When thinking about different teams I've been on and groups that I have been in, one that comes to mind is the chamber music group I was in last year at the International Music Institute and Festival. The group consisted of me, one other violinist, a cellist, and a pianist. We were given a piece of music that we had to learn and rehearse together over the two-week period, and perform it together in the closing recital.
While the end result was alright, we had a bit of a rough start. There were a lot of strong personalities and conflicting schedules in our group, and it made it difficult to decide who was going to make the decisions and when to schedule rehearsal time. And, when we actually did have a rehearsal, it was deciding what part of the piece we were going to practice and for how long. The first few rehearsals were highly unproductive, and I had more than a few times when I was really unsure if we were going to be in the recital or not.
But, it all eventually worked out. One of the ways we did that was realizing that if each one of us didn't yield at least a little bit of the time, nothing was going to get accomplished. We took time to listen to and consider each person's viewpoints, and try to compromise as much as possible. Also, we got in touch in between rehearsals to clarify what exactly was going to get practiced so that when we did get together, we could get right to work. The final result was not perfect, but it was a lot better than I thought it was going to be! I think that that experience has helped me realize that, in order to be a part of a successful collaborative project, it is really important to realize that there is really no "I" in "team," and that clear and respectful communication from day one will produce the best result.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Monday, October 10, 2011
Separation, Transition, and Incorporation
I don't know that I really have a college experience to write about just yet; I have only been taking college courses for a month. And as this is technically my senior year of high school, I am not even taking a full course load. However, I did have one experience that might be considered similar to transitioning to college. Last year, I spent two weeks at the International Music Institute and Festival (IMIF) at Mount Saint Mary's College in Emmittsburg, Maryland, where I lived in the dorms and experienced, in varying degrees, all of the stages of transitioning that Tinto talks about (separation, transition, incorporation). I distinctly remember one of the stages more than the other two: the stage of separation.
The first day I spent at IMIF—getting my things settled in, exploring the campus, and meeting new people—was a lot of fun. I have gone on overnight trips and sleepovers plenty of times in the past, and I have always loved them. But this time, after a few days, it really started to set in. I kept waking up and thinking I was in my own bed, in my room, only to realize that I was still in the dorm. I was hours away from my family and all my friends, and I barely knew anyone at IMIF.
Tinto says that home life and college life differ in "values, norms and behavioral and intellectual styles that characterize everyday life," and I found IMIF's highly structured schedule to be very different from my own. We had to wake up at 6:00 every morning, do stretches and exercise, and be at meals at specific times in order to hear announcements. There was no one to remind me to go to sleep or get up or be somewhere at a certain time, and I was 100% responsible for managing my day. Tinto says that the experience leaves the individual temporarily disoriented, and I did, in fact, spend the first four or so days "dazed and confused": suffering from severe sleep deprivation, missing my family terribly and barely keeping up with rehearsals, lessons, and practicing.
But it did get better. One of the things that helped was connecting with my roommates and realizing they were all in the same boat as I was, and so I wasn't alone. Learning to manage and structure my time in order to keep up with the schedule was, at first, foreign and confusing, but by the end of the festival I had worked out a system, and it has actually helped me in my ordinary life. Being away from my family made me appreciate them more. Stepping out of my "comfort zone," I learned that I have the capability to be more self-reliant. I think it was definitely a positive, successful transitional experience that has helped me to be more confident, independent, and responsible.
Next year, I plan on transferring from CCBC to Towson University. As a musician and hopeful music major, I am already in preparations for auditioning this January for Towson and a few other schools. I feel like looking at the repertoire that's going to be studied and the audition requirements and practicing accordingly could be considered similar to the anticipatory behaviors that Tinto talks about. Also, I am taking Music 101 here at CCBC, which transfers to Towson as Music 105. Also, Towson offers opprotunities to participate in a symphony orchestra and music ensembles, both of which are things I plan on doing. While I don't know that I am going to have as much of a physical separation as those going to an out of state school, I feel that my transition is going to be more in terms of the difference of how I plan my days, the materials I'm studying, and the students I'm interacting with.
