Long before I was putting pen to paper and fingers to a keyboard, I was putting my mouth to a microphone and ear to a tune. In the third grade, I received a vocal solo in the spring choral concert and performed on stage in front of an audience packed auditorium (although not before tripping over a chair, falling, and needing to be rushed to the nurse.) The experience, at the time harrowing, stayed with me, and for the first few months of fourth grade, I stubbornly insisted that I wanted to play the flute. I joined the band, rented the flute, attended the in school practices, (where my teacher constantly had to correct me), and never practiced after school. The flute sat, in its black box, on a shelf in my family room, forever untouched. After a few weeks of discussions between my mom, the band teacher, the choir teacher, and me, it was decided it would be best for me to leave band and join the choir.
So there, I was, back to singing. I continued to sing in harmony with other choir members for the next two years and, in the fifth grade, sang Christina Aguilera’s “I Turn to You” in the yearly talent show. That performance didn’t go so well either. Halfway through the song, the DJ who was handling the stereo, accidentally turned off the track I was using and I froze on stage. I sat in my chair, stock still, for several minutes before Mrs. Harrington, my choir director came over and told me to keep singing and asked the audience to sing with me. The audience didn’t know all the words, so I did the only thing I could do: I sang the last line then got off stage as quickly as possible.
Needless to say, I was devastated. Once back stage, I tearfully expressed that I had messed up and that it was the worst performance ever. When I transitioned to middle school, I joined choir again, but it wasn’t the same. My teacher wasn’t as encouraging, nor was I as quick to try out for solos. Furthermore, the few times I did try out, I was passed over in favor of someone else. Then in high school, my schedule didn’t allow time for choir until my junior year, where I had no choice but to start at the beginning and join the mixed chorus. At the end of the year, I auditioned for the Concert Choir (the prestigious senior choir), but was put in the Women’s Ensemble instead.
Then I decided to try out for the Notables, an a capella group, and did not make that.
When I entered Rutgers-Newark in the fall of 2007, I decided to join the Rutgers chorus. However, I eventually realized that I didn’t like any of the musical arrangements, the director, or the way he managed the group. I stayed for one semester, although half-heartedly, only attending about a third of the weekly practices.
Soon after, I switched to working for the campus newspaper, majored in media studies, and didn’t sing in a performance capacity for the next seven years.
Then, in 2015, I joined the Teachers College Community Choir. After realizing, with more devastation, that I was not cut out for classroom teaching, I set out on a desperate search for passion and inspiration. I had been talking to a counselor at TC for a few weeks at that point and was explaining to her how I felt that most people in my life only saw me for my disability and nothing else. She proceeded to ask: What do you want people to know about you?
The answer was easy: I’m a singer. I’m a writer. I’m an artist.
I’m convinced that what happened next was divine intervention. I went back to my room and, while searching the MyTC Portal came across a listing advertising the TC Community Choir. Anyone could join. No auditions were necessary. And there was an option to take it for no credit.
I registered immediately. It was the best decision I ever made.
Last week, I performed my final concert with the group, and I can only say that my experience has been renewing and transformative. Our director, Dr. Nicole Becker, set out to create a choir in which the members have fun, sing with spirit, and bring positive energy to those who watch us. I believe she succeeded. The choir is far from perfect, with about half the singers actually experienced in music, but the point isn’t to seek perfection. The arts are not about perfection. They are not a product; they are an experience. Singing is not about hitting the perfect notes, but rather about telling a story, connecting with your audience, and expressing emotion through sound and gestural movements.
Dr. Becker understood that some singers learn through reading sheet music, while others learned by ear, so the stress involved with sight reading was never present. The only requirement ever placed on me was to show up for practice and learn in the way that was best for me.
Furthermore, Dr. Becker connected me with a fellow student at TC who has since become my voice coach. Through that connection, I started taking private lessons and thus got a chance to perform in two of the Musical Serenades concerts held every semester at TC. During the Musical Serenades concert on May 3rd, I sang “Somewhere” from West Side Story and I can honestly say I think it was the best performance to date.
Not one of those performances was perfect. But, again, that’s not the point. The point isn’t to sound like everyone else—that’s boring. The point is to take a piece and make it your own. To take the audience on a journey.
My journey has taught me that the best way to do art is to be truthful, to be present, and to keep trying. Those lessons mean far more than perfection
