Oldcontroller's Blog

A few weeks ago the boss signed up for a graduate course in music. From Liberty University. Online courses. From a “college” that is interested only in money. Because… a graduate degree in music? For a guy whose undergraduate degree is in religious studies (from the same online university, natch)? Who has never in his life had any formal musical education and can’t read music?

Seriously?

Yup. He told me the criteria included an either/or thing — either an undergraduate degree in music, or 10 years as a worship pastor.

He’s done 10 years as a worship pastor. It was strumming a guitar and singing along with YouTube videos as practice. He uses chord charts. But he can’t read music. He also told me when he took the placement test he called our pianist and asked her to help him with some of the questions. And some of the questions even she couldn’t answer.

But, because this “college” likes money more than anything else, apparently, they signed him up (as soon as his credit card was verified). Oh, by the way, the church is reimbursing him for the expenses. The church is paying for this online degree.

So, Tuesday afternoon before last I was on my knees in the back hallway cleaning out choir folders when he came blipping down the hallway from the office with a couple sheets of paper in his hand. He said, “I need your help with something. I’m out of my depth.”

I did not say, “Yeah, since about the middle of November,” even if I was thinking it. He handed me the sheets and said it was his first assignment for the class he was taking and he needed help. On each sheet of paper was an excerpt from a Bach chorale. Just a few measures. His assignment was to analyze them.

Now, I’ve been taking a music theory class from my professional pianist friend for a bit over a year. I’ve learned a lot. Chords and triads are something we’ve recently gotten into, although I’m just at the beginning of it. So I was able to analyze… one measure. And got stuck. We ended up at the piano in the choir room, where I explained how to figure out a key signature when there are sharps (we didn’t discuss flats — they’re easier but it wasn’t what he needed to know right then and he’s not a patient person). I also briefly touched on minor keys in relation to major keys (that the relative minor is three half steps below the major, although what I should have said was that the relative minor is the sixth scale step in the major scale — it’s more accurate but it might have made his head explode). Anyway, I wasn’t able to help much. After a few minutes he took the sheets back and scurried away. And I went back to work on the choir folders.

By the way — I’d printed out those sheets for him. He emailed them to me (I guess he doesn’t have a printer at home, or can’t figure out how to connect his Mac to the office printer) and had me print out 3 copies. So I had the files in my email inbox. And printed them out again so I could take them with me to my music theory lesson that afternoon.

My friend looked them over, was flabbergasted that he was actually trying to figure that stuff out, that it was very advanced and as it was beyond me it was well beyond him. She did show me a few things, talked about passing and neighboring notes (which we’re getting into in the next lesson) and introduced the term “Picardy third.” I have no idea what it means.

Since then the boss has said he’s spoken to someone at the “college” and they’ve shifted the track he’s on. That he’s going to focus on ministry, or something. Because clearly a graduate degree in music is unrealistic for him.

Go figure.

My husband keeps telling me (as do other people) that I’ve got job security. That this guy needs me to explain music and how to direct and what the notes mean and how to count…. It’s just that he should already know how to do all this. He shouldn’t need me to explain any of this. That I have to is, frankly, appalling. Our music program is large and sophisticated — and our music leader doesn’t know what he’s doing, music-wise.

God’s got it, I know. This is part of His plan. But from my puny human perspective, I cannot see how, short of a miracle on par with Moses parting the Red Sea, this is going to work out without a complete catastrophe.

By the way — this past Wednesday, choir rehearsal was remarkably sparsely attended. I’m hoping it was just because it was extremely cold, that people didn’t want to come out of their houses. And not because the slide downward into disaster has started.

So, let me tell you what the last couple days of this work week included for me.

Wednesday the boss asked for help with the anthem the choir is singing this Sunday. I’d spent some time last week explaining the chart to him — notations, counting, etc. This Wednesday he wanted to go over it again. And I was explaining note values (again) and the choral part as well, including when the different sections came in (when they’re not all singing the same thing). I’d point to the music and say something like, “The women are singing here, then they hold this note for six beats. The guys come in here — no, you don’t want to cut anybody off, they’re still singing, they hold the note. The guys come in here and sing and then the women cut off here — no, the guys are still singing, see, they hold the note until the third beat of the next measure….”

