#50 - ASLSP

Erica was late to class again.

Dr. Finks was standing at the whiteboard, his back to the students. She caught the door with her elbow, slowing it and allowing it to close silently behind her. In the back row, Terrance saw her and flashed a mock look of disgust. She smiled and shrugged and glided soundlessly to an open seat at the end of the third row.

“This is reinforced when Red Sammy’s wife say ‘it isn’t a soul in this green world of God’s that you can trust.’” Dr. Finks read from a frayed and creased paperback in his hand, his voice dipping into a low and exaggerated southern accent. As he turned back toward the class, he spotted Erica digging through her backpack. She glanced up just in time to meet his gaze.

“Miss Brown, you made it to class.” He said, interrupting his lecture.

Erica straightened in her seat. “Sorry. My alarm…” She started to say, but trailed off and finally gave up and looked down at her desk.

“I don’t mean to embarrass you. It’s just that today’s assignment was due at the beginning of class. Is yours in the stack?” He asked, gesturing toward a sloppy stack of papers at the corner of the teaching desk.

Erica dug into her bag again and retrieved a few stapled pages. “Can I give it to you now?” She asked.

Dr. Finks nodded. “Bring it up.”

Erica darted toward the desk, her eyes focused on the classroom floor. As she neared the front, Dr. Finks stepped up and reached for her paper.  Erica tried awkwardly to side-step him, but he intercepted her. She handed him the paper and quickly turned and returned to her seat.

Dr. Finks walked to the desk and laid the paper on top of the stack. He looked down at it, frozen, and then placed his hand on it. He flipped over the first page, silent. The room was quiet except for the small sounds that fill a classroom.

“Miss Brown, did you realize these pages are blank?” He asked. He had placed the paperback on the desk and was now slowly turning the pages of her paper.

“They’re sort of blank.” Erica said. She cleared her throat. “Did you see the title?”

Dr. Finks flipped back to the first page.

“It says ‘Six Pages’ by Erica Brown.”

“Right.” Erica said.

“But the rest of the pages are blank.” He said, holding the paper up for her to see.

“It’s…um…sort of experimental.” She said, cocking her head a bit, trying to be cute.

“Hmm. Experimental in what way? Are you experimenting with invisible ink?”  A few students laughed nervously. Dr. Finks was showing.

“Have you ever heard of John Cage?” Erica asked.

“Which John Cage?” Dr. Finks said. “That’s a rather commonplace name.”

“The composer. He wrote a song called 'four-minutes and thirty-three seconds'.”

Dr. Finks stared above the students' heads, as if reading John Cage’s biography off the back wall of the classroom.

“The silent composition?” Dr. Finks asked.

Erica nodded. Then she said, “But it’s not exactly silent. At least, that wasn’t his point. What he really wanted was for people to use four minutes and thirty-three seconds to listen to the ambient noise in the room where the piece is being played. It’s like an opportunity to listen for musicality in the world around us.” She was leaning in, excitement growing in her face as she explained.

“Ah.” Dr. Finks said. He lifted the paper high for the entire class to see. “On these blank pages you’re testing the same experiment in a different medium? Is that correct?”

“Correct.” Erica said.

“And the desired outcome is…?” He said, shrugging his shoulders.

“My hope is –“ Erica started, but then she stopped and looked at the wall and then down at her own hands. “You know, I was just thinking that whoever reads this would bring their own experience to it. It creates a different experience for every person.”

Behind her, a student laughed. A few more giggles sounded around the room.

“That’s the response I’m trying hard to suppress myself.” Dr. Finks said.

“Everyone has a story, right? We say that all the time. So, this gives anyone who reads it a chance to see their own story.” Erica said. She looked around the classroom, trying to garner support from her classmates.

They weren’t sympathetic.

“Interesting.” Dr. Finks said, returning the paper to the pile. “We’ll need to discuss this after class. I don’t think I can accept blank pages for this assignment.”

               

Forty minutes later, Erica packed her bag and sat quietly while the classroom emptied. Terrance touched her on the shoulder as he left. “Good luck.” He said.

A preppy looking boy wearing a red and blue striped sweater had a question to ask Dr. Finks. They spoke with one another in hushed tones while Erica waited patiently. When the boy left, Erica stood and walked slowly to the front.

“Do I need to write a real essay?” She asked.

“Yes, you do.” Dr. Finks said. He picked up the stack of papers and inserted them into his briefcase. “Unless you’re willing to make a deal.” 

Erica stiffened.

“What I mean is, if you’re willing to complete a second assignment, I’ll give you a passing grade on this one.”

Erica relaxed a bit. She said. “OK. What’s the assignment?”

Dr. Finks smiled. “I would like you to write another essay inspired by the work of the composer John Cage.”

“Oh. Okay.” She said.

“I would like you to familiarize yourself with a piece of music titled ‘A-S-L-S-P’.”

“A-S-L…” Erica tried to repeat it back.

“A-S-L-S-P.” He said.

She pulled a notebook from her backpack and used a pink gel pen to write down the letters.

“Got it. When is it due?”

“It’s due at the beginning of class each morning for the rest of the semester.”

“What?” She asked.

“Look it up. You’ll know what to do.” He said.

The next morning, Erica turned in the first page of her new assignment. She arrived earlier than usual. Dr. Finks hadn’t arrived. Before taking her seat, she laid a single sheet of paper on the desk at the front. On the paper was the word Time. Except for her name and the date, the rest of the page was blank. The next day, she turned in the word is. The following Monday she turned in a sheet of paper with the word not.

As agreed upon, she continued turning in the ASLSP papers each morning for the rest of the semester. Each day, when Dr. Finks retrieved the paper from his teaching desk, he would acknowledge her in some way. A smile, a nod. By the end of the semester, she had completed four sentences. On the last day of class, she personally handed him the last sheet of paper. On it was written the word future, followed by a period.

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To learn more about ASLSP, read the original Wikipedia article HERE.