Bryson, Nora, and the Audition

These kids fight me on almost everything. 

Mrs. Corkin, your song choices are lame. Xylophones are lame. Singing is lame. 

I whine back at them, 'You're lives are lame if you're not willing to try new things!'

Towards the end of the year, I finally pick a song that they like.  I can tell. Despite their best efforts to come across as disinterested, I know they are into this song. You'll Be Back from Hamilton. Also for the first time this year, this particular class is stoked about a solo! (The first verse will be performed by "King George") 

And they immediately quiet down. They are respectful of one another's auditions. They encourage and applaud for their classmates. This is a strange experience for me: they're never this good. 

Bryson and the Audition

Think of your middle school class clown. Now surge the power up about 30%, and you have my 6th grade class clown, Bryson. 

He cannot even make it through our warm up exercises without making a strange noise/gesture/dance move to get everyone's attention. But he's a good kid. In spite of his annoying attempts for attention, I like him.

When the solo auditions roll around, Bryson is uncharacteristically bashful. He turns away when I ask him if he'd like to audition. He says, "nah" and waves away the idea. 

I push just a little, "Are you sure? I mean, dramatic loud moments where you're the center of attention... Isn't that kind of your thing?" I tease,  "You should audition if you want." 

He pauses for a moment, really pondering what I said. He says, completely straight, not even a glint of humor in his voice, "I'll only audition if everyone chants my name, loudly."

I laugh out loud. And the whole class chants his name, "BRY-SON, BRY-SON!" Eventually, he stands up, "Alright, alright, if you insist." 

How do you bottle that kind of confidence?!

Nora and the Audition

One shy girl pauses after class. "Mrs. Corkin?" She squeaks out. This is the first time I've heard her make any noise. 

"Yes, Nora?" 

"I want to audition for the solo, but I didn't want to to do it in front of everyone." 

With a huge smile, I say, "Can you do it right now? In between classes?" She nods her head and I play the music. 

She is so off key, and so off tempo, and I'm so proud. 

I tell her that she did awesome. And that I'm so glad she auditioned.  She runs out the door so suddenly that I think I said the wrong thing. 

But she reemerges from a bustling passing period hallway, with her friend from class--another shy girl. "Mrs. Corkin, Jacqueline wants to audition too." Jacqueline does not look like she wants to do anything but leave immediately. She looks terrified, and physically tries to swat the whole thing away with her hands.

"I don't want to audition"

"No, it's fine, she's cool," says her brave friend, Nora. (The 'she' in that sentence is referring to me. Which makes me feel swell-- One never gets over teenager approval of coolness.)

I ask if she would sing with Nora. She looks away, embarrassed, but nods. Then they sing it together, and it's terrible. But I'll never forget watching that one painfully shy girl helping another shy girl out of her comfort zone.  I hope they want to speak up more during class. 

They don't utter another peep for the rest of the year... But at the end of the year reflection, under the question "What is one thing you will remember and take forward from choir this year?" scrawled in barely-legible writing is Jacqueline's response: That I tried out for a solo. 

I'm delighted she will remember her bravery. I will too.