When in elementary school, our parents often encourage us to pick up certain activities in hopes it helps us find ourselves. I'd been taking dance classes since I was five-years-old and even did softball and soccer for about a year. By the end of second grade the only activity I was still doing was dance.

Then, in third grade music class, the teacher introduced us to three instruments we could have the chance to learn to play. Once a week, we would get pulled out of class for a half an hour for a lesson.

Now, having a chance to miss 30 minutes of class time, was enough to entice nine-year-old Alyson, but getting to leave so I could learn a new instrument was even more exciting. Music had always been one of my favorite classes, I completely looked up to our music teacher. I had always loved the sound of a violin, and I figured if she played it, then it was cool enough to learn how to play.

My sports inclined parents were very supportive of my wanting to learn to play the violin. They were also relieved because of the three instruments, it was the smallest and cheapest to rent. They were always on my case about practicing my violin just as much as they were about practicing for softball.

I wasn't the perfect student, there were days I would blow off practicing because I'd rather go outside and play with the other neighborhood kids, or I'd rather re-watch episode of Avatar: The Last Airbender (the animated cartoon series, not the live action movie that fans like to pretend doesn't exist).

Often, however, once I started practicing, it was hard for me to stop. When the notes started to flow together and sound like a song, all I wanted to do was play twinkle twinkle little star over and over again until the music was playing in my head while I fell asleep.

My first performance was later that year. It was for a concert the school district put on in order to raise scholarship money for graduating seniors in the music program. The high school, junior high and elementary school bands/orchestras would all play a few songs. As the youngest, the third grade string players would go first. I remember being terrified to perform twinkle twinkle litter star and hot cross buns in front of a whole gymnasium full of people.

Thankfully, I had practiced the songs so much I could play them in my sleep, even to this day. I managed not to embarrass myself in front of parents who would have thought we were adorable not matter what we did, and older kids who were probably half asleep anyway.

Over the years, more and more kids stopped playing their instruments, or they switched to new ones. It was especially hard to keep up with playing after the junior high's string program was cut. But eventually, I found a local youth orchestra to play with. I may not have played any sport for a long time, but I had an instrument that taught me the value of hard work and practice.