A Glass of Chianti

Saturday, June 18, 2005

The post in which I reveal my biggest character flaw

OK. I know that up to now, loyal readers have been treated to a running feature on how Sarah is pretty average in every way. (I do compensate for this overwhelming averageness by going overboard in my obsessions so at least I'm exceptional in that regard.) There is one thing, however, that I really, really wish I could change about myself.

I check the church bulletin to see at which Mass the children's choir is singing so I don't accidentally end up there.

Now, the people who know me in real life, if they were to find this out, wouldn't be terribly surprised. My fellow band director said to me after watching me teach a sectional that I seemed to be talking to the students like they were my college colleagues. I didn't realize that, at the time, he thought this was a bad strategy. Meh. My kids are smart and in high school. If I thought they were incapable of understanding, I'd change my technique. Additionally, I have a reputation as being a tiny bit of a misanthrope. They know I like my kids, my students, but everyone just kind of assumes that I make an exception for them. I don't, but I can see how my method of teaching can kind of lead them in that direction. In any case, they're wrong. Most of the kids are smarter, and it's just that I like them better than I like my colleagues. ;)

Anyway, the real reason I check the schedule is because I can't stand the clapping that the congregation does for every single word that comes out of the choir's collective mouth. It drives me crazy. I don't think holy thoughts while at Mass with the children's choir. I know that this is something that I need to change. I should just be able to let it go. I know that the people in the church aren't trying to irritate me, but.... I just can't seem to fix it. So, I go to a different Mass. It's a small price, I guess.

Now, this is a character flaw that I know that I will have to eventually fix. I know that I will find myself in church one Sunday watching my own son or daughter sing in the children's choir. I will look fondly at the choir loft and think about how great God's gifts are. I also know that the second the choir director lowers his arms and while the rest of the congregation claps away, I'll be digging my nails into my husband's hand to supress the boiling rage inside my chest.

Of course, my poor children will probably inherit their mother's allergies, terrible eyesight and tone-deafness, so if I'm lucky I won't have to worry about that children's choir thing. ;)