Starting Again

When I turned 12, and started 7th grade, my parents had a rule that all of the kids had to play an instrument in the Junior High School Band. My 2 older brothers both played, one played the Trumpet and one played the Saxophone. When it was my turn to pick an instrument, I had no idea what to choose. My oldest brother, the Trumpet playing one, told me to play the oboe. I didn't even know what an oboe was. I read the paper that the band teacher gave to me when I signed up for Summer Band class and hadn't decided what to play yet, and it said that you needed long fingers (check), excellent breathing capacity (um... does asthma count?), and an okay singing voice (HAHA!!!). Well, I decided to listen to my brother and decided to give the oboe a chance.

The first year or so that I played, I honestly sounded like a duck. Laugh, it's okay. I do! I can specifically remember my brother (the same one that insisted I play this particular instrument) shutting my door, and moving to the other end of the house while I practiced, so that he wouldn't have to listen to me! I was not very good, but I loved to play. I understood the music, and felt like I could really express myself through it. By the time I was in 9th grade, I was actually starting to sound okay! I worked very hard at playing, and my piano teacher talked my parents into getting me a private teacher. I started to take lessons, and was preparing to go to a district solo festival, which my piano teacher was accompanying me at, when she heard a recording of my oboe teacher, and told my parent's I needed a new teacher, because I was better than her! I had practiced, and worked so hard, that I was better than my teacher. I went to that festival and was rated a 1+, which is the highest you can get.

I found a new teacher, started going to lessons with her once a week. I auditioned for the high school band, and I actually got into the top Symphonic Band, and got First Chair (the principal/solo playing) Oboe! I was so excited. There were 3 oboes in our band, and I got First Chair, the Second and Third Chair were both older than me, and I felt amazing! My hard work was paying off.

One day I was practicing, I would practice everyday for around 2 hours, and my brother (yup, the same one) came into my room, and sat on my bed, and listened to me practice. He sat there for the rest of my practice time, probably about 30 minutes, and just watched and listened to me play. I don't think he remembers that, it probably didn't mean much to him, but to me it was everything. To me I had finally gotten good enough that I no longer sounded like a duck! I sounded good.

I kept playing all through High School, I was offered a full-ride scholarship, and turned it down and got married instead. I stopped playing for a few years. I focused on kids, and Hubby, and thought for a while that I had lost everything that I had worked so hard at. I finally started playing again in about October, and performed for the first time in an Orchestra Setting in December when we played "Handel's Messiah". I am now playing with a smaller group playing "Bach's Magnificat".

My point in this story is that just because you feel like you have lost something, or a part of you, doesn't mean that you really have. You can always go back. I have had to work hard, I'm not where I was in High School. I did lose some things. Like terminology for instance. But with more hard work, I can gain it all back.

I am teaching now, and my true hope is that one day I can tell my student that she is better than me! I would love to teach someone to the point that I really can't go anymore.

Don't give up. Keep working. Pick up something that you put down. Start again!