes leaning over the 2^nd floor railing surveying the scene and chatting. Barely having ANY voice left at that point and being on my 5^th beer, I recalled that their tenor was in Las Vegas with his wife at the Sweet Adelines International Convention. I pointed at them, shouting, "You need a tenor!" I then darted up the escalator and began singing songs I knew and woodshedding ones I didn't. Oddly enough, I probably sounded the best of the night when my voice was at its worst.

After that, it was about 2:30. I had had a ridiculously full 2 days, the cold was finally catching up with me, and my voice was just plain done. As much as I would have loved to stay up all night singing, my voice, not to mention the rest of me, simply wouldn't handle it, so I headed to the room. Lou was just settling in, so I grabbed us each a final beer from the few I brought with me.

I drank half the beer, turned off the TV and drifted off to sleep on my adjustable Sleep Number bed in my Concierge Level room, thoroughly contented in a wonderful weekend of music, fraternity, fun, and immersing myself entirely in the 10th level of total and complete Geektitude.

Next – Pioneer District Barbershop Convention (the Tag)…

Pioneer District Barbershop Convention (introduction)

Before I begin, I'd like so send a hearty congratulations to all of the Sweet Adelines who competed last weekend in Las Vegas for the Sweet Adelines International Convention. Way to go gals! If any of you won big at the casinos, I want a cut!

The following is a recap of my weekend in Kalamazoo at the Pioneer District Fall Convention of the Barbershop Harmony Society.

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It's Monday – 2 days after the festivities ended – and I'm still hoarse.

Barbershop conventions exemplify the reason most men get into barbershopping for one reason or another.

For those competitively driven, it's a chance to get out there with your chorus or quartet (or simply cheer on your favorite chorus or quartet) in contest.

For those driven to improve as barbershoppers and vocalists, it's a chance to have your performance evaluated and critiqued by top (though some would question that, I'm sure) professionals in their field and genre.

For those in it to simply ring chords and nail some tunes, there are a plethora of opportunities to do so with other barbershoppers from all locations, professions and walks of life.

For those just looking to have a great time with the guys, meet people from all over, drink lots of beer, tell bad jokes, and talk about 'guy' things – there's a ton of that, too.

Friday…

Getting started to any of these conventions is always the toughest part. There are inevitably a million and one things I have to accomplish before leaving. If it's not work obligation, it's chores at home I promised to complete before leaving or a financial obligation I have to meet first (like coming up with the money to afford the trip in the first place). This convention was no different.

The day started at 7am with having to wake up and get Liam off to school. From there, I had to head to the bank and check my balance to be sure I wouldn't go into the red paying for stuff. Luckily, the lead of my quartet and best friend, Lou, had offered to absorb the cost on my share of the room (which became, thankfully, irrelevant…read on), so I only had to worry about gas and food.

I went to the bank and called a client I have been grooming for a fund-raiser with Morley-Red Apple, who I have just started to work with. We needed to get the contract signed, so after heading home to organize and fill out the necessary paperwork as Sonya and Courtney slept, it was off to Monroe (about a 45 minute drive) to get it signed. After not quite having everything I needed, I left with no contract yet, and headed home to hopefully see a movie with my wife before having to head to a band rehearsal at 3.

Unfortunately, there were no showings of Man of the Year in the timeframe we could fit, so Sonya decided to pay a visit to our good friend, who was recovering from a (thankfully VERY successful) surgery. I hadn't gotten the impression that she was expecting me to come along, and since I had to gather my quartet clothes, tux, black dress shoes, pitch pipe, toiletries, etc., I told her to go ahead and I'd gather while watching Courtney.

At 2:30, I load up my car and drive over to drop Courtney and head to marching band practice. I feel a cold coming on, but stand there in the cold and damp, toughing it out. At 5, I head to work at Blockbuster. I call Sonya just to check in, and apparently she wasn't expecting to just not see me till Sunday, so I agree to stop by after work for a bit before heading to Kalamazoo.

