Professional tweakery

I teach in a small studio in a different part of the city from my house one day a week. I’ve been teaching there for years, probably twelve or so. I’d have to go back and look it up. Recently, the management decided to put a piano in my very small room. It’s now fairly unworkable for two cellos. There are various choices to be made, including swapping to a different day in that location. Considering all the scheduling implications of doing so, I am staggered by how one person’s action can impact so many other people, in ways that are intended and so many ways that are not. This is only one small example, but if I do change days, it will mean moving six students’ lessons, one of our two nannies’ schedules, the days we cook, do laundry, clean, and open mail, and how much my daughters see me on the other day. That’s a total of twelve people affected, but of course it’s more, because there are all the families of my students too. The manager forgot that I was in the room in question, but says he is unable to put things back the way they were. So, my choices are to inconvenience another teacher (with whom I swapped rooms today, just to try it out), to attempt to teach in a room that’s too small, or to change days. We will arrive at a compromise solution, of course, but I am not yet sure which one is the best. Further research is necessary.


Coming in from a walk this morning, Hazel brought me fallen petals from a camellia bush in our neighborhood. They’re sitting on the shelf next to my chair. When she brought them in she asked, “Do you like pink?” I said, “Yes, I like pink in nature. I love the pink roses we planted in our garden.” And that is true. There are some colors I like much better in nature. And some colors that just don’t seem to be replicable in clothing or other created objects, like certain shades of the late evening sky, that incredible, rich blue whose depth seems unending. I have decided that it is perfectly fine for Hazel to rebel, and it is also perfectly fine for me to stick to my chosen boundaries.


Tomorrow, I hope, I’ll be able to get back to my writing crowd. I’ve missed two weeks in a row. I’m looking forward to seeing them all again, and to working on my own personal project.


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