This is how much I love Rivier!
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Friday, May 25, 2012
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
African drumming ensembles
Just a reminder that if you'd like to be part of an African drumming ensemble for our concert on June 6th, please sign up on the sheet that will be posted on my homeroom door (7C). It looks like we'll be performing "Luba" and our own composition based on the base pattern of "Marketplace."
Jazz choir recordings
Hi ladies. Your "Can You Feel the Love Tonight" recordings are ready - they're just individual tracks of the piano playing each part, Soprano 1 through Alto 2 on 4 separate tracks. If you need to use a recording for practice, bring me a USB sometime soon and I'll transfer your track over to you.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Pokarekare Ana
Senior Choir - check this out. Such a nice (and different) arrangement of Pokarekare Ana. Beautiful!
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
African drumming tutorial
Here are a couple drum ensemble tutorials that we can use as a model for our performance at the final concert on June 6th. These are very beginner ensembles, so we could take these parts and embellish them, add other rhythms, auxiliary percussion, etc. Check them out!
If you're interested in playing in an African drumming ensemble for our concert, please leave me a comment here. I'll also post a sign-up sheet on my 7C door tomorrow. This will be fun, and a perfect fit for our "Around the World" theme!
If you're interested in playing in an African drumming ensemble for our concert, please leave me a comment here. I'll also post a sign-up sheet on my 7C door tomorrow. This will be fun, and a perfect fit for our "Around the World" theme!
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Funky shoes with uniform day!
Check out 7C's fancy footwear today! Looking good, ladies!
Inspired by yesterday's beautiful weather (+28!) Taylor and I figured we should have a Beach Party spirit day next year. What do you think? Sounds delightful to me!
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Bobby the original
I don't usually post something so personal on my teacher blog, but I felt compelled tonight to share something with you. Many of you know that a week and a half ago I lost one of the most amazing men in my life, my grandpa Orris Steinburg, or "Bobby" as he was referred to by my sister and me. Anyone who knew my grandpa would have known him as a gentle, kind, and witty man. An artist. A musician. A family man. The most gentle and sweet guy you've ever known. The kind of man that cried at the end of "The Little Mermaid" when King Triton sent Ariel away to be with Eric because he knew that she loved him, even though it was hard for him to let go as a father. That kind of guy. A total softie.
So today I put on my new "Happy Hat" because I was on Face Time with my mom and I thought I'd show her. I took a picture of me wearing it, then edited it online. The quote that I put on it reads "You were born an original... don't die a copy."
And then it struck me. You know who was an original his whole life? Bobby. The use of those art terms is also so fitting for someone who painted for his whole life too... right up until almost the day he died. I had done some abstract painting with him when I went to visit in February. I wanted some "Lauren and Bobby" originals to hang on the wall of my jacuzzi bathroom in my new (perpetual renovation-zone) house. He had never done it before, but at age 85 he decided to give it a shot. We bonded over our painting sessions in his studio, he gave me tips on how to blend the colours and where to put other colours to balance the whole thing out. Even though he was achy and sore with bone cancer (a diagnosis he had received only a few months prior), he still kept such a positive attitude and helped me out with my project. They now proudly hang in my still-unfinished bathroom, signed on the back in our own handwriting, "Lauren and Bobby." (We also did a little pink one for Avery and Emily, signed "Auntie Lauren and Great Bobby" - seen below.)
When I went to visit him in Hamiota again on March 30th, he asked for help putting a scanned image of a sketch he had just done into Photoshop. Now that I had gotten him on the wavelength of abstract painting, he wanted to experiment with some abstract combined with the realism of the string trio he had just drawn (he was always up for a new challenge or learning something new at any age). So I helped him open his image in Photoshop, and off he went on his new project. And, after our brief but meaningful visit, off I went, back home to Saskatchewan.
After he passed away on April 28th, I immediately took a week off of teaching and drove to Hamiota for the third time in only 2 months. When I arrived there the house was empty - my Auntie Donna, my mom, and my sister Karyn had taken the twins to Brandon for the day and weren't back yet. I walked around the house, just taking it all in. In my grief, everything seemed so still and empty, despite the mess that was left from two busy 18-month-old girls and a house full of people trying to prepare for a funeral. In my wandering, naturally I walked into grandpa's studio, which he affectionately dubbed "Studi-O" for Orris. The sight that greeted me got me instantly choked up. There on his easel was the project he had started, unfinished. Mid-process. As though somehow magically he was going to come around the corner with a handful of freshly-washed brushes and get right back to work on it.
