The Sound of (Grade School) Music
On Tuesday night last week, I had to make special arrangements to attend a highly renown, deeply covetous ritual. Some folk long to be indoctrinated into its mythos, while others are forced into it, and still others just sort of wander in by accident. Membership requires no identification card or secret handshake, but you can tell fellow members from a certain light in their eyes, indicating that they have seen things – or, perhaps more appropriately, heard things – that, unless you were there, hint at powers one could not possibly comprehend.
So, yeah, I went to my daughter’s grade school winter concert.
‘Twas at dusk I arrived at the school: a large, perfectly bureaucratically-designed brick building that was radiant with promises of knowledge, community, and grilled cheese sandwiches. While it had its share of festive decorations, I hate to admit it but it was dwarfed by the set-up across the street from the local fire department, who were decked out with tasteful lights, wreaths, and string lights. Then again, I guess if anyone would know about making a building lit, it would be the fire department.
No matter. I was not here for the trappings of the outside, but the talents within. I took my daughter’s hand and ushered her through the throngs of local parents milling about. My daughter, already a VIP at age 8, was allowed through while I had to wait behind the lines with the rest of the unwashed masses of adults. As more kids arrived, they scurried down the hall to their respective groups (my daughter was going with the chorus, but there was the grade school orchestra, as well), and the line got progressively longer in the waiting area.
Finally, they allowed us to pass and head into the main gymnasium because, as per federal law, all public grade school concerts must take place in a gymnasium. The gym was set up with some of the folding bleachers pulled out from the side walls and an array of folding chairs set up facing towards an orchestra area which was just more folding chairs (all of which were older than I was, from the looks of it) in the center of the gym, arranged in a semi-circle and complete with those archaic black music stands.
My daughter and I had arrived separately, so while I waited for my wife and mother-in-law, I wandered up and down the small aisle and made small talk with one of the mom’s of my daughter’s friends until the rest of my group joined me.
Honestly, I was a bit excited, as I think the last student concert I was at was when I was actually in one. I played the trombone back then, earning the 3rd chair spot. This might sound impressive, until you realize that there were only three trombone players in the entire school.
Oh, and I guess I was technically at a student school concert when I saw a friend of mine who was majoring in composition and conducting in his own graduate performance, but believe it or not, that was a slightly different vibe than what we had here.
The first half of the concert was the orchestra, who played three short pieces, all of which had some Christmas elements to them. I mentioned to my wife that I wondered if these were pieces that were written expressly for grade schoolers, given how they were not only straightforward but also were pretty short. This was no end of Schubert’s 7th, the end of which goes on for half an era, but rather more like slightly longer than a commercial jingle.
The students did pretty well. At least, I thought that they did, but I freely admit I’m biased. Sure, there were some moments when there was a disagreement about which note was the one to play, but for all I knew, they were actually playing some atonal pieces. Regardless, the kids seemed to be having fun, and I doubt anyone in the audience was looking for a deep dive into the world of dodecaphonic.
After the orchestra wrapped up, they remained in their seats while the 3rd grade chorus came in, and gadzooks but when I say “the 3rd grade chorus,” I honestly think the chorus was the entire 3rd grade. They just kept filing in, stepping up onto the small risers against the back wall. I think we had enough kids to host our own college playoff format.
My daughter was spotted coming in and we waved to her, even though she was told not to wave back; she could smile, which was nice, but since she is usually smiling, I was not 100% sure if she saw us or not.
The chorus went through three holiday songs of their own, covering Christmas, Hanukkah, and generic winter fun, and of course, they were adorable. There is something entirely wholesome and sweet about a group of young kids singing together. They could probably do a rendition of Dies irae and make it sound charming. Come to think of it, I think I’ll suggest that the next time there is a school board meeting. Be a good way to make a first impression on people.
Afterwards, we all congratulated my daughter, who was very excited to have completed her very first vocal concert. She had already successfully finished a piano recital, and now with her chorus one marked off, she was just racking up those points on her metaphorical musical performance punch card.
Personally, I hope that she does continue on with it. While getting her to practice her piano is always a tense negotiation that sometimes requires Jimmy Carter to be called in, we never have to tell her to practice her chorus singing. In fact, we often have to tell her not to practice so much. And so loud. And while daddy is trying to nap.
But, it’s the small price to pay for a budding music star. Taylor Swift, watch your back, girlfriend.