Work was dead, what with the Tigers playing the 'A's. Aside from a smattering of baseball widows, and some kids, there wasn't much point to my presence. I get a call about an hour in from Lou, bragging that due to a mix-up with the reservation, we were bumped up to the 'Concierge Level', and he was enjoying a few free drinks at the lounge. A simple mention of having things to do tonight and I was let go at 8:30. I headed home to talk with Sonya. After sitting for about an hour and a half, I started to get antsy. She picked up on this and slowly, but grudgingly, let me go.

2 ½ hours and seemingly interminable miles of I-94 construction later, I pull into Kalamazoo. I grab my accoutrements and truck through the overpass to the hotel lobby. As soon as I open the door, I hear the faint sounds of ringing chords. "Yup, this must be the place!" I rush down the escalator to the lobby piano surrounded with barbershoppers. Before I even get my tux thrown over the arm of a nearby chair, I'm ringing tags with people from all over Michigan! God, I LOVE conventions!

I check in and give Lou a call, waking him up from his "nap" and head up the room. I plopped my stuff down and practically itching with excitement, TOLD Lou we were heading to the lobby for more tags and songs. We stayed up till about 2, bouncing between a drink at the hotel pub and singing in the lobby. About 2am, we decide to hit the hay, so we can be of some use at the 8am rehearsal.

Pioneer District Barbershop Convention (prologue)

Coordinating a trip to a barbershop convention is always a hassle for me. Between getting the time off work, coming up with the funds for the gas, food, registration, hotel, and other odds and ends, and of course clearing it with my dear, understanding (actually in this case, grudgingly complacent) wife, getting there can be a huge headache.

Sonya used to roll her eyes and tolerate my drum corps addiction with a forced smirk and pitying, yet loving shake of her head. She did so largely, I think, because at least she could relate to it, appreciate it, and even enjoy it a bit, having been in one. She could go to shows, watch the guard, critique the drill, appreciate the difficulty in the brass book, etc. She just didn't have the kind of mania I developed.

As the years went on past my aging out at 21, my involvement and immersion in drum corps faded in a bit. I'd go to fewer and fewer shows as time progressed and I became further removed from the activity – both in performance, judging, and instruction. Then at 27, I discovered my newest addiction and finally joined the Society for the Preservation and Encouragement of Barbershop Quartet Singing in America (now simply the Barbershop Harmony Society).

"Great," I can hear her aggravatingly sigh. "Another hobby/addiction to sap his time and money!"

Sonya has no real affinity for barbershop. She, as a musician, can appreciate it for its difficulty, performance demands, and emotion. She can even, after observing my drum corps mania for so many years, understand the appeal it has to me, having many similar characteristics (i.e. competition, music, camaraderie, and a chance for me to shine). But being an inherently patriarchal scene (when not incorporating the Sweet Adelines) and not relating well with the primarily 60-plus- year-old housewives of my fellow chorus members, she never really got into it. She has a beautiful voice, but unfortunately rarely sings in public. All of this combined with the fact that when I'm in one of my maniacal frenzies, totally immersed in one of my favorite things, I have a bad habit of ignoring all else and wandering off, making it hard for her to really enjoy joining me at events.

Thankfully, she tolerates it for my sake - in short bursts, anyway. She'll listen occasionally to my quartet when we rehearse in our home, even offering very helpful suggestions with our performance (and telling us which jokes just plain suck). She'll even put up with my playing barbershop music on rides in my car (that's more the rule of 'my car, my tunes' we both generally respect). Hopefully someday soon I'll join a chorus with a younger crowd with younger wives and families my family can better relate to.

I love you, Sonya. Thank you for enduring my hobbies, idiosyncrasies, quirks and bad habits!

Entemology, Pet Peeves and attempting to Define Friendship...

Updated 10/11/06....

