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Autism & Disability

Choral Potpourri/Choral Ethics: Autism Awareness Month

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“Autism is part of who I am.” Temple Grandin


“Mrs. Amenta, we have to be kind to those poor parents. They have children with autism and have no hope.” For some reason, Dr. Marguerite’s* comment just ticked me off. This was about 20 years ago and I was the president of a local chapter of the Autism Society of America. Dr. Marguerite was a speaker at one of our monthly meetings and I was trying to get things organized before everyone got there. She spoke patronizingly about our members as we got her materials set up. She never realized that I too was one of “those poor parents” and she was actually offending me.

My eldest son has autism and if you think I’m sensitive about it, you would be wrong. I accept it and him for who he is. I love him because he is my son and because, despite his disability, his sweet, loving personality comes through. I am realistic but I also am able to see his potential. It is so much better to focus on what he can do rather than what he can’t. Russell is a person, not a disability, and is worthy of respect.

Our family has tried to put a face on autism by being advocates in our autism journey. My husband, a physician, wrote the first children’s book about autism, which was updated with a new look and title in 2011. I have worked with parents groups, siblings groups and have been a music inclusion consultant. And have been a mentor for choirs of adults with developmental disabilities of all sorts. We are active in advocacy. No one should feel sorry for us; this is our life and we live it as well as we can.

Of course, I fought for him when he was in school. I fought for him to be a music inclusion student when he began high school. At our first IEP meeting, I suggested he be in orchestra as an inclusion student. Our Staffing Team was dumbfounded that I had the nerve to suggest it! What they didn’t realize was the orchestra director was the spouse of my other sons’ piano teacher and I had already spoken with him. He agreed and was excited since he knew Russ came from a family of musicians. The Team finally agreed (I wouldn’t sign the IEP unless they at least tried it) to only the first ten minutes of class. I figured getting his foot in the door was better than nothing.

A week or so later, I got a message from the school, asking me to sign off on an amendment to his IEP. When I returned the call, I was flabbergasted to learn they wanted to extend the time he was in orchestra. The professionals thought since he was doing so well, it would be in his best interest to stay for the whole class. Who was I to argue with the professionals???!!!??? If they wanted to think it was their idea in the first place, far be it from me to rock the boat when I was getting what I wanted. He did extremely well and ended up conducting the orchestra for their Alma Mater at a concert toward the end of his high school years. He made many, many friends and enriched his classmates’ lives as well; a win/win as far as I’m concerned.

Dr. Marguerite’s presentation itself was okay all those years ago. The one thing that I remember from her speech was she was talking down to us. She seemed to think she had all the answers and if we were more intelligent or better educated or…something…we wouldn’t have a child with autism. What she didn’t acknowledge was EVERYONE will be affected by disability, through no fault of their own, at some point in their lives. You might have a cousin with Downs Syndrome or a grandparent with dementia. Your mother might have macular degeneration and go blind or your neighbor might have a child with autism. Someone you love will be disabled.

When you are asked to have a music inclusion student in your choir, think how you would feel if it were your child. Don’t feel sympathy for them, feel compassion for them. Instead of focusing on how good it feels for you; focus on how good you are making them feel. It will make you feel good. But whatever opportunities you will be creating for them will far outlast your thrill. And that’s a good thing.

NOTE to ChoralNet Readers: I have run this Blog sometime during April (Autism Awareness Month) every year I have been a regular Blogger for ChoralNet. If you have watched my virtual blogs, you have heard Russ vocalizing or seen a flash of him as he walks behind me. He is very much a part of our family and our lives, and he will continue to make “Russell Cameos” as long as I do the virtual blogs. I hope today’s Blog will inspire you to look at disability differently.

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/

Choral Potpourri/Choral Ethics: “………and the tongue of the dumb shall sing”

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As I mentioned last week, for the rest of the month of December Choral Potpourri/Choral Ethics will be running some of our “oldie but goodie” blogs from past Decembers. This is one of my favorites! MLGA

I love “Messiah”. Truth be told, it is probably one of my favorite large choral work.  There’s a little something for everyone–from show piece arias to choruses that are both difficult and poignant to recitatives that move the story along while being musically interesting. The story that is told, using scriptures from both the Old and New Testaments, can be appreciated by all.

