6. Music Lessons

On the morning that the schools opened, according to my sister’s direct report, it was announced that the High School students would meet in the auditorium at ten-thirty for a convocation to be addressed by Mr. Auburn. They came, chattering noisily but were presently hushed by curiosity. A stereopticon had been set up, about forty feet from the stage, and beside it stood young Bill Witherspoon, captain of the soccer team. Bill was feeling his oats, and when he turned to frown on his disorderly idolators, they came to attention.

Mr. Auburn came striding upon the stage, waited until you could hear a pin drop, and announced that all the boys whose voice range was baritone should join him in singing “My.” He sang “My” and a few boys timidly joined him. Everybody laughed.

“We can do better than that,” said Mr. Auburn. “Bill, you’re a baritone; aren’t you? Now! All you deep voices! My!” This time he got splendid results. He tried it on the tenors, a third higher. He got excellent co-operation from the sopranos and altos. Now he had them sing “My” together in all four parts. They liked it. Mr. Auburn signed for them to do it again, and they did it again with more enthusiasm.

One of the most popular girls in the senior class, a redhead named Virginia, whom everyone called Ginger, came down the aisle and seated herself at the piano. It may not have occurred to any of her schoolmates that she was the granddaughter of one of the tough old members of the Board of Education, but she was. (Oh, this Mr. Auburn was a slick operator!)

It was very quiet in the auditorium while they waited to see what would turn up. The new Superintendent signaled for them to rise.

“Now, Ginger, if you will give us a full chord,” said Mr. Auburn, “we will sing ‘My Country ‘Tis of Thee.'”

It was quite wonderful, they all thought, and when they sat down they applauded, though they weren’t sure whether they were applauding themselves or Mr. Auburn. But one thing was sure: the new Superintendent was their man!

He did not compliment them on their good singing, Lou reported. He seemed to take it for granted that they would do anything he asked.

He said this meeting was a “convocation,” probably an unfamiliar word with them. But anyone who knew his Latin could tear the word apart and understand, without asking, that it meant “a calling together.” The syllable “voc” meant “call” or “voice” or something “vocal.” So many of our English words were from Latin. People who didn’t know their Latin weren’t very well educated. Incidentally, that word “educate” was from Latin. “Educate” meant “to lead out.” That syllable “due” meant “to lead.” “Induce” meant “to lead in.”

Then Mr. Auburn gave Bill Witherspoon a sign to turn on the pictures, which he explained. This was the Colosseum, built 2100 years ago, where the Romans held their field and sports events. It used to be covered with a beautiful veneer of marble plates, which were stripped off a few centuries later to decorate the Pantheon (the next picture) and a few centuries after that the marble was peeled off the Pantheon and used in the building of St. Peter’s Cathedral (the next picture).

There were pictures of the Forum, as it looks today, and brief comments on the great men and great events celebrated there. And when the pictures were all shown, Mr. Auburn said he intended to teach the Latin classes himself, and hoped there would be many students signing up for it.

“But don’t enroll for it,” he said, “unless you intend to work at it! It is not part of my job to teach. I shall be doing this because I want all of you who really desire an education to get this training. Latin can be dry, dull drudgery, or it can be good fun. It’s a mistake to think that education is a matter of getting marks and grades, with a diploma at the end of it!”

Then they stood and sang “My Country ‘Tis of Thee” again, and Mr. Auburn waved them out with his big hands. And they knew that this was the first time they had ever really been at school. They were for Mr. Auburn, lock, stock and barrel!

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