The Blue Tail Fly*

During my career as a teacher, my two favorite colleagues were both named Charlie--Charlie Musch, of Edinburg (TX) Junior High School, and Charlie Graham of Philadelphia's Lincoln High School. Both were grizzled veterans of the music education trenches, much loved by colleagues and students alike, and from whom I learned much in the year I spent with them.

The one I'm talking about today, though, is Charlie Graham.  I worked with him in his last year at Lincoln High School.  As the last day of school grew nearer, he said jovially, "Dan, my new name is Jimmy Crack Corn".  Being the dense band director, it took a moment or two for me to understand what he meant.

The first line of the chorus of "Blue Tail Fly" is as follows:
"Jimmy Crack Corn, and I don't care".

So when we'd have staff meetings or read daily announcements, he'd tell us again, "my name is Jimmy Crack Corn".  I can't hear that song without thinking of Charlie--and can't think of him without smiling.

I'm well aware of the minstrel origins of that song, and that it once contained lyrics that to modern ears and minds would be considered offensive, even racist. Charlie wasn't racist--he went out of his way to shelter students who he thought were being harassed or excluded.  The point of this post, if there is one to be gleaned, is that "Jimmy Crack Corn" was his way of letting go as retirement neared. He cared deeply about the state of Music Education in the School District of Philadelphia, and lamented what once was at Lincoln High School..

So as I leave the Free Library of Philadelphia, I'm presented with a choice: lament what once was, and won't be again, or move on gracefully, grateful for the experience I had and the people I met.

Onward.

*--American minstrel song, c. 1847.

A man called Ove*

*--Okay, so this isn't a song title--it's a book title and the title of a Swedish film, AND an upcoming feature film starring Tom Hanks. Get off of my lawn ya durn kids, ya!

I used to work for a company named Agway, no longer in existence.  I had a boss whose name was Bill Jager--lovely wife Barbara and three beautiful daughters--maybe 10 years older than me when I first started at the company, and he would rant about how people would know so little about the things they spent the most money on (houses and cars) or how to fix them.

Bill Jager, you were right.

I'm sick to death of people who buy electronic devices for hundreds or thousands of dollars then expect me to fix their problems without seeing the device or what it's doing wrong (or they're doing wrong). I still have to smile and sound cheerful like it isn't the 10000th time I've been asked today. Glad they can't see eyerolls and facepalms on the telephone.

Rant over. Time to hit the reference desk.

My Back Pages*

With less than three weeks to go before I leave my current post, a weird dynamic has risen up.  I don't want to come to any false assumptions or conclusions, but consider this:

1) One of the things I get dinged on in evaluations is not clearing things through superiors.  Since I'm the junior librarian in terms of seniority, I'm expected to clear everything I do and say through SOMEONE in the department.

I'm 57 years old, for Christ's sake. I've been doing this a while. I'm leaving in eight days. Why bring this up now?

2) My supervisor has become more distant than usual. I guess it's her way of dealing with this situation, which started with a royal fxxxup by Human Resources, continued with disunity at home, and I end up once again "taking one for the team" Some team. Some family leadcr I turned out to be. If I did such a great job raising our kids than why do none of them choose to go to church?

3) I am not going to mention leaving to anyone here. Let's see if they remember me with more than a passing "harrumph".

*--Bob Dylan,  Another Side of Bob Dylan, 1964.