Traditionally, it is performed during the Advent and Christmas seasons but it is really a Lenten work, first performed and commissioned for Lent.  We as choral musicians often chop it up to fit our needs.  And, masterwork that it is, it adapts, no matter if we sing only the Christmas portions—plus “Hallelujah”—or the Lenten portions or anything in between.  Whatever we do is probably fine, since George F. Handel had different versions, depending on the soloist available.

I have sung, conducted, studied and listened to “Messiah” since I was a little girl.  My Mom was a coloratura soprano and her preparations for “Rejoice” are part of my Christmas memories as much as decorating the house and baking cookies are.  I first sang “For Unto Us a Child is Born” when I was about 12 or 13, being allowed to sing with the adult choir because they needed more altos and I was singing alto at that point in my life.  I learned “He Shall Feed His Flocks” as my first aria of any sort, but not the recitative for some reason.

I was about 18 or 19 when I received my own “Messiah” score—G. Schirmer of course—as a Christmas gift from my mother. Mom told me to learn the arias and recitatives because they were money-making for any good soloist. And I did.  When I officially ‘became’ a soprano in college, I began to learn each aria and recitative from beginning to end, starting with “There Were Shepherds” and ending with “If God Be for Us” as well as everything in between. I conducted and prepared “Hallelujah” in an undergrad conducting class, using my own score, and have marks and comments in the margins from my dear Dr. Larson, which I treasure.

Conducting “Messiah” is always challenging, no matter who the singers are.  I have markings and notes and comments in my score from long ago performances as well as more recent gigs that remind me anything can happen and often does. I have had to sing as well as conduct a few times, because sopranos have gotten sick at the last moment and there wasn’t time to get anyone else.  I have had singers and instrumentalist faint. Conducting choral portions for a “Do-It-Yourself Messiah” has brought the craziest moments, with a youth symphony playing and soloists from the community. I have had to teach a conductor—who normally works with junior high string players—how to conduct recitatives because the “powers-that-be” wanted an instrumental conductor and not ‘just’ a choral person, with interesting results.

Still, the text moves me.  The choruses move me.  The music moves me.  I can be reserved and professional most of the time but some turn of phrase, some musical line will strike me and tears come to my eyes briefly as I conduct. Some moment in the performance will reach me, jaded old musician that I am, and it is like I am hearing it for the first time.

One of the recitatives always gets me, no matter who is singing, who is playing or if I am performing or conducting.  It is sung by the alto, thank goodness, and it is the recitative I didn’t learn as a teenager.  The text, taken from the Prophecy of Isaiah, tells what will happen when the Messiah comes:

                        “Then shall the eyes of the blind be open’d,

                        And the ears of the deaf unstopped.

                        Then shall the lame man leap as an hart,

                        And the tongue of the dumb shall sing.”

It so moves me, I think because it reminds me of my son, Russell, who has autism and who cannot speak.  I like to think that recitative is meant for him and all people like him. I am comforted to know, even in this great work, someone thought enough to include this text. And I love it even more.

Until next week, be well and be safe!

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/

Choral Potpourri/Choral Ethics: Staying On Track

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“What is a weed? A plant whose virtues have never been discovered.” Ralph Waldo Emerson

Today is the first Thursday of December. In normal times, I’d be reminding you to slow down and relax. Perhaps I’d be clever and suggest you stop and take time to smell the Christmas Cookies. In years past, I’d advise not to let snowstorms or sick sopranos get you down when they force a change in your plans but this year, what can I say? Our plans are already so mucked up, there isn’t much to say.

