The sixth graders have learned they can't play cowbells in music class without
Mrs. Duggan's "More Cowbell" impression.
This is nothing new. I have been attempting
Saturday Night Live reenactments since I was a kid.
It all started when my brother and I would shimmy around the house and yell,
"We are two wild and crazy guys!"
(My parents introduced us to the 1970s version of the show at very young
ages. Thanks, Mom and Dad.)
Recently, a friend from my teenage years told me that one of his first
memories of me was my Adam Sandler Pickle-for-a-Mustache impression. I would
end it with, "Now, give me some candy!"
I also do a pretty rad Target Lady these days. Apparently, not much has
changed.
The other day, there happened to be a cowbell part in one of the pieces I
was teaching.
And I, of course, introduced the instrument part this way:
"I've gotta fever, and the only prescription is more cowbell!"
"Really explore the space," I continued as I head banged and danced around the
room with the cowbell.
Only one of my sixth grade classes truly appreciated this. A couple of the
students have seen the clip on YouTube.
Most of my classes just stared at me, unimpressed, maybe a little scared.
I settled down, and the kids learned their respective percussion lines. Before
layering the various instruments in, I instructed the kids to play each part
one dynamic level softer.
"Even the cowbell?" asked one of the boys.
I couldn't resist, "I gotta have more cowbell!"
A few minutes later, one of the kids was playing his hand drum when the
Tubanos were supposed to be playing by themselves.
"You have permission to give him a dirty look for playing during your solo," I
told the kids.
"But Mrs. Duggan," he said, "I've gotta fever for more hand drum!”
Touché . . .
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Rebecca Turner-Duggan.
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