When I was in third grade, a beige recorder was placed in my grubby hands. I peered into the various holes of the instrument, with distaste drawn onto my facial features. I felt it in my hands, and its weight did not sit well with me. I was to perform in the third grade recorder concert, and it took all of my mighty willpower to not thrust the abomination across the room.
When I was in fourth grade, a black cylindrical item was dropped into my hands, and a reed was given for me to place my saliva upon. I blew into the mouthpiece, and an incredible squeak was released. The whole notion had me puzzled beyond belief, especially when I had to take the contraption apart and put it in its case. I was supposed to put on a performance with the Gold Band that year, when I couldn’t even figure out how to put my instrument together. Needless to say, the clarinet wasn’t my thing either.
Going into sixth grade, middle school was my fresh start. One afternoon messing around in Sam Ash, I picked up a violin. My fingers took a liking to its wooden texture and auburn tint. I strummed the strings, instantaneously gaining a fondness for the sound. I could see my future laid out in front of me, as I peered into the two f-holes. I decided that this would be my last attempt at music. I took private lessons from two teachers that summer. I put all I had into it, as dedication overcame me.
Right before school started, my mother contacted the orchestra teacher in the middle school, explaining to her my situation. She, however, had the audacity to state that she would not have an amateur in her orchestra. My mother was not a fan of her underestimating me, so she convinced her to let me audition. I performed in front of her, playing a piece above the middle school level with remarkable precision. At the end of the performance, she stood up clapping. My mother has always said, despite the various obstacles that obscure my view of the finish line, “If you believe, you can achieve.” She was right. I was admitted into the sixth grade orchestra, without missing a beat. At the end of the year, I performed a NYSSMA piece in front of a judge, receiving a near perfect score and wowing everyone. I have done NYSSMA every year since, receiving scores in the high 90’s out of 100.
The following year, we were thrown into the seventh and eighth grade orchestra, eyes closed and hands tied. The seventh graders were predominantly second violins, and the eighth graders firsts.The teacher chose two seventh graders to join the firsts, and I was surprisingly one of them. That year I was admitted into LISFA (Long Island String Festival) and SCMEA (Suffolk County Music Festival) based on the NYSSMA score I received the year before, and SCMEA again the following year. In eighth grade, I was given the position of concert mistress of the seventh and eighth grade orchestra, also known as first chair of the first violins, the highest position in an orchestra. I performed a solo during both the winter and spring concerts, doing my best to make my mother proud. I still remember her sobbing from the second row.
As a senior this year I am the concert mistress of the high school orchestra. It’s been a long ride, but I finally made it. I sought my way through various instruments, thinking that music was just not for me. Fortunately, I found myself within the four strings of my violin. Now I'm heading off to Molloy College in the fall, to take part in their String Orchestra, and I am pursuing a minor in the area of Music. I’m very thankful for music. It’s played the role of de-stressor from the issues I face. It’s good to know I now have this passion that will resonate throughout my life, and I was able to prove everybody wrong. I’ll be able to do this with whatever profession I choose to pursue as well.
