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This was written a while ago but I’m only getting around to posting it: 

May 30, 06

My old friend Biff used to tell me that no good deed goes unpunished, and he just may be right ... what a weird lesson I learned today.  

Last year I played at a very poor school in the city. The kids in this school were from some of the toughest, most challenged neighborhoods imaginable. Violence, drugs, poverty, broken homes ... too well we know the list. The teachers even told me that they had to bathe some of the younger kids in the morning when they came to school. 

Anyway, they had hired me to come and sing and there was an air of real excitement in the building. The kids had raised the money, I think, selling pizzas, to pay my fee. There was a feeling of accomplishment - of celebration - as I entered the auditorium. It was buzzing. Every seat filled. Teachers standing on the sides and in the back. As I was introduced I was warned that these kids tended not to be overly well-behaved in such large groups; that assemblies in this school were greeted, especially by the older grades, with boisterous indifference. As most entertainers would, I took the bit in my teeth and seized the challenge. I knew that this school couldn’t really afford me and I was determined to give the very best show they’d ever had. I walked out onto that stage determined to “take” the room and by halfway through the set I had the kids eating out of my hand; singing, clapping, laughing! It was a real joy and, I have to admit, it gave me a great feeling of satisfaction, especially because, as a folksinger, I was bringing a form of live performance and music that most of these children wouldn’t have had much of a chance to experience. 

After the show, the principal came up and thanked me profusely; seemingly astonished that one guy with an acoustic guitar could have been so effective in this setting. I thanked her and told her that, I had enjoyed the experience so much that, given the financial sacrifice involved in their hiring me, and the many other uses the money could be put to, I would be willing to come back each year and sing for free. We parted smiling. 

A year goes by... 

This morning I walked into the same school with my guitar case and checked in at the office. No one had been told of my coming. Not the secretary, not the custodial staff… I had received an email from the school just the night before reminding me of the  free show we had arranged but there was simply no one there to greet me. Not the principal, not the teacher who had been set to task of arranging my performance. I loaded into the auditorium and set my PA system up on a stage which was being used by lady with a vaguely Teutonic accent. She was standing in the shadows with a pointer and some posters on easels and going on in a high lilting voice to several hundred students about the importance of dental hygiene. I apologized for the intrusion but explained that I only had thirty minutes to prepare for the big assembly that she too was unaware of. 

I was at last greeted by a pretty young teaching assistant who apologized for all the confusion. She explained that the teacher who had booked me was very busy but would be along soon.  

I set up the equipment, sound checked, and asked the custodian, Mr. Scott, to turn on the stage lights. He threw some switches, I thanked him, and we were in business. 

At 10 o’clock the tooth lady packed up her visual aids as several kindergarten classes were ushered to the floor in the front of the auditorium. I talked with the children for a few minutes, waiting for the rest of the grades to arrive. Finally I was informed that these would be the only students attending my performance.  I tried to hide my confusion and disappointment. I asked for a glass of water on the stage and that the house lights be lowered. They were and I began.  

The first song went fine. The kids were, as kindergarteners will be, a little fidgety but big smiles beamed up from the carpet in front of the stage. Halfway through the second song, all the stage lights were turned off and the houselights were brought up. Holding the attention of three dozen five-year olds requires every tool in your belt and reversing the lighting scheme was not going help. I called out for the lights to be restored and within seconds we got things switched back to the way they had been. But the adventure was only beginning.

Midway through the next song the entire auditorium was plunged into utter darkness. For a moment I suspected a power failure but I strummed my guitar and found that the PA system was still operating. The kids were enjoying the situation even less than me. Thankfully some of the teachers  alertly scrambled up the aisles to open the back doors and allow beams of fluorescent hallway light to spill in.  

A minute or so elapsed when every light in the auditorium including all the stage lights were turned on again.  I couldn't tell who was pulling the switches.

As I continued the show, various banks of lights were alternately thrown on and then off again until, after several frustrating minutes, I pleaded over the shrouded microphone that whoever was playing Wizard of Oz please just leave the controls alone - as the distraction they were creating was much worse than the any lack of illumination. 

I continued singing.

The little guys were great; sang and clapped and laughed.

Though we got through it, I don't think I was ever so glad for a show to end. 

As I packed up, the teacher who had booked me came up and thanked me for coming. Without offering an explanation, she apologized for the lighting snafus.  I told her they had been the least of my problem with the show and explained that my offer had been to perform for the whole school. She explained curtly that some the students were on a field trip. Well-I thought – at least the money had gone to good use, but I couldn’t help but wonder why this date had been selected for my appearance.  

She thanked me again with a big smile and left me to load out in the darkness. 

As I drove home I wondered why we often seem to value a purchase more than a gift.

 City of New Orleans Journal

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