“What is success? To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate the beauty; to find the best in others; to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded!” Ralph Waldo Emerson
It is Storytime here at Choral Potpourri/Choral Ethics with a story from my own life and career. I hope it will get you thinking about how you view your own successes, be they large or small.
I’ve often thought about Cassie* in the last few years, one of my singers in the community children’s chorus I directed for ten years. Working with her changed my attitude about many things. Because of her I consider myself a success, no matter what I did before or after meeting her.
This community children chorus was part of a local parks and recreation district’s fine arts program. We were one of several performing arts groups, which included an adult chorus, community band, and a theater troupe. Occasionally, we would sing with the adult groups but mostly, we were left on our own.
I had the pleasure of developing a nice program for children 5 to ten years old, including a two-week summer choir day camp. In the beginning, we had only five kids signed up because we chose the “wrong day” for rehearsals. That’s the day of the week when everyone has their swimming or religion classes or soccer games. Changing rehearsal day for the second session made all the difference as well as maintaining similar concert dates every time.
There were times we had an older group and there were times we had a younger group. Most often, we had a mixture of ages with many of the older kids “repeaters” and the younger ones quick enough to catch right up. I loved those kids. I loved that job, until I didn’t.
It started when the supervisor who helped me develop the choral program left. I still don’t know why and, though I see her several times a year at community arts events, she’s never said. The fellow who took over was nice enough but didn’t have the same devotion toward the children’s chorus as his predecessor.
As soon as he started, instead of a per course salary, I was expected to turn in a time sheet. The “Powers That Be” believed the only work I did for the chorus was a 90-minute rehearsal every week, then a 60-minute concert at the end of the session. When I complained about doing busy work, my new boss told to record EVERYTHING, and I did. I recorded EVERYTHING, as my boss had suggested but THAT was time consuming too. I was paid more for that particular session than the previous ones and then was told I no longer had to record my hours.
One summer, after choir day camp, I decided I had had enough. The adult chorus director didn’t want our music stored with theirs. The new, state of the art facility where the park district wanted us to practice had a lousy secondhand piano which was never tuned, despite my requests. The parents of some the younger children wanted us to sing more contemporary music—think Brittney Spears. And the Stage Mothers had been AWFUL during day camp. I had already done preparation for the upcoming fall and spring sessions and decided I would turn in my resignation after the spring concert.
A week before rehearsals began, my boss asked me to call a parent who had a 4-year-old child who wanted to sing with us. I told him I wasn’t sure that was a good idea because she was probably too young. But I called as requested and the Mom told me her 4-year-old loved to sing and had a rare form of pediatric liver cancer. Cassie was in remission and Mom had promised her she could sing in a choir. I agreed to take her on but wasn’t sure it would work.
Cassie was ADORABLE! Bald from chemo, she had a wardrobe of cute hats and a bubbly personality. The older girls in the chorus fell in love with her and I had to make up a rotating schedule for them to sit next to her in rehearsal. She had the sweetest voice and LOVED “The Turkey Song,” arranged by Ruth Crawford Seeger. And she could sing, boy could she SING! She attended every rehearsal but was too ill to perform in our concert. The older girls were devastated. My boss told me after the concert, she had had a setback.
The spring session began with one of the fathers trying to bully me into changing the concert date because they were going out of the country and his daughter wouldn’t be able to sing. He threatened to talk to my boss because I wasn’t being cooperative. My boss did stick up for me, but I felt good with my decision to resign.
Things went along as I had thought they would that spring. Right after our concert, my boss asked me to collect some of my mail before he went on vacation. Along with the usual music catalogues, there was a greeting card waiting for me. I opened it up in front of him and immediately sank down; it was a “thank-you” note from Cassie’s Mom, thanking me for making the last few months of her life so happy. I cried and, when he read it, so did my boss.
Cassie had entered the hospital right around the time of our fall concert and had been there ever since, until her death a few weeks before. She loved the “Turkey Song,” and had taught it to every one of her nurses and her doctors. They would sing it when they saw her. Her Mom told me, when she could no longer talk, she still tried to sing that song. The last sounds she ever made were that damn, silly song.
I’m not crying, YOU’RE CRYING!
I still resigned.
Until next week, be well and be safe!
*Name Withheld
I am taking my Choral Ethics Blogs to my chamber choir’s Facebook page for the foreseeable future. Please join me there this morning! https://www.facebook.com/themidwestmotetsociety/
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