The following blog contains sentiments and personal interpretations I have long-held as personal truths. While the inspiration for this blog was based on recent events in my life, I have come to realize that I have been guilty of all of these traits, which I claim to abhor, in the context of this same situation. This blog, as it turns out, is as much about my negative traits as anyone else's.

Therefor, while this blog will remain posted (as they are my own beliefs and it is my right to express them) I wish to express my regret for my own actions contrary to them and apologize to anyone whom I have ever hurt by displaying such characteristics.

As a human, I am imperfect, but as an adult, I take reponsibility for my own imperfection and attempt to improve upon myself. That is my choice.

Thank you. Feel free to read on...

REPOSTED 10/8/06...

hy-poc-ri-sy - [hi-POK-ruh-see] -noun, plural -sies.
1. a pretense of having a virtuous character, moral or religious beliefs or principles, etc., that one does not really possess.
2. a pretense of having some desirable or publicly approved attitude.
3. an act or instance of hypocrisy.

This is on the top of my list for a reason. To claim a behavior is wrong, and moreover, to berate and chastise a person for their behavior while being guilty of the same behavior you claim to despise is hypocrisy. I can find no positive or redeeming use of this term. It is based on pretense (pretending or feigning; make-believe) and therefore based in falsehood.

We have all been guilty of it at one time or another, including myself. When I am accused of it, I attempt to acknowledge it and rectify the damage my hypocrisy has done. Mind you, I don't simply mean correcting someone's behavior or pointing out a mistake, it's the indignant (from the Latin, indignus, meaning unworthy) attitude and pretense of never being guilty of the same mistake. It's not so much the hypocrisy itself that bothers me - we all make mistakes and forget our own faults. It's the unwillingness to acknowledge hypocrisy and apologize for it that infuriates me, which brings me to my next pet peeve…

self-right-eous-ness - [self-RAHY-chuh s-nes, self-] -adjective
a state of confidence in one's own righteousness, esp. when smugly moralistic and intolerant of the opinions and behavior of others.

I have no problem with the first part of this definition (confidence in one's own righteousness). To be confident in one's own beliefs is a good thing. It leads to a clear perspective on one's own goals and how to achieve them, as well as defines a person's character and direction in life. The second half of the definition is the part that always leads to trouble, (esp. when smugly moralistic and intolerant of the opinions and behavior of others).

It is this smugly (contentedly confident of one's ability, superiority, or correctness; complacent) moralistic (a person concerned with regulating the morals of others, as by imposing censorship), and intolerant (not tolerating or respecting beliefs, opinions, usages, manners, etc., different from one's own; bigoted) attitude that leads to closed-mindedness, conflict, and hatred. This attitude hurts the hypocrite and the accused by leading to tension and exclusion that may have otherwise been mutually beneficial and satisfying. It closes doors and prevents opportunity.

Now, on a more personal note and only vaguely related…

friend [frend] -noun
1. a person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard.
2. a person who gives assistance; patron; supporter: friends of the Boston Symphony.
3. a person who is on good terms with another; a person who is not hostile: Who goes there? Friend or foe?

More specifically, the use of this word. Now, granted, this term has different meaning to different people. I don't think anyone can argue the primary definition of "friend" (a person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard). However, our expectations of our friends are our own.

We all have different levels of friends - best friend, good friend, friendly acquaintance, colleague, old friend, new friend, red friend, blue friend. It is how these friends fit into these categories, by our own standards and definitions that rank and rate their priority in our lives. I was going to give some idea of how I rank and rate my friends, but besides opening up a whole world of shit and possibly alienating any of them, it changes from day to day as I think about conversations events and the like.

Suffice it to say, I rank family first most of the time and I don't rank friends on what they do FOR me as much as whether they're helpful, honest, understanding, forgiving, open-minded, and have a track record of being there when I absolutely need them to the best of their individual ability. This does not necessarily include those I see most often (hell I barely have time to see my own reflection these days). People are busy and have their own lives to lead and their own set of priorities, and I try not to force MY values and priorities on them. I hold no EXPECTATIONS of my friends and try not to impose on them, if I can avoid it. If I'm not considered as good a friend to someone as I consider them, I don't pine over it.

