I Once Sang

I was once in the school choir, then the district choir, and I sang the leading part. There were performances, and they were a blur.

What I remember though, clearly, the eccentric conductor with wiry hair threw the baton on me, it hit the corner of my head. It didn’t hurt but I was shocked, so as the rest of the choir. We stopped in the middle of the rehearsal. He literally drove the kids out the door and commanded me to stay.

He signalled a spot next to the piano for me to stand. He started to play the piano and I sang again and again where I was out of tune. I could read the frustration on his face, his eyebrows particularly.

I knew what frustrated him, me singing out of tune. I wished I knew how to fix it. I couldn’t tell I was in tune or not. I only knew when the whole choir was doing listening exercise, I was the only one lagged behind. Everybody else seemed to be able to tell what three piano keys he played at the same time. But me, nada, I couldn’t grasp it.

I had no idea why I was singing the lead part. I did what I was told for being a very compliant child. I was demanded to practice and practice until his eyebrows relaxed and his face softened. Then he called the rest of the choir back in and carried on with the rehearsal.

I did it for three years until my father told me there was no future for me to continue in the choir because we had no family connections in the entertainment industry, and I had no real talent in singing. I didn’t disagree and I was glad that the baton was no longer a threat.

In my last choir practice, the eccentric conductor said to me in a grumbling voice, “You are wasting your talent by quitting. Do you want me to have a word with your father?” I replied in a very quiet voice, “My father said I have no real talent in singing and we have no family connections. I think my father is right.”

He started to play the piano and signalled me to sing. I did so compliantly till the practice session finished. That was the end of my singing.