Some of you are doing remote or virtual concerts and worship services. Some of you may be playing in-person to a few folks, spread out, but there’s no singing.  In addition, you feel like you’re doing it wrong, whatever “it” is, and no one can tell you differently since they also feel they are doing “it” wrong. Some of you may be doing NOTHING and feel sad and empty but also feel you shouldn’t feel that way because at least you have your health. It’s all been a swirl of emotions this year and each one of us are feeling things we have never felt before.

Many of us feel unsettled and uncomfortable because we are off our schedule for the first time in our professional lives. The last time I did NOT have a Christmas gig–of some sort–was when I was expecting my youngest in mid-December and was just too uncomfortable (and HUGE) to do anything. The following year, I had just been hired for a church position and was preparing to begin the New Year with a new job. Since then, I’ve done something Holiday Music related almost every year; and it’s been awhile.

One thing, one person really, who has helped me stay on schedule and helped me (and our family) have some structure during the Pandemic is Russell, my son with autism. Russ doesn’t care if we don’t have deadlines or rehearsals and can eat when we want, he just wants his dinner at the usual time. He doesn’t care if we’re binge-watching “Miss Marple” or “Vera,” he wants his shower and to go to bed when he’s used to. And his breakfast–with the one cup of coffee he’s allowed per day–better be ready when gets up or he’ll start looking for people to make it. Autism isn’t usually looked upon as a positive thing, but in these times that’s the way I feel. Those of you with young children on schedules probably feel the same way; being forced to have some part of your normal life is a blessing during the Pandemic.

I am getting out my Christmas decorations (and decorated for Thanksgiving and Halloween) in the next few days. Russ looks forward to the wreaths and the red bows and the Nutcrackers and that’s what he’s going to get, especially this year. It’s something I can do that’s “normal” for our family.

So that’s my advice to you during this strange year; try to do some of the normal things you do. Bake the cookies and fry the Latkes and decorate. As Ben suggested a few weeks ago, sing in the privacy of your own home. Do something that feels normal because there IS light at the end of the tunnel!

For the rest of December, I’ll be rerunning a few seasonal blogs from the last few years, updating them for our current situation when appropriate.

Until next week, be well and be safe!

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/

Choral Potpourri/Choral Ethics: Autism Awareness Month

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“Autism is part of who I am.” Temple Grandin

This was written and scheduled before COVID-19 changed our world. Please enjoy and hope we all are soon back to normal soon!

“Mrs. Amenta, we have to be kind to those poor parents. They have children with autism and have no hope.” For some reason, Dr. Marguerite’s* comment just ticked me off. This was about 18 years ago and I was the president of a local chapter of the Autism Society of America. Dr. Marguerite was a speaker at one of our monthly meetings and I was trying to get things organized before everyone got there. She spoke patronizingly about our members as we got her materials set up. She never realized that I too was one of “those poor parents” and she was actually offending me.

My eldest son has autism and if you think I’m sensitive about it, you would be wrong. I accept it and him for who he is. I love him because he is my son and because, despite his disability, his sweet, loving personality comes through. I am realistic but I also am able to see his potential. It is so much better to focus on what he can do rather than what he can’t. Russell is a person, not a disability, and is worthy of respect.

Our family has tried to put a face on autism by being advocates in our autism journey. My husband, a physician, wrote the first children’s book about autism, which was updated with a new look and title in 2011. I have worked with parents groups, siblings groups and have been a music inclusion consultant. And have been a mentor for choirs of adults with developmental disabilities of all sorts. We are active in advocacy. No one should feel sorry for us; this is our life and we live it as well as we can.

Of course, I fought for him when he was in school. I fought for him to be a music inclusion student when he began high school. At our first IEP meeting, I suggested he be in orchestra as an inclusion student. Our Staffing Team was dumbfounded that I had the nerve to suggest it! What they didn’t realize was the orchestra director was the spouse of my other sons’ piano teacher and I had already spoken with him. He agreed and was excited since he knew Russ came from a family of musicians. The Team finally agreed (I wouldn’t sign the IEP unless they at least tried it) to only the first ten minutes of class. I figured getting his foot in the door was better than nothing.

