Let me start, though, with reflection. Because in the course of the last few days, I have wondered if I should perhaps take stock. And think about, for instance, this: isn’t it the case that academic excellence demands a high degree of concentration and rigor? An intellectual preoccupation with the Task At Hand, which most certainly does not include sidetracking in support of the karaoke trade and the booming tequila industry (no offense, t mockingbird…besides, I think you’ve fallen asleep), on a Thursday night no less? (In my defense, it was the only conflict-free night for the group.)
If so, then I most certainly should step back and engage in a deconstructionist-type* foray into my evening with my beloved Torts law school small section (I insert the word beloved in part because they are such and in part because I do not remember the number of the section, never having had to register for this class myself). For, what good is an author’s (mine, in this case) intention when a different (conflicting?) reality may be picked up from less generously interpreted renditions of the evening?
Let me review things, with aid of a photo or two (thank you, oh finder of camera!) though for now only of myself, as I believe in privacy rights and will not post anything with student faces unless I have their enthusiastic permission to do so.
Thursday. It seems ages ago. I arrived early at Casa B, making sure that the table was set with fine linens and china. In the alternative, paper plates and plastic cups. It’s all in how you read what’s before you.
I had taken a poll earlier on pizza toppings. I was relieved that the vote for pineapple could go unheeded as the unfortunate student-advocate of it fell victim to a horrible case of something or other and could not attend. What remained speaks for itself:
And really, that is the end of the text. The official evening is over, we move now to an epilogue, written by a dozen-plus hardy souls who were determined to pour out their sentiments about work, life and American Pie at the Karoke Kid. I offered to pay for all songs sung, so yes, I admit it, I was an enabler, the ghost writer, as it were. Of course, my European upbringing and exaggerated sense of politeness and protocol did cause me to say “yes, thank you” to beverages purchased by others. How could it be otherwise.
But now that I look at the entirety, from the perspective of time and with the aid of the pictures, I think it is principally my participation in the performance side of things that lacked proper decorum. Because otherwise, only one interpretation held true for everyone: they all behaved extraordinarily well. On the other hand, looking at the photos now, what can be said of a person who, while on stage, looked slightly twisted and off balance, like this:
What lessons then? Perhaps I can eek one out: maybe I should seriously contemplate toning down the exaggerated movements, the gestures, the wild eyes, the loud enunciation of words, ones which could easily be heard even in a less spirited rendition.
I’ll have to remember that when next I am on stage. At the Kid, or in the classroom.
*(independently, you must check out my favorite deconstructionist, who is, BTW, running a marathon today and who has engaged me on the topic of runners' sensitive body issues in the comments here)
Reading the accounts of the social gathering with your first year students is making me feel stodgy. I hosted an event for my students too. We had pizza and wholesome game playing too, but no tequila. Well, actually, there wasn't any alcohol at all. Maybe next time.
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ReplyDeleteIn regards to drinking: Nina, this is positively tame compared to how it was when I was a student at UNC in Greeley, Colorado in 1982. I took a course as a freshman which was like 404 Poetry of the Beat Generation. We took the final exam a week early and had a party during finals week instead. It was held at Professor Jim Doyle's house. We played Charades with enormous movie titles. I don't remember food. I remember wine, bottles and bottles of it. I remember some woman friend's teeth smiling from ear to ear, and they were burgundy stained. On another ocassion I got to met Galway Kinnell there when he hosted the reception at his home! I remember Jim passing out seated on his couch, leaning or clasping onto a table lamp. I thought it an illuminating image that would last. What a guy! Had all us prodigious drinkers into his home talking spiritedly on into the night until the next morning. I'd never experienced anything like that! He provided a glimpse of excess in the pursuit of knowledge and experience beyond academia, provoked near violent introspection and questioning whether or not any of us had what it took to excell in that particular field. It was like he had led us to a springboard in a dark, deserted swimming pool and bade us jump in or go home and forget about poetry.
ReplyDeleteI am amused that commenters have picked up on the drinking theme (recalling their own encounters or lack there of with this on campus), even though this post is really about karaoke singing.
ReplyDeleteI do agree that having drinks while doing karaoke is not a tremendously daring activity -- and I think this is as it should be. It is hard enough to fight the image of this campus being a "party school." I certainly would not want to contribute to that reputation.
However, pizza, followed by karaoke, once in the course of the semester seems hardly excessive. Even if I did sing too loudly and gestured too much in the course of it all.
Love the pictures!! The pizza looks great, except the pineapple is no where to be found!! Trust me, next time our group goes out, I'm making you expand your horizons and try it--once you do you just might never go back!! :)
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