And if that, ladies and gentlemen, isn't the best example you've ever seen of someone doing something they love for their whole life, then I don't know what is. Here is a man who had cancer in every bone in his body, who was widowed twice, and despite all of his hurting he made the most of every day of his life, even right until the very end. I don't think he could have left a more poignant gift than the unfinished musician painting. This will stick with me as one of the best life lessons my grandpa ever taught me.
This man was an "original" for his whole life. He inspired others by just being himself. He did everything he could to make sure that all of the important people in his life knew that he loved them. He came to graduations, musicals, concerts, sporting events... everything. He would tell silly jokes and do funny things to make us laugh. He was never ever a "copy," just the one and only Orrie, Bobby, grandpa. He was an original in every sense of the word.
"You were born an original... don't die a copy." It strikes me now more than ever that even mere days before he died, this man was CREATING another original. If I can take one lesson from his passing, it is to be eternally grateful for all of the blessings that I have in my life, and to keep on doing what I love even in the face of adversity. If I can be half the person that Bobby was, I will be very proud. He was a great man, and the best darn original I've ever known.
So today I put on my new "Happy Hat" because I was on Face Time with my mom and I thought I'd show her. I took a picture of me wearing it, then edited it online. The quote that I put on it reads "You were born an original... don't die a copy."
And then it struck me. You know who was an original his whole life? Bobby. The use of those art terms is also so fitting for someone who painted for his whole life too... right up until almost the day he died. I had done some abstract painting with him when I went to visit in February. I wanted some "Lauren and Bobby" originals to hang on the wall of my jacuzzi bathroom in my new (perpetual renovation-zone) house. He had never done it before, but at age 85 he decided to give it a shot. We bonded over our painting sessions in his studio, he gave me tips on how to blend the colours and where to put other colours to balance the whole thing out. Even though he was achy and sore with bone cancer (a diagnosis he had received only a few months prior), he still kept such a positive attitude and helped me out with my project. They now proudly hang in my still-unfinished bathroom, signed on the back in our own handwriting, "Lauren and Bobby." (We also did a little pink one for Avery and Emily, signed "Auntie Lauren and Great Bobby" - seen below.)
When I went to visit him in Hamiota again on March 30th, he asked for help putting a scanned image of a sketch he had just done into Photoshop. Now that I had gotten him on the wavelength of abstract painting, he wanted to experiment with some abstract combined with the realism of the string trio he had just drawn (he was always up for a new challenge or learning something new at any age). So I helped him open his image in Photoshop, and off he went on his new project. And, after our brief but meaningful visit, off I went, back home to Saskatchewan.
After he passed away on April 28th, I immediately took a week off of teaching and drove to Hamiota for the third time in only 2 months. When I arrived there the house was empty - my Auntie Donna, my mom, and my sister Karyn had taken the twins to Brandon for the day and weren't back yet. I walked around the house, just taking it all in. In my grief, everything seemed so still and empty, despite the mess that was left from two busy 18-month-old girls and a house full of people trying to prepare for a funeral. In my wandering, naturally I walked into grandpa's studio, which he affectionately dubbed "Studi-O" for Orris. The sight that greeted me got me instantly choked up. There on his easel was the project he had started, unfinished. Mid-process. As though somehow magically he was going to come around the corner with a handful of freshly-washed brushes and get right back to work on it.
And if that, ladies and gentlemen, isn't the best example you've ever seen of someone doing something they love for their whole life, then I don't know what is. Here is a man who had cancer in every bone in his body, who was widowed twice, and despite all of his hurting he made the most of every day of his life, even right until the very end. I don't think he could have left a more poignant gift than the unfinished musician painting. This will stick with me as one of the best life lessons my grandpa ever taught me.
This man was an "original" for his whole life. He inspired others by just being himself. He did everything he could to make sure that all of the important people in his life knew that he loved them. He came to graduations, musicals, concerts, sporting events... everything. He would tell silly jokes and do funny things to make us laugh. He was never ever a "copy," just the one and only Orrie, Bobby, grandpa. He was an original in every sense of the word.
"You were born an original... don't die a copy." It strikes me now more than ever that even mere days before he died, this man was CREATING another original. If I can take one lesson from his passing, it is to be eternally grateful for all of the blessings that I have in my life, and to keep on doing what I love even in the face of adversity. If I can be half the person that Bobby was, I will be very proud. He was a great man, and the best darn original I've ever known.
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