Middle School Faculty - Beth Heinberg

Beth Heinberg

Performing Arts = Music! Dance! Theater!

7th grade monologues:  scroll all the way down this page!

FINISH TYPING PROJECT REFLECTION, BRING TO MS. H

7th grade Charleston trip

H-A-P-P-Y-Y-

WHY AM I SO HAPPY WHEN

I DANCE THE CHARLESTON?

 6th graders:

PRACTICE CIRCLE OF 5THS AND MNEMONIC DEVICE FOR FLATS AND SHARPS (SCROLL DOWN)

To improve your music-reading skills, go to musictheory.net and take the lessons about the staff.

http://www.classicsforkids.com/games/ has some good games to improve musical skills, too.

www.nyphilkids.org is an excellent site for learning about the orchestra.  Check out the games and the interviews with performers like Bobby McFerrin. 

MUSIC THEORY REMINDERS:

Musical Alphabet skips: GBDF ACE (Great Big Dog Friend, "Ace")

ALL COWS EAT GRASS IN THE SPACES OF THE BASS!

THE FACE IS IN THE SPACES OF THE TREBLE STAFF!

FAT CATS GET DONUTS AND EGGS, BUTTERED = sharps in the keys

BUTTERED EGGS AND DONUTS GET CATS FAT = flats in the keys

Performing Arts links to try:

Children’s Theater: http://www.ashevilleartscenter.com/

Symphony: http://www.ashevillesymphony.org/

Opera: http://www.ashevillelyric.org/

Community Theater: http://www.ashevilletheatre.org/

Dance: http://www.ashevilleballet.com/  http://www.danceasheville.com

  GIRLS:

The Fantasticks

By Tom Jones and Harvey Schmidt

Luisa:

This morning a bird woke me up.

It was a lark or a peacock,

Or something like that.

Some strange sort of bird that I’d never heard.

And I said "hello."

And it vanished: flew away.

The very minute that I said "hello."

It was mysterious.

So do you know what I did?

I went over to my mirror

And brushed my hair two hundred times

Without stopping.

And as I was brushing it,

My hair turned gold!

No, honestly! Gold!

And then red.

And then sort of a deep blue when the sun hit it.

I’m sixteen years old,

And every day something happens to me.

I don’t know what to make of it.

When I get up in the morning to get dressed, I can tell:

Something’s different.

I like to touch my eyelids

Because they’re never quite the same.

Oh!  Oh!  Oh!

I hug myself till my arms turn blue,

Then I close my eyes and I cry and cry

Till the tears come down

And I taste them.  Ah!

I love to taste my tears!

I am special.

Please, God, please—

Don’t let me be normal!

  BOYS:

The Fantasticks

By Tom Jones and Harvey Schmidt

Matt:

There is this girl.

I’m nearly twenty years old.

I’ve studied Biology.

I’ve had an education.

I’ve been inside a lab:

Dissected violets.

I know the way things are.

I’m grown-up; stable;

Willing to conform.

I’m beyond such foolish notions,

And yet—in spite of my knowledge—

There is this girl.

She makes me young again, and foolish,

And with her I perform the impossible:

I defy Biology!

And achieve ignorance!

There are no other ears but hers to hear the explosion of my soul!

There are no other eyes but hers to make me wise,

and despite what they say of species,

there is not one plant or animal or any growing thing

that is made quite the same as she is.

It’s stupid, of course, and immensely undignified,

But I do love her!

For next year:

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