A week or so later, I got a message from the school, asking me to sign off on an amendment to his IEP. When I returned the call, I was flabbergasted to learn they wanted to extend the time he was in orchestra. The professionals thought since he was doing so well, it would be in his best interest to stay for the whole class. Who was I to argue with the professionals???!!!??? If they wanted to think it was their idea in the first place, far be it from me to rock the boat when I was getting what I wanted. He did extremely well and ended up conducting the orchestra for their Alma Mater at a concert toward the end of high school years. He made many, many friends and enriched his classmates’ lives as well; a win/win as far as I’m concerned.

Dr. Marguerite’s presentation itself was okay all those years ago. The one thing that I remember from her speech was she was talking down to us. She seemed to think she had all the answers and if we were more intelligent or educated or…something…we wouldn’t have a child with autism. What she didn’t acknowledge was EVERYONE will be affected by disability, through no fault of their own, at some point in their lives. You might have a cousin with Downs Syndrome or a grandparent with dementia. Your mother might have macular degeneration and go blind or your neighbor might have a child with autism. Someone you love will be disabled.

When you are asked to have a music inclusion student in your choir, think how you would feel if it were your child. Don’t feel sympathy for them, feel compassion for them. Instead of focusing on how good it feels for you; focus on how good you are making them feel. It will make you feel good. But whatever opportunities you will be creating for them will far outlast your thrill. And that’s a good thing.

*Name Withheld

Choral Potpourri/Choral Ethics:”…….and the tongue of the dumb shall sing.”

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I love “Messiah”. Truth be told, it is probably my favorite large choral work.  There’s a little something for everyone–from show piece arias to choruses that are both difficult and poignant to recitatives that move the story along while being musically interesting. The story that is told, using scriptures from both the Old and New Testaments, can be appreciated by all.

Traditionally, it is performed during the Advent and Christmas seasons but it is really a Lenten work, first performed and commissioned for Lent.  We as choral musicians often chop it up to fit our needs.  And, masterwork that it is, it adapts, no matter if we sing only the Christmas portions—plus “Hallelujah”—or the Lenten portions or anything in between.  Whatever we do is probably fine, since George F. Handel had different versions, depending on the soloist available.

I have sung, conducted, studied and listened to “Messiah” since I was a little girl.  My Mom was a coloratura soprano and her preparations for “Rejoice” are part of my Christmas memories as much as decorating the house and baking cookies are.  I first sang “For Unto Us a Child is Born” when I was about 12 or 13, being allowed to sing with the adult choir because they needed more altos and I was singing alto at that point in my life.  I learned “He Shall Feed His Flocks” as my first aria of any sort, but not the recitative for some reason.

I was about 18 or 19 when I received my own “Messiah” score—G. Schirmer of course—as a Christmas gift from my mother. Mom told me to learn the arias and recitatives because they were money-making for any good soloist. And I did.  When I officially ‘became’ a soprano in college, I began to learn each aria and recitative from beginning to end, starting with “There Were Shepherds” and ending with “If God Be for Us” as well as everything in between. I conducted and prepared “Hallelujah” in an undergrad conducting class, using my own score, and have marks and comments in the margins from my dear Dr. Larson, which I treasure.

Conducting “Messiah” is always challenging, no matter who the singers are.  I have markings and notes and comments in my score from long ago performances as well as more recent gigs that remind me anything can happen and often does. I have had to sing as well as conduct a few times, because sopranos have gotten sick at the last moment and there wasn’t time to get anyone else.  I have had singers and instrumentalist faint. Conducting choral portions for a “Do-It-Yourself Messiah” has brought the craziest moments, with a youth symphony playing and soloists from the community. I have had to teach a conductor—who normally works with junior high string players—how to conduct recitatives because the “powers-that-be” wanted an instrumental conductor and not ‘just’ a choral person, with interesting results.

Still, the text moves me.  The choruses move me.  The music moves me.  I can be reserved and professional most of the time but some turn of phrase, some musical line will strike me and tears come to my eyes briefly as I conduct. Some moment in the performance will reach me, jaded old musician that I am, and it is like I am hearing it for the first time.

