Post by elyzibeth marie alexander on Feb 22, 2009 16:38:19 GMT -5
♥ E L Y Z I B E T H ALEXANDER
Because she knew what the weekend had in store for her, Elyzibeth had promised herself that, instead of using her free periods to entertain herself by playing violin or piano, she would grade papers in the library. The library was far enough down the hall that she would not suddenly have the urge to get up and go to her classroom to "get something," and it was quiet and away from all of the wonderful instruments, so she would not be tempted just by seeing them. She went to the library sometimes to grade papers when she knew she really would not find the chance between then and Monday morning. The only problem with being away from her classroom was the fact that she lost track of time and had the tendency to completely block everything out from her mind; that meant that she sometimes did not hear the bell. It wasn't until the librarian would ask if she had a class that period that the woman actually realized that she had someplace else to be. Hopefully she would hear the bell this time, though.
With a heavy sigh playing about her lips, the aging teacher lowered herself into one of the chairs at a student table. She did not mind being visible by any and all who entered the library; sometimes a distraction from her work was nice because it helped her mind focus more intently upon whatever she was doing when she returned to doing it. Sometimes it could also be bad because it would distract her too long. If she could help it, she would get lost in her work and focus heavily on it so that that did not happen. But that was extremely hard to do when ninety percent of the class had written about Beethoven and Mozart and the other ten percent had written about someone that they liked, like a recent artist who wrote his own songs and music and them went as far as to produce it. Maybe she should start assigning people with famous classical composers, then she'd be able to read what she wanted and not what the students thought was right.
"No Brahms, no Bach, no Rachmaninoff, no Tchaikovsky…What is wrong with these kids?" the woman asked aloud. Though she had spoken softly, more to herself than anyone else, the quiet in the library made it possible that her voice was heard by others wandering around, looking for books. Not many of them had had a formal introduction to the classical artists, but she assumed that they would be intelligent enough to actually research more than just Mozart or Beethoven. What surprised her the most was that no one had written about Bach. There was usually one in the batch of papers that did, but not this one. What a boring and depressing series of reading this will be, she thought with a shake of her head. Despite the fact that it would be boring, to her, the woman set off and started reading about Mozart, or…not Mozart. This person had obviously not bothered to do his research…