I still can’t quite wrap my brain around the decision to hire as our music leader a guy who doesn’t read music.

During rehearsal that evening he insisted on directing the piece. I told him the choir wouldn’t need directing, they knew it, it was okay, he didn’t have to guide them. But he insisted. So when he got confused, and it happened several times, because he was up in front of everybody waving his hands around like he was giving them guidance, when he floundered so did they. I hope he just leaves them alone during the service, but I’d be astounded if he did.

Thursday afternoon when I came in, he bopped into my office and asked if I’d be willing to proof-read a paper he had to write for his class. I agreed — and checked only spelling and punctuation. There were some glaring verbiage issues — a repeated word, misspelled words, a misused word — and I corrected those as well. What I did not address, as it isn’t my place to, was the paragraph structure (loose, occasionally), the occasional run-on sentence, and the overall slap-dash feel of the thing. Not my responsibility. I also didn’t check his sources, that’s what he’s supposed to do. I told my flute trio mates about this newest gig this afternoon and was told that if he doesn’t get a good grade on the paper, he’ll blame me. Well, I hope not. But if he does it’ll be the last time I proof-read anything for him. That is definitely not in my job description and I can prove it.

I wonder why he didn’t have his wife proof-read it for him. She’d have had the option of being more brutal. Might have hurt his feelings, but it would have helped the paper and therefore his grade. Oh, well. Not my problem.

Tuesday and Thursday morning I volunteered down at the Crisis Closet, a place next to United Ministries that distributes clothing to needy folks. Tuesday is cleaning and arranging day, Thursday is distribution day. Thursday morning another choir member was there helping out and we had a brief conversation about the new guy. I found out from her that the choir has absolutely figured out that he doesn’t know what he’s doing. And she’s worried about the Singing Christmas Tree, too.

So at least I’m not alone. Not that that helps, or anything. *sigh*

This is just a griping post, venting my spleen, grousing.

Most of the time, me and the two ladies who work in the church office get along fine. They’re nice people, we try to accommodate each other, everybody’s got to use the one and only copier/printer/scanner we have, so cooperation is essential.

They don’t much care about the music program. Nor should they; it’s not their problem. The woman who had this job before me told me that. It annoyed her. Until today, it didn’t annoy me.

The boss had me order a large amount of music for the choir. Octavos, collection books, CD’s, orchestrations. Big bucks. Can’t remember how much exactly but if it wasn’t $1,000 it was close. Music is expensive. We also ordered materials for the children’s musical which is scheduled for early April. The kids’ choirs need to get to work on that as quickly as possible. The nice lady at Lifeway told me the ordered materials should arrive within the next week. So they should have been here last week. Some of the stuff showed up. Most of it didn’t. I’m very busy so I wasn’t particularly concerned until one of the women who leads one of the children’s choirs asked me last night before choir rehearsal where the material was.

So this afternoon when I went in, after working on a few other things, I motored out to the front office and asked if they’d seen it. They looked baffled, then said maybe it was in the library in the literature closet. There was a bunch of stuff ordered that came in and they store it all in there until somebody named Michael can come in and review it to figure out where it goes. I got the key and went to check.

The closet was pretty full, mostly of what’s probably small groups and Bible studies material. Also, sure enough, our music order. Two boxes full of octavos, CDs, collection books, and children’s musical materials. Here’s the kicker — on the label of both boxes was my former boss’ name, the word “Music” and my name.

Why didn’t they just tell me it had arrived? The boxes were heavy, but if they didn’t want to schlep them into my office all they had to do was tell me they were here. I’d have carried them. I had to do that anyway, although because they were located two buildings over I had to do it a much longer distance.

I can only assume they couldn’t be bothered to read the labels and didn’t care that anyone’s planning and preparation was waiting on its arrival.

Sheez. And thanks, church office ladies. From now on I’ll remember to either check the labels myself or ask for the key to the library and literature room so I can follow up myself.

Now if the roles were reversed, I’d have walked out of work today with my head in one hand and what was left of my self-esteem in the other.