Regardless, I don't discard a friend. Whether I am discarded is up to them, but I choose never to close a door to someone who may someday bless my life again or whose life I may be able to bless. If you have been my friend - you still are. Infinitives like never, always, and forever, while sentimental and romantic at times, usually close more doors than they open - particularly when used for exclusion.

Okay, after ranting for 3 paragraphs, I've lost my clarity of purpose. My point is that a friend (to me) is not someone that does things for you, but someone who will be there for you in your times of trouble, lift you up however they can, an hopefully have some fun with you along the way. Many of those I consider my dearest friends I have not seen in years and/or only speak with occasionally via e-mail or IM. I have 2 or 3 I consider my 'best friends', and I don't get to see them very often either. Just because we can't coincide schedules and go out for a beer, doesn't mean I don't love them. Just because they're not always in my view doesn't mean they're not always in my heart.

Arguments blow over, tempers cool, individual instances lose their significance in the big picture, but friendship, to me (and pardon my sentimental use of a dreaded infinitive) is forever.

Mi Vida Loca! Part II: My fight with beurocracy and Da Man... (Repost from MySpace)

I am going to be very careful about how I word this, because a wise mentor of mine once said not to put ANYTHING on the internet you don't want someone to find eventually…

Am I crazy, or isn't a university's goal to educate their students, prep them for their careers, and get them OUT WORKING IN THE REAL WORLD?!?!?

I have been going to Wayne State University for 13 years for my bachelor's degree and state certification in music education. I have been a music education student from day 1. I have not changed majors, nor have I ever decided to STOP pursuing my goal of being a certified public school music teacher. I have, admittedly, had several personal bumps along the way that have nothing to do with Wayne State. Marriage, kids (both worth the degree delay), jobs, money troubles, etc., have all made this trek towards my BA and certification a slow and arduous process.

As of late, however, it seems that the powers that be at good ol' WSU have decided to completely block any and all attempts for me to accomplish said goal.

4 years ago, I was anticipating graduating in Spring 2004 – roughly 6 years behind most of my classmates. This didn't disturb me much, as I didn't have the benefit of rich parents, a trust fund, or significant financial aid. However, since delving headfirst into my courses and attempting to plow through my degree at as close to full speed as my schedule, life, and finances allow, Wayne State has managed to come up with about every speed bump and obstacle they can find to prevent it.

There have been mysterious, unspecified complaints about my classroom behavior resulting in my transfer from my practicum assignment without explanation or appeal, course requirements that have changed mid-stream, lost paperwork and the like constantly popping up and further postponing my graduation, and now the biggest blockade – my private lessons.

I have about 2 semesters of classes to take to graduate, excluding lessons. I need 8 semesters of a 'C' or better to graduate. I have 4, despite having taken and paid for 8 so far. I took lessons with Ron Kischuk back in da day (93-95), and always passed with a 'C' or 'B'. He was a nice, easy goin' jazz player. Comfortable to work with and fun to discuss methods with, even if his ego was the size of Wisconsin, I worked well with him and progressed well.

Upon my return to Wayne after a brief financial hiatus, Ron was gone and I was assigned to Ken Thompkins – the lead trombone for the Detroit Symphony. A remarkable player, and a decent enough guy outside the 'biz'. However, from day 1 in lessons, I was constantly made to feel inadequate, unprepared, and above all – a waste of his time.

In college, he was a performance major. All of his students (other than myself) have been performance majors. This requires a level of playing ability I could never hope to achieve, even if I wanted to; a level of dedication to one's playing and a time commitment I could never possess. The world of professional performers is ridiculously competitive and getting more so by the day. These musicians need to be taught and rehearsed to prepare for that world.

