"I am a musician" - The Background

“this / very moment, it is carrying / sand, it is eating / from our hands, / grab it, / let it not slip away, / let it not lose its dreams / and words,”

An excerpt from Ode to the Present, Pablo Neruda

My first note on the bassoon was an “F”. It was honky, loud, and didn’t sound anything like music. The bassoon was the same height as me in sixth grade. (I will admit that I am only slightly taller than it now) I fell in love. The bassoon was a challenge for me, and I aspired to be a great musician.

I took lessons, practiced regularly, and played in ensembles day in and day out. Year after year I improved dramatically. My summers were spent at Blue Lake Fine Arts Camp, which is tucked away in the forest in northern Michigan. I played at solo and ensemble, where I played solos, duets, trios, quintets, and chamber groups.

My senior year in high school saw many of my happiest moments with music. I played in the pit orchestra of the production of the Nutcracker. I was the Principal Bassoonist in the All-State Orchestra, playing a pinnacle piece for any bassoonist - the opening of the Firebird Suite by Stravinsky. All my events at solo ensembles at the state level earned 1st divisions. My duet and quintet group were nominated for the Michigan Youth Arts Festival as a top-performing group. Our quintet was selected as #1 in the state that year and performed various times at the festival. I competed in the solo competition too for the festival. I was selected as the Principal Bassoonist for the Honors Band at the Michigan Youth Arts Festival.

Amidst all this, I was one of four students who auditioned and was accepted into the University of Michigan School, Theater, and Dance.

I was elated that I had the opportunity to chase a dream of being a true “musician”.

Before arriving at music school, I decided it was in my best interest to disclose my hard-of-hearing status. There was a class I was dreading - aural music theory. The class was solely based on the ability to hear, which as one would guess, wasn’t my strong suit. I played and dabbled with music for years, never allowing myself to succumb to the fear my hearing was going to hinder my progress.

On one occasion, one of my lesson teachers (who I regard in the highest respect) mentioned that my hearing could be the reason for my shaky intonation. (Intonation in music is how accurate a note sounds) I shrugged off the remark.

I filled out the paperwork at the Services for Students with Disabilities (SSD). Before the first day of class, I notified all my teachers about my VISA documentation through email, which was needed to prove my disability. I didn’t feel ashamed. I arrived at the first session of my aural theory class. The teacher sat down at the piano, banging out notes and chords. He would ask the students, “what chord is this” or “what notes did I play”? Of course, some students answered with ease, others like myself, were utterly confused. I approached the GSI (graduate student instructor) after class. I talked through my worries about the course, and he reassured me that “we could work things out”.

The course was two hours a week, and of course, I attended the additional office hours, which was another two hours. In other words, my 1 credit course turned out to be 4 hours a week of instruction, plus the amount of time I dedicated to homework and practicing. I remember a moment when things became too much. I was sitting in a chair beside a piano, where my GSI sat. He asked me to sing a scale, after trying three different starting notes, I failed a final time. My GSI uttered something to the effect of “you’ll just have to figure something out”. I shook my head, nodding ‘yes’, and left the room. I was holding back tears. Then, as I walked out of the building, I cried. Questions flooded my thoughts. How do I figure out why I cannot hear the scale? How do I spend so much time, and end up going nowhere? What was there to figure out? I gathered myself. I worked every moment I could and did well on the next singing quiz.

There was another thought lingering in the back of my mind: I had to take this course for the next three semesters. My major required a total of four courses of aural theory. I was frightened and downright terrified.

The moment called on me to create an ingenious solution to what felt like an insurmountable task.

Tune in to next week’s post to see where the story ends up…!