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Ever teach the violin? Think you wanna try? I did... whoops! First of all, don't become a violin teacher if you don't like violin cases. They're everywhere! It got to the point where I couldn't even get to the bathroom from the living room because of the great violin case mountain range that emerged through the kitchen across the hall. Remember the scene in Lord of the Rings when the guys are trying to cross over the Misty Mountains but Saruman sends a storm to stop them? Well it was the same in my house, only instead of snow, I was knee deep in violin cases, and instead of a blizzard pelting me, violin cases. And just like Lord of the Rings, I could not pass the treacherous mountains, so I decided to try the mines.

You know what else sucks about being a violin teacher? That's right, piles and piles of filthy, sticky violins, caked with urine. What do you expect when you hand pee shy boys and girls their own personal portable toilet? I once sent a pupil of mine home because he had the nerve to stand there, playing "Go Tell Aunt Rhody" on a filthy, sticky fiddle half filled with urine steadily streaming onto my living room carpet! I actually had to start keeping a bucket handy during lessons, to catch all the leaks from those damn filthy wooden piss boxes. Those F-holes? Become a violin teacher, and you'll soon know them only as P-holes.

Could it get any worse? You ready for this? Rosin. Rosin this, Rosin that. "Do you have any rosin? I forgot my ROSIN" "I'm running low on rosin" "Let me just rosin up my bow, it needs rosin because it's horse hair" "Oh, here's my rosin, I THOUGHT I still had some rosin." "Rosin, rosin, rosin, rosin, ros"-ARRRRRGGHHHHHH! Enough ROSIN! ENOUGH! You want some more rosins -AGGH i mean, reasons, to not become a violin teacher?

OK: chin rests. Apparently violins hurt your chin if you don't use some kind of padding. Oh Boo hoo. My chin hurts so I must have a little pillow that I will use to cushion the blows given to my chin by my painful wooden violin. I will use the same little pillow over and over again, because I am a little puss. I will never wash it and I will soak it with chin sweat and I will pee on it. Then I'll toss it on the floor somewhere in my violin teacher's house. Then I'll throw my violin case in his kitchen. Then I'll take a piss in my violin like a damn hobo. And I'll talk about rosin. Then my mom won't pay him for the lesson because she says his house should be condemned for being a filthy toilet. Geez, you think it'd be half as much like a toilet if I could actually have access to my own bathroom? Nope, sorry, not if you're a violin teacher. Not if you've got an impassable sea of violin cases growing in your kitchen, blocking your way to the John. You try reasoning with them, these parents.

So you still wanna be a violin teacher? Well do ya?

Learn more about this author, Andy Jordan.
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