In Memory of Flasch

(photo: Christmas concert at Plaza Frontenac: Flasch, me, Beth, Laura, & Karsee, 1992.)

Last night I received news that my choir teacher in high school, Karen Flaschar, has passed away. She died in an accident (a fall) and left behind two children that she had raised on her own. Flasch, as she was called by everyone, was an incredibly devoted teacher. And she was the coolest. After 4 years of choir classes, swing choir classes, chamber choir meetings, 2 musicals, and every possible free period where we would plant ourselves in her office (sometimes while she was teaching other classes), I had far more contact with Flasch than any other teacher in my entire schooling career. I guess my friends and I were Flasch-junkies. She was motherly to those she saw needed extra patience and friend-like to those she recognized as more mature. She put up with our foolishness and let us into her home and family. I was a bit on the 'righteous right' back in high-school, which couldn't have been further from the kind of person that Flasch was, but she never judged. I dropped by her class a few times the following year or so and she said the new classes just weren't like ours--none of the seniors had replaced us. Lame-ohs. But Flasch was always like that, she always made you feel like you were special (even if you probably weren't). I know Flasch went through hard times personally in later years, but she wrangled those kids class after class, year after year, putting up with non-existent basses and obnoxiously shrill first sopranos (I was an alto/second soprano). She retired in 2005 and I wish I had been there to honor her as she retired.

I'm sure that hers was a thankless job more often than not--still, she loved her work. I think she loved us too. We were probably awful to listen to, both in our singing and in the drama of our personal lives. But she never said so. I do remember one performance by the Chamber choir (junior or senior year)...we were performing a musical piece about Mary and a rose bush (or something like that) and somewhere in the middle of the song we came together (in a crescendo) with a perfectly blended chord. I remember her face when got to that section--and you could tell by her face that it was truly a beautiful sound. Maybe we were singing at a retirement home, or a mall, or on the red carpeted steps of the Fox, it didn't matter. She had brought something beautiful out of us--just a bunch of gawky kids and it was only for a few seconds. I'll never forget it. Flasch was the coolest.

Link to the Obituary Online Guestbook for Karen Flaschar.