One of the recitatives always gets me, no matter who is singing, who is playing or if I am performing or conducting.  It is sung by the alto, thank goodness, and it is the recitative I didn’t learn as a teenager.  The text, taken from the Prophecy of Isaiah, tells what will happen when the Messiah comes:

                        “Then shall the eyes of the blind be open’d,

                        And the ears of the deaf unstopped.

                        Then shall the lame man leap as an hart,

                        And the tongue of the dumb shall sing.”

It so moves me, I think because it reminds me of my son, Russell, who has autism and who cannot speak.  I like to think that recitative is meant for him and all people like him. I am comforted to know, even in this great work, someone thought enough to include this text. And I love it even more.

Choral Potpourri/Choral Ethics: Autism Awareness Month

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“Autism is part of who I am.” Temple Grandin

“Mrs. Amenta, we have to be kind to those poor parents. They have children with autism and have no hope.” For some reason, Dr. Marguerite’s* comment just ticked me off. This was about 18 years ago and I was the president of a local chapter of the Autism Society of America. Dr. Marguerite was a speaker at one of our monthly meetings and I was trying to get things organized before everyone got there. She spoke patronizingly about our members as we got her materials set up. She never realized that I too was one of “those poor parents” and she was actually offending me.

My eldest son has autism and if you think I’m sensitive about it, you would be wrong. I accept it and him for who he is. I love him because he is my son and because, despite his disability, his sweet, loving personality comes through. I am realistic but I also am able to see his potential. It is so much better to focus on what he can do rather than what he can’t. Russell is a person, not a disability, and is worthy of respect.

Our family has tried to put a face on autism by being advocates in our autism journey. My husband, a physician, wrote the first children’s book about autism, which was updated with a new look and title in 2011. I have worked with parents groups, siblings groups and have been a music inclusion consultant. And have been a mentor for choirs of adults with developmental disabilities of all sorts. We are active in advocacy. No one should feel sorry for us; this is our life and we live it as well as we can.

Of course, I fought for him when he was in school. I fought for him to be a music inclusion student when he began high school. At our first IEP meeting, I suggested he be in orchestra as an inclusion student. Our Staffing Team was dumbfounded that I had the nerve to suggest it! What they didn’t realize was the orchestra director was the spouse of my other sons’ piano teacher and I had already spoken with him. He agreed and was excited since he knew Russ came from a family of musicians. The Team finally agreed (I wouldn’t sign the IEP unless they at least tried it) to only the first ten minutes of class. I figured getting his foot in the door was better than nothing.

A week or so later, I got a message from the school, asking me to sign off on an amendment to his IEP. When I returned the call, I was flabbergasted to learn they wanted to extend the time he was in orchestra. The professionals thought since he was doing so well, it would be in his best interest to stay for the whole class. Who was I to argue with the professionals???!!!??? If they wanted to think it was their idea in the first place, far be it from me to rock the boat when I was getting what I wanted. He did extremely well and ended up conducting the orchestra for their Alma Mater at a concert toward the end of high school years. He made many, many friends and enriched his classmates’ lives as well; a win/win as far as I’m concerned.

Dr. Marguerite’s presentation itself was okay all those years ago. The one thing that I remember from her speech was she was talking down to us. She seemed to think she had all the answers and if we were more intelligent or educated or…something…we wouldn’t have a child with autism. What she didn’t acknowledge was EVERYONE will be affected by disability, through no fault of their own, at some point in their lives. You might have a cousin with Downs Syndrome or a grandparent with dementia. Your mother might have macular degeneration and go blind or your neighbor might have a child with autism. Someone you love will be disabled.

When you are asked to have a music inclusion student in your choir, think how you would feel if it were your child. Don’t feel sympathy for them, feel compassion for them. Instead of focusing on how good it feels for you; focus on how good you are making them feel. It will make you feel good. But whatever opportunities you will be creating for them will far outlast your thrill. And that’s a good thing.

*Name Withheld

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