Life ain’t fair. Deal.

I had a conversation with the boss a couple days ago. I broached the topic of kicking people out of the choir who can’t sing well enough to suit him (I didn’t actually put it that way). Asked him how he was going to do that. Turns out he had no intention of ousting anyone who is already in the choir. At least, I think that’s what he said. We still have communication difficulties — he says one thing, means another, frequently forgets what he said and/or what I told him. He’s a bit young for Alzheimer’s. I suspect he has focus issues.

Anyway, he said for people who wanted to join the choir he was going to hold “vocal interviews.” Like he’s doing for the Praise Team. I said, “Auditions.” He said, “No, vocal interviews. We’re calling them vocal interviews.”

I pointed out that he could call them anything he wanted, people would hear “Auditions.” Because that’s what they are. And then he used a phrase that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

“The party line,” he said, “is that they’re vocal interviews.”

I’m old enough to remember when “the party line” meant evil. The communist party line, the socialist party line. When I hear “party line” I hear, “I’m about to lie to you, get ready.” There are a lot of people in the choir who are as old as me, many who are older, and they’re going to hear the same thing I did.

I asked him if he remembered the get-together we had out at someone’s property back in November, a mass gathering of the choir and musicians. In which, among other things, there was a question-and-answer period. Someone (I can’t recall who) asked him point-blank if he was going to hold auditions for the choir. His answer was an unequivocal and emphatic, “No.”

He didn’t remember. But having been reminded, and he should realize that the other members will remember, he decided perhaps auditioning people for the worship choir wasn’t going to float.

He’s pressing ahead with Praise Team auditions — excuse me, “vocal interviews” — but that’s fine. People expect that.

Let me tell you what I spent quite a bit of time (that I didn’t have) yesterday afternoon, while we’re talking about boss and work stuff. I was wading through music for Sunday trying to get things ready when he stuck his head in my office and said he needed help. So I climbed over the stack of stuff I was working on and went into his office. And spent about 20 minutes (I didn’t actually look at my watch to be sure, but it seemed at least that long) helping him sort through “The Majesty and Glory of Your Name.” He was playing the DVD and reading the octavo, sort of. And writing beats on each measure. 1-2-3-4. Sometimes 1-2 and 3-4. Sometimes other rhythms. So he could figure out how to count things.

Because he doesn’t read music. I may have mentioned that before.

During choir rehearsal the choir didn’t actually need his help. We’ve sung it before. Well, it’s not “we” anymore, is it? I’m in the freakin’ balcony on Sundays, because he won’t let me sing in the choir.

Sorry. The choir didn’t need his help. He sort of flailed his way through it. And also through Chris Tomlin’s “Amazing Grace (My Chains Are Gone)”. During which one member, a singer and leader of singing groups who’s been reading music forever and knows what she’s doing, asked a question about rhythm in one measure. He was directing it wrong. The choir was therefore singing it wrong, since that’s what he was telling them to do. She pointed it out. He flapped around a bit, but the bottom line is that when they sing the piece they’ll be singing that measure wrong.

*sigh* Oh, well.

I attended a meeting of a local woman’s music club yesterday. The flute trio played for them. Two of us are members (me and the perfectionist). Afterwards we talked and I told a few of them (including our third trio member) about the boss’ plan to kick people out of the choir if they don’t sing well enough to suit him.

The reaction was unanimous — they were horrified. One of the people I spoke to is the music leader at another (very large) local church. She was very clear that you just don’t do that.

It was revisited again that our worship pastor / music leader doesn’t read music. One of the attendees, this being her first time hearing about that, was astounded that we’d actually hired a guy to run our music program who can’t read music.

*sigh*

I hope he changes his mind about kicking people out of the choir. I’m not sure he understands the repercussions. I suppose it’s possible he does understand and doesn’t care, that he’s got his eye fixed on what appears to him to be a higher purpose. I’m not sure the senior pastor will be so unconcerned, especially as he’s already under fire about the choice. I’d think he wouldn’t want things to get any worse, as he’s going to be the recipient of the blast, for the most part.

This just isn’t going to turn out well. At least not in the short term.