The first day I spent at IMIF—getting my things settled in, exploring the campus, and meeting new people—was a lot of fun. I have gone on overnight trips and sleepovers plenty of times in the past, and I have always loved them. But this time, after a few days, it really started to set in. I kept waking up and thinking I was in my own bed, in my room, only to realize that I was still in the dorm. I was hours away from my family and all my friends, and I barely knew anyone at IMIF.
Tinto says that home life and college life differ in "values, norms and behavioral and intellectual styles that characterize everyday life," and I found IMIF's highly structured schedule to be very different from my own. We had to wake up at 6:00 every morning, do stretches and exercise, and be at meals at specific times in order to hear announcements. There was no one to remind me to go to sleep or get up or be somewhere at a certain time, and I was 100% responsible for managing my day. Tinto says that the experience leaves the individual temporarily disoriented, and I did, in fact, spend the first four or so days "dazed and confused": suffering from severe sleep deprivation, missing my family terribly and barely keeping up with rehearsals, lessons, and practicing.
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| Grotto of Our Lady of Lourdes |
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| That's Me...Second Row From the Back, Third From Left! |
. . . And, I should probably mention, it also helps when you are having an amazing time collaborating, creating beautiful music and making friends for life. :)
Next year, I plan on transferring from CCBC to Towson University. As a musician and hopeful music major, I am already in preparations for auditioning this January for Towson and a few other schools. I feel like looking at the repertoire that's going to be studied and the audition requirements and practicing accordingly could be considered similar to the anticipatory behaviors that Tinto talks about. Also, I am taking Music 101 here at CCBC, which transfers to Towson as Music 105. Also, Towson offers opprotunities to participate in a symphony orchestra and music ensembles, both of which are things I plan on doing. While I don't know that I am going to have as much of a physical separation as those going to an out of state school, I feel that my transition is going to be more in terms of the difference of how I plan my days, the materials I'm studying, and the students I'm interacting with.
Monday, September 19, 2011
The Furby
When sifting through Youtube videos, looking for a commercial from when I was a kid, one in particular stuck out: the Furby. I don't know if anyone remembers these, but they were these animatronic, gremlin-looking, slightly disturbing alien toys from the late 1990's to the early 2000's.
The commercial opens with two children coming into a room. One asks "What's THAT?" and the other proudly answers "My Furby!" The camera then pans over to the the table where said Furby sits, blinking and looking around. The Furby really does nothing at all, except for look incredibly scary, but the children hold it and pet it in amazement. The voiceover then goes on to promise that the Furby can see you, understand you, and can even catch colds from other Furbys. (In the commercial, this was regarded as the coolest thing ever.)
This ad uses appeal #1, making Furby owners seem like kind, nuturing children, kids you'd want to be like. It also uses appeal #2, promising you that your Furby will appreciate all the love and affection you give it. Still one more appeal used is #3, promising that you will be rewarded once you teach your Furby a new word or song. The part about having more love in your life (appeal #5 ) applies, as well, as the commercial suggests that your Furby will love you back. It also subtly uses appeal #10, implying that if you DON'T adopt a Furby, you don't have a heart.
As an eight year old who was desperate for a real pet, I bought into it all and begged until I got a Furby.
In reality, the Furby did none of these things the commercials promised. It did not understand me or love me back; all it did was sit on the table, make unintelligible noises, never turn off--not even when the batteries were taken out--and, in the case of the two Furbys I bought, self-combust. No, I'm not kidding. I have to say, though, the commercial was VISUALLY honest. Whatever the voiceover promised, the video showed the Furby doing exactly what it did in real life, which was pretty much nothing. The only difference was, in real life there was no cheerful, Furby-themed music playing in the background, and there were no hyperactive children dancing around singing the Furby's praises. Without those things, the toy was often boring, and, when it had one of its "episodes," somewhat frightening.
I recently learned they all got recalled.
