Bad Girl House

In the fall of 1995, I was going to go to college at the University of Akron. I had been accepted into the University, but I still needed to be accepted into the School of Music where I would be studying to become a music teacher. It was already mid-summer, and I hadn’t registered for my classes yet because, I was waiting to see what I should actually sign up for. Perspective music students had to audition to be accepted into the School of Music. I was hoping that my voice at least had the potential to be accepted. Even though I had been playing the piano for most of my life, I knew that I wasn’t good enough to compete at the college level. Since I wanted to teach choirs, I was auditioning to be a voice major. I was required to present two songs to the School of Music’s voice faculty. More often than not, I was the accompanist instead of the singer, and I definitely was not a confident soloist. Luckily, I did have one song that I felt comfortable with. I had sang it at a high school event where students receive ratings on their performances from local music teachers. I had gotten the highest possible rating, and it was the only classical solo piece I had ever learned.

When my mom and I got to the University, I had to find the room where auditions where being held. It was a bit tricky to find, because it was in the basement of the large theater across the street from the School of Music. I had to make my way through the theater’s offices to a stairwell that wound around several times. I can still hear the metallic echo of each step. When I finally reached the bottom, there were several other girls there waiting for their turns to sing. There was a music stand with instructions, and a paper to fill out with my information. When I was called walked into a room that I would spend much of my next four years in. It was a large rectangular room, with its two longer walls covered from floor to ceiling in mirrors. Professors sat in a line of chairs along one of those walls. I was told to give my music to the accompanist sitting at a grand piano on the other side of the room. He asked me to give him the tempo I wanted for my first song. Without taking a moment to calm myself down, I gave him a tempo that was much too fast. I knew as soon as I heard the introduction that I had made a huge mistake. If I had known that I could, and maybe if I hadn’t been so nervous, I would have stopped the accompanist to give him a new tempo. But he continued, and I sang that song at break neck speed. When it was over, my heart was still beating at the same pace. My second song was one that my high school’s star soprano had sang, and I had been her accompanist. I had heard it sung countless times. Over the summer I taught myself to sing it well enough to use for my audition. It was one of the lengthy arias from the opera “Sampson and Delilah”. Even before I started singing it for the professors, I was thinking about the high note in the very last phrase. I didn’t have to worry for very long, and shouldn’t have at all, because one of the professors stopped me long before I got there. I didn’t realize that was a common thing to do, so I thought they stopped because I wasn’t doing well. With a quick thank you from the faculty, I walked to the exit. My mom had been waiting in the parking lot nearby for me to finish. When we got into the car, I couldn’t help but burst into tears. I cried unconsolably all the way home. There was no way that I was going to be accepted into the School of Music after that audition. That also meant that I was never going to have the only career I had ever wanted. What was I going to do now? My dreams were crushed because I blew my audition. I felt like an eternity before I got a letter from the university. I must have read it a thousand times, because I could’t believe that it said I had been accepted. I’m still convinced that they take everyone, and then see who sinks and who swims. Either way, I was given the chance to achieve my dreams.

When I finally registered for the fall semester, many general courses were already full, leaving me with only a few times to pick from. My day on campus started at 7:00 am with English Composition I. That might have been awfully early, but having a class at his time meant that I was sure to find the perfect parking place. I had especially been looking forward to starting my classes at the School of music. I was going to be taking Music Theory, Ear Training, and Music History. I would be in a choir, and have a weekly voice lesson. I loved every minute of every class. I wanted to soak it all in. There was so much that I didn’t know. When I was in that building I was totally surrounded by music. There was almost nowhere you could go and not hear something being played or sung. Downstairs were the muffled sounds of students in practice rooms perfecting their skills. On the top floor were the sounds of people attending their lessons. As I walked through the hall that circled that floor, trumpets blended into violins, and then into voices. I never got tired of hearing everyone’s talents, but I couldn’t help feeling that I didn’t quite size up. During choir rehearsals I could hear everyone’s amazing voices, and I didn’t think that I sounded anything like them. I didn’t realize it at the time, but just listening to their example would help my skills grow. I had the pleasure of attending a studio class made up of voice majors being instructed on how to improve their pieces. My teacher, whose name was Mary, was a graduate student who was given several new freshmen as her own students. We were to attend the studio class of her voice teacher, Dr. Schiller. She reminded me very much of my old piano teacher, with her big glasses and flowing, fancy, flowery clothes. She taught many of the best sopranos at the university. I couldn’t believe how their voices soared. I was even more impressed when Dr. Schiller made them sound even better with the tiniest adjustment to their posture, or by pretending that their sound should be shimmering. I felt very incredibly lucky to be learning from both her and from one of her amazing students. Those early experiences still influence me as a musician and teacher.