FINDING MY VOICE

Music continued to play an important role in my life during my high school years. I continued writing songs and performed at churches around town, often singing two or three songs.

I also sang with the school choir. I dreamed of singing with the Chorale, the mixed choir which represented the best voices in the school. But each year I remained with the girls' choir. I became frustrated, noting that many of the students who were being accepted could not remain in tune without relying on others. I struggled with chronic respiratory problems which made my voice weak; but I had perfect pitch.

Desperate to make the needed improvements, I signed up for voice lessons. My first teacher was a fine teacher, but hist style did not match my needs. Try as I might, I could not master the concept of "head voice". My high notes squeaked, and my voice was thin. Finally, frustrated with my lack of progress, I quit during the middle of my sophomore year.

The girls' choir took a trip that spring. While on the trip, I confided in the director about my frustration. I also took an opportunity to demonstrate my abilities in a way which I hoped wasn't too arrogant. While walking down a path, I heard a car horn being blown. "Hmm," I said as naturally as I could. "It's a major third."

The director stood still, picking out the notes one by one. "It is," she finally acknowledged. I said no more.

That summer, she offered a six-week course of individualized voice lessons. I signed up, eager to take advantage of her assistance. We worked hard to undo some of the damage done by the techniques I had developed during my previous lessons. I was working as a receptionist that summer, and this became an advantage in my voice lessons. Answering the phone became an opportunity for me to practice relaxing while using my voice. I had never realized how tense I was when I spoke and sang. The more I practiced, the more I began to notice improvement. Respiratory problems still plagued me; but I noticed the tension returning only when I became excited or frightened. I even began to be able to speak while crying, something I had not been able to do before because of the intense constriction of my throat.

During my junior year, I began taking lessons from another voice teacher. She was a student pursuing her Master's degree at a local university. Our lessons were very relaxed, and she often told stories or conversed to build rapport with me. She used that rapport to make her points. During one lesson, she stopped me in the middle of a song. "You're too timid," she said. "These people are stupid. You've got something to say, and you've got to make them listen to you!"

When the Chorale list was posted at the end of my junior year, I was not surprised to find that I wasn't on it. I didn't expect anything to change, but I needed to know the truth. A fear had been growing in my mind. Every spring, the choral groups participated in a contest which involved performing three previously rehearsed pieces and sight reading a piece which they had never seen before. I participated with the girls' choir but always sat out for the sight reading portion. I began to wonder if my inability to sight read was the reason I had never been selected to sing with the Chorale.

I knew the risks of asking. I might never learn the truth. If I did, I would be deeply hurt. But I had to know.

I asked my mother to drive me to school early one morning so that I could speak to the director of the Chorale. I only remember one thing about the meeting: his hesitant confession that my inability to sight read was, indeed, the problem.

My mother told me later that she spoke with the director of special education about investigating the possibility that this was a discriminatory act. I spoke with the director of the girls' choir, hoping only to prove that I could, indeed, sight read. I mentioned that I had learned braille music several years before while taking piano lessons.

In September, I took my place among the other members of the Chorale and read from my own copy of the music. The teacher of visually impaired students had labored over the summer to learn both print and braille music so that she could provide my pieces for use in class. I not only took my place as a leader during rehearsals; but I also participated in weekly sight reading tests and scored very well.

In the spring, I participated for the first time in the sight reading portion of the UIL contest. The most difficult part of the task was reading words and notes at the same time. I had developed a method of reading over the words quickly during the study time so that I could use my less dominant finger to follow them while concentrating more heavily on the notes during the performance.

Although he never knew it, the joke at the UIL contest was on the director. The key signature was written incorrectly in my music. We used our first minute to study the notation before singing the piece using "sol fege" syllables (do, re, mi...). When we began singing, I panicked. I was singing the wrong syllables!

I skimmed my music, trying to determine if I was in the wrong place. I wasn't. I was reading the same notes that everyone else was reading--I recognized the pitches. It was then that I discovered the mistake in the key signature. In my mind, I threw it out and replaced it with the correct one, reading the notes as they should have been read.

And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the father through him. (Colossians 3:17)

Perhaps my demonstration with the car horn lacked some humility. Perhaps singing with the Chorale doesn't matter so much now that high school is far behind me. Yet it mattered to me then and was the yardstick I used to measure my vocal abilities. I dreamed of someday performing as a ministry; and although I knew that God's call was the most important factor in whether or not such an opportunity would arise for me, I also knew that developing my talent was important. Had I not confronted the director with my questions, I would have missed the opportunity to learn what I could do--and probably an opportunity to grow as well.

The incident with the Chorale was my first real taste of what discrimination feels like. Finding a balance between standing up for what is right and fighting a battle simply for the principle behind the victory is difficult. God has granted us, His creation, with freedoms--and one of those is the freedom to judge one another. Often we use inappropriate and even unfair criteria to evaluate each other's worth or ability to contribute to what a group is doing. From that early experience, I learned that sometimes doors which God is willing to open can be blocked by the judgments of other people. Deciding on the best method for getting through or around those blocks is a matter which requires courage as well as faith, perseverance, and humility. Without these things, I could not have carried on and worked to prove that I had the qualities I needed to participate equally.