The commercial opens with two children coming into a room. One asks "What's THAT?" and the other proudly answers "My Furby!" The camera then pans over to the the table where said Furby sits, blinking and looking around. The Furby really does nothing at all, except for look incredibly scary, but the children hold it and pet it in amazement. The voiceover then goes on to promise that the Furby can see you, understand you, and can even catch colds from other Furbys. (In the commercial, this was regarded as the coolest thing ever.)
This ad uses appeal #1, making Furby owners seem like kind, nuturing children, kids you'd want to be like. It also uses appeal #2, promising you that your Furby will appreciate all the love and affection you give it. Still one more appeal used is #3, promising that you will be rewarded once you teach your Furby a new word or song. The part about having more love in your life (appeal #5 ) applies, as well, as the commercial suggests that your Furby will love you back. It also subtly uses appeal #10, implying that if you DON'T adopt a Furby, you don't have a heart.
As an eight year old who was desperate for a real pet, I bought into it all and begged until I got a Furby.
In reality, the Furby did none of these things the commercials promised. It did not understand me or love me back; all it did was sit on the table, make unintelligible noises, never turn off--not even when the batteries were taken out--and, in the case of the two Furbys I bought, self-combust. No, I'm not kidding. I have to say, though, the commercial was VISUALLY honest. Whatever the voiceover promised, the video showed the Furby doing exactly what it did in real life, which was pretty much nothing. The only difference was, in real life there was no cheerful, Furby-themed music playing in the background, and there were no hyperactive children dancing around singing the Furby's praises. Without those things, the toy was often boring, and, when it had one of its "episodes," somewhat frightening.
I recently learned they all got recalled.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Eng. 101 Honors Response 1
What's in a name? Well, for me, a few things, both good and not so much. I'll be honest: I have mixed feelings about my full name, a sort of a 50/50 kind of thing. I am quite fond of my first name and not really fond of my last name at all.
My first name, Hannah, is a Hebrew word meaning "grace" or "favored." In addition to my mother liking the meaning (and the lack of overuse at the time I was born), I was also named, in part, after my great-aunt Hannah. I don't know if my name's being a palindrome had anything to do with Mom's thought process at the time, but it's something I enjoy. As far as I know, there really aren't any nicknames for Hannah, but that doesn't mean people haven't tried: "Hannie," "Han," and the list goes on. Luckily, none of them really stuck.
My last name, Potts, is the part I'd like to change. Potts is an English surname that actually has two possible origins. The first is a variation of the name Philpot, a medieval variation of the name Philip, meaning "little horse lover." The other is from the Old English word meaning "hole" or "pit." So my ancestors either lived near or in holes.
Something I do like about my last name, however, is that I share it with Tommy Potts, a very fine Irish fiddler. Being part-Irish, and a fiddler myself, I'd like to think there's some relation (although my dad's side of the family is not musical whatsoever).
My first name, Hannah, is a Hebrew word meaning "grace" or "favored." In addition to my mother liking the meaning (and the lack of overuse at the time I was born), I was also named, in part, after my great-aunt Hannah. I don't know if my name's being a palindrome had anything to do with Mom's thought process at the time, but it's something I enjoy. As far as I know, there really aren't any nicknames for Hannah, but that doesn't mean people haven't tried: "Hannie," "Han," and the list goes on. Luckily, none of them really stuck.
My last name, Potts, is the part I'd like to change. Potts is an English surname that actually has two possible origins. The first is a variation of the name Philpot, a medieval variation of the name Philip, meaning "little horse lover." The other is from the Old English word meaning "hole" or "pit." So my ancestors either lived near or in holes.
Something I do like about my last name, however, is that I share it with Tommy Potts, a very fine Irish fiddler. Being part-Irish, and a fiddler myself, I'd like to think there's some relation (although my dad's side of the family is not musical whatsoever).
On the subject of last names and musicians, the surname Ledford (from my mother's side of the family) has a special meaning for me. I recently found out I am directly related to Lily May and Rose Ledford, two of the founding members of an iconic early bluegrass band called the Coon Creek Girls.
So, the more I think about it, "what's in a name" may not actually be that much at all.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
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