Do you ever think how far you’ve come? Look back to the very beginning, to when you started, and think about how much work you’ve put in? I’ve been preparing for the Concerto Competition; it’s a month away. It’s my senior year, classes are wrapping up and I’ll soon be deciding how much flute I want in my life. After May, I won’t have weekly lessons, ensembles, or rehearsals. I could abandon it entirely. But that decision will come later. For now, I’m focusing on my concerto.

With only a month to go, practicing has gotten frustrating. Nothing seems correct and I’m unhappy with everything coming out of my flute. Tis the life of an artist, am I right? So I’ve found my mind wandering to my beginnings.

I started flute in 4th grade, typical. As a small, shy, frizzy-haired 3rd grader, I stared up at the instrument options and demanded to play flute. It’s always been obvious to me: I’ve wanted to play flute since I could remember. Maybe I was born to be a perfectionist or a diva. Maybe my inability to sing high notes drew me to the piercing tones of a flute. However, my braces had a different idea.

I couldn’t get any sound out for two weeks. I’m teaching fourth grade right now so I know flute is plenty difficult to play clearly, but two weeks is a long time to make no headway. It was such a struggle that an adult in my life suggested I switch instruments. They didn’t mean anything by it, and I probably could have made a successful trumpet or clarinet player. The braces had a mind of their own and they wanted me to steer clear of the precise air of a flute. Alas, I wasn’t born to be a trumpet or a clarinet player, so I stuck flute out.

In all seriousness, that comment has stuck with me for over ten years. I’m proud of the work I’ve put in to make flute successful. In a world where I don’t see hard work valued as much as it should be, I’m glad to see the practice I’ve put into an instrument I’m not naturally talented at; especially as I’m continually frustrated with my concerto.

This concerto is a big undertaking, along with my senior recital. A culmination of my four exhaustive, tireless, and persistent years at Roberts. Imagine if that fourth grader had quit or changed instruments. Instead, she worked her butt off for thirteen years to be where she is today. And she wouldn’t trade one of those years for anything.