I am a music education major. I am a fairly decent trombonist, when properly warmed up, relaxed, and prepared. I have NO plans or aspirations to make a living from playing my horn. I am also NOT a 20-year-old with lots of free time and parents paying my bills and tuition, bailing me out of time and financial difficulty. I am an adult, husband to a busy and working wife, and father of 2 with 3 jobs.

Yet, Ken seems to believe that he should have the same standards and expectations of EVERY student, regardless of their background, current ability, situation, or personal or professional goals. He seems to have no regard for anything his students think, want, or need (aside from occasionally acquiescing to a scheduling change for the lesson). He only has his goals, his standards, his outcome, and his perceptions of how things should be. 'Your graduation – or for that matter, education – is not my concern. If you're a student of mine, you must play to a certain level,' is the only impression or attitude I seem to get from him. Regardless, as much as I hate it and think his expectations and treatment unfair, I was prepared to have to press on if it was the only way to my degree. I would try and see if there were other options, through the department regulations and proper hierarchy and chain of command.

Back in May, my dear wife, Sonya, attempted to contact my old teacher, Ron, to see if there was a way for me to take lessons with him over the summer and have them credited toward my degree. This used to be a possibility in the early 90's, provided the teacher was approved by the department. He imparted that he would be on staff at Wayne again and I may be able to take lessons with him again. I never said word 1 to Ron Kischuk. This was all done as a surprise birthday present for me.

Since then, the word has circulated around the department that I am a renegade, trying to usurp the system and weasel my way out of the credits by going behind everyone's back. By rumor, conjecture, and hearsay, they have determined that I will not follow the rules, and therefor they will make it that much harder for me to graduate because of it. Yet, no one asked me to explain, confronted me with the situation or said a single thing to me. I only heard a rumor from a friend and colleague that I wasn't very popular with the department right now.

As if this unfounded resentment and treatment of me weren't enough, a new development has made the idea of lessons with Ken, quite simply, impossible.

I was selling a euphonium on Ebay for a friend. He had no Ebay account and my Ebay rating was good. It was a Willson – a very nice, professional horn. He eventually sold it to one of his old students and had me pull the listing. The next day, Ken sent an e-mail to one of the salesmen at the music store I work at, asking why I was selling a Hirsbrunner (not a Willson) euphonium on Ebay and why I suddenly pulled it.

Hirsbrunner is one of the brands the store I work at sells exclusively. There is no other place to get, and more to the point, no way I could afford it. Naturally, this made my boss suspicious, and I was called away from a band camp to explain myself. I explained it was NOT a Hirsbrunner, but a Willson, and it was for a friend, even going so far as to print out and SHOW them the listing and give my friend's number. Situation over, thankfully, at work.

Never the less, Ken's lie (pardon me - factual inaccuracy) nearly got me fired, and quite possible worse had I not had the evidence that Ken's information was inaccurate. Why he LIED to my BOSS about a situation that clearly would at least result in getting me fired, if not arrested, and was CLEARLY out of the scope of his role as a teacher, I won't (publicly) presume. Regardless, it was unprofessional. I will bit my tongue and take lessons from a teacher I don't like if it means my degree, but I WILL NOT take lessons from someone who almost caused, through deceit or misinformation the loss of my livelihood.

I don't enjoy my lessons with Ken. After several semesters with him, and by his own account, I don't seem to progress with him. At this point, I loathe and resent my lessons with him, which makes progress even more unattainable. I don't enjoy dreading every hour I spend under his disapproving glare, critical sighs, overwhelming workload, and contemptuous attitude. I don't enjoy wasting the credit fees, registration fees, and departmental fees semester after semester while I get no closer to my degree. In my entire tenure with Ken, I have passed his course only once – when he wasn't there for the jury. Despite this, I was willing to keep trying, if that's all I could do. Now, however, I will not accept him as my teacher. If it means transferring to another university after 13 years and re-taking several classes, so be it.

More on the Music Department's response to this situation to come...