Culture, smulture

A few weeks back the parents were asked to fill in an evaluation form for the kiddie music class we've been attending. Beyond the expected questions about how we enjoyed the class, etc., the form asked about the music our child listens to at home. Tom filled out our form, and I wasn't aware of what he said on it. Cut to last class. The teacher introduced the "dance along" music segment by saying she was very interested to read what Tom had put down as the music Henry likes to listen to, and that she was curious to see if he'd recognize this remake. Cue the music. Apparently it's a discofied version of some music from the opera "Carmen." It's no big surprise that Henry doesn't seem to recognize the tune, since we don't spin a lot of opera around here. I'm looking confused and the teacher is looking at us expectantly. The mystery is solved when another little boy's mom pipes up and says that it's her kid who likes to listen to "Carmen." To save face, the teacher asks Henry what his favorite song is. He says nothing for a minute, then offers, "um, Jakers!" Which is, of course, the theme song for a TV show.

Sigh. My failure to follow the dictates of perfect yuppie parenting is exposed yet again. Due to the limitations of my own musical taste and CD collection, Henry's mind is not being shaped by the magic known as "Mozart Effect" program. I guess I won't bother filling out his application for early admission to Harvard. Or Juilliard, for that matter.