Having paid for 3 children to take piano lessons, all of whom had questionable practice habits, Mom and Dad decided not to offer me the same perk. But all the books were there. And so it began. I was in 2nd grade, and I voraciously went through the Leila Fletcher piano course books as best as I could myself.
In the meantime, I began violin in the 3rd grade. Mrs. Felice used the Suzuki method which I really like - it's very ABA-like in that a fundamental component is breaking things down into steps small enough for a young learner, loving encouragement, and constant repetition. It's designed so that even a non-musician parent can instruct their child on how to play a stringed instrument, again a tenant of a good ABA program.
At some point, my music teacher at school heard me tinkering with the piano prior to music class and asked me who my instructor was. When I told her I was self taught, she offered to take me on as a student. Around the time I began private study with her, she began a children's chorus up at Syracuse University and asked my parents if I could audition. My mother and father had never thought of me as a singer. Nor had I.
When the music director called to speak with my parents about auditioning, my mother explained I wouldn't be able to, as I had recently broken my arm rollerskating, not understanding that it was not a violin audition. My mom, surprised, said to the director "She sings?" to which the director responded: "Yes, and she sings." I auditioned, and I got in; I am one of the founding members of the Syracuse Children's Chorus.
Time marched on and I had outgrown my piano teacher, and had begun study with a professor at Syracuse University. He was German. I mean really, the accent and the whole thing. He made me nervous. I began barfing prior to lessons, recitals, etc.
At this point, music was quickly becoming my life. My intolerance for individual performance was definitely a problem. I realized I would likely never be a solo performer - my anxiety so severe that nearly every time I had to perform individually in front of others, I would lather myself into a tizzy either all out vomit producing, fainting, or terrible shakes that impacted my ability to perform. No one mentioned beta blockers back then. But I like "reading" music and being part of a larger group. I like assembling and leading. It was an "aha" moment when I decided I wanted to be a conductor. And so it began. I started to read orchestra scores and practice simultaneously reading the various lines of music.
I had taken up viola, so I could read 3 clefs easily: treble, bass, and C. However, those funky woodwind and brass instruments move those suckers around. I loved music. I was at peace with music. I practiced for hours a day without being asked. Especially my piano. I enjoyed Chopin, Bach, Mozart, Rachmaninoff, but also found a bunch of old sheet music and began playing songs from the 20s, 30s, 40s through ragtime and started to learn some jazz.
Then adolescence hit like a bad tornado. I remember people telling me I was too smart for music, that musicians got paid junk, and that it would be hard for a woman to get a conducting position.
At a party with a bunch of musician friends, I got drunk for the first time ever. I was pretty much a goody two shoes and this was really out of character for me. I was certain to learn a lesson. I thought I had had a bad dream, but the following day I realized, that while I was getting sick in the bathroom of the house where the party was at, a fellow student had told my friend that was helping me yack my brains out that he would take over. He did. He also ended up taking advantage of me.
Up until that point, I was a virgin. I had a boyfriend at another local school, captain of the football team in fact. I was a straight A student, went to Church every week, involved with my family and the community, and all my music. That was all to change. It was a really troubling time for me. My boyfriend dumped me. My parents were both furious at me and devastated at my reaction to what had happened. It was also at this time that after going to the doctor, a large cyst-like tumor was found on one of my ovaries.
I was never particularly adept at social situations- with music bonding me most closely to others. This single night's bad decision annihilated just about every relationship I had, even with my own parents. I tried to persevere, but the ostracizing I faced was too much for me to bear. I switched schools, which didn't solve all my problems. I was despondent. I watched my dream float away. I was at a loss. All joy for me was gone.
I met a boy who didn't care about all that happened to me. His friend was dating my girlfriend across the street. He liked me - and I him. He was very mechanical - I remember being impressed with how he could work on small engines and his own car. He helped me get my groove back - although I would never dare tread into thinking I could be a musician again. He taught me to drive stick, and explained how the gears and clutch worked. Having always done well in math and liking the hands on nature of science, things started to click, and an engineer was born.
I tried to take up with music again in college - I played viola in the university symphony, and sang in the select choir. I even had a few paid gigs at a couple of church choirs. I kept on trying to merge my technical prowess with my passion for music - I even contemplated becoming a sound engineer or digital instrument designer. But anytime I realized there was risk involved, I backed off. I would let fate tell me what kind of engineer to be - where there was demand, I would be the supply.
Is there any doubt as to why my engineering career fell short? Certainly not here.
I didn't want Sophie to really take to music. It brought back some bad memories for me. But I was nonetheless disappointed when I tried to get her to play piano, and she really showed very little interest. Violin has come down to screaming matches, and I have thrown my hands up in the air. I have pushed the sports a bit more - soccer (even though I have little attachment to it) and she has taken ballet since she was in kindergarten. She enjoys them - but I don't really see a natural enthusiasm for them like I have her playing video games and singing.
I haven't really encouraged Sophia with singing because of my intense and near morbid fear of solo performing. I have seen Sophie anxious, and it aint pretty. But guess what? She can get on stage and not even break out in a sweat.
Today, while on facebook, a friend posted how well Sophia had done at the school concert singing her solo. Of course, I had no idea she was singing a solo. I never heard her practice. I had no idea what the song was. This evening, I got to watch her sing as if it was no big deal. She told me she wasn't nervous. She also told me she wasn't proud. She just really loves to sing and would like to do it some more - even solos.
Parenting without fears seams impossible, but I will not let my fears dictate Sophie's path in life. I will not let be a coward anymore. Without further ado, I would like to share my little nightingale and her lovely performance for both yours and mine's pleasure.
