It’s not a true farewell in the sense that I will never practise them again, I am just no longer under obligation to be assessed on them! My school technical assessments are over forever!
Yesterday, I sat my last piano one and today I sat my final violin one. They involved the head of the faculty (or in the case of yesterday’s, the majority of the piano department) sitting, requesting, listening and grading how well you play your scales, arpeggios, double stops and studies. As much as I appreciate not having the next year’s assessments as a burden, I wish I did my last ones better.
And I’m not saying this to try and appear modest, as some people do. To begin with, I had to resist the temptation to laugh in my piano assessment (and I think the teachers noticed that too) after I began playing my unique rendition of a dominant seventh of G major; I started off on the wrong note, and consequently played something completely unrecognisable to common piano knowledge, like a mix of a diminished seventhness with a scramble of pentatonic rubbish. I am not sure how to express this without using musical jargon . . . it’s like dancing ballet in Doc Marten boots or cooking dinner without a saucepan. As ugly, shocking, absurd.
Then the study which followed was pretty much learnt over the weekend.
I am not complaining or moaning about how badly I played, because I know it’s not really important in the long term of my life and because the world hasn’t ended as a result. (This is a very different view to what I had a few years ago. I would write in my diaries that I was ‘depressed’ because I thought I wasn’t going to get the top mark and that it was the end of the world. Wow, how sad. . .) I see the importance of assessments for students in the school. It’s an incentive to work and a goal for some. But this year, I couldn’t stop my mind from drifting out of the assessment room and focussing on other more life-changing priorities.
This is another negative post… actually it rather positive, but a little too critical. I’m just tired and greasy and being an old moody granny who is very nervous about the coming weeks.
One less thing to do, hooray.