I am shy. Uncomfortable around strangers, I clam up. If asked a question, I quietly reply and then pull back into myself. It feels safer that way. I am not a fan of the spotlight. I prefer to blend into the background.

I am in chorus not for a love of music and performance, but because it seemed the best, or perhaps easiest, choice for my middle school elective class. Besides, all my friends are here. I tried band, and was greatly disappointed when I wasn’t allowed to play the flute. All the cool band girls got to carry a flute case with them. Instead, I was given an oboe. I could never get the air to flow through the reed quite the right way and was always penalized with an annoying buzzing on my lips. I decided band was not for me.

So here I sit, surrounded by my peers, singing in unison and occasional off key harmony. It’s a fun way to pass the last hour in my school day and a nice break from note taking and tests. We sing weird warm ups and songs that don’t entirely make sense to me. When we finish with our concerts, we’re rewarded with movie watching. I suppose because there’s music in Disney animated movies, it counts as educational.

Many of the singers around me grow excited around Solo and Ensemble time. The bravest of the brave and the coolest of the cool step out in front of judges and perform a piece that they have picked apart and learned backwards and forwards. Not me. No way will I sing by myself. Especially not in front of a judge. No thanks.

In my eighth grade year, some of my friends want to do an ensemble piece for Solo and Ensemble. They ask me to be a part of it. Six girls total; two on first soprano, two on second soprano, and two on alto. I had watched other brave singers longingly from a distance for too long. I decide to try it. Besides, I wasn’t singing by myself. I would be safely surrounded by five friends; nestled securely among other voices.

Our chorus teacher picked a piece for us; Johnny Has Gone For a Soldier. She agreed to work with us and help us learn our parts. I was assigned the alto part. Disheartened, I look over my boring part of low A after low A. I look up and see the first sopranos excitedly looking over their part. I had wanted the melody.

Over the next few weeks, we learn our parts and work on blending our six voices together. The more time I spend learning my part, the more it grows on me. What had once been a boring repetitive line of the same note is now a chance to work on dynamics. I’ve never sung an alto part before, and I love the rich tone that is coming out of me. And every time we come upon the beautiful flowing phrase, “Bu—uy my lo-ove a sword of steel,” the alto’s big chance in the song to shine, I give it everything I have. This is fun!

With just a few rehearsals left until the big performance, our teacher pulls us into the cramped practice room to run through the song one more time. With seven of us in the confined space, we are practically sitting on the upright piano. I stand directly behind my teacher, not registering how close I am to her ears. As the song begins, I put my all into it and sing with everything I have.

As my teacher hits the last chord on the keyboard, she turns around and looks me straight in the eye with amazement.

“Jamie! I didn’t know you could sing like that! It was beautiful!”

I can feel my face flushing as I thank her for the compliment.

———-

After weeks of preparation and memorization, the day has arrived. We travel to Solo and Ensemble. We are nervous. We are jittery. Our teacher gives us encouragement and big grins as we walk into the room. A kind looking woman sits behind a table. She smiles warmly as we take our place in front of her. One of my friends gives an introduction, the piano plays the intro, and we begin to sing.

My nerves dissipate as we begin. I feel comfortable singing with this group of girls. My voice blends into the fabric of our song. I relax, and smile as I drift into the harmony.

As we finish, the kind woman grins big, claps her hands together, and thanks us for our performance. Then, as is the custom at Solo and Ensemble, she gives us a few tips on how to improve our performance. She runs through a couple sections, pointing out things like diction, tone, and dynamics. We sing those parts for her again, thinking about all that she has told us.

She points to my fellow alto and me and declares, “Altos, I love you!” She thanks us for blending well and for using dynamics on those sections of repeated notes. I smile big at the compliment.

After the day is over, we receive a photocopy of the judge’s comments so we can read them over on our own. My eyes instantly fall on the one section in all caps.

“LOVE YOU ALTOS!”

This singing thing is pretty cool.