Church Choir

“To laugh often and much; to win the respect of the intelligent people and the affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty; to find the beauty in others; to leave the world a bit better whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition; to know that one life has breathed easier because you lived here. This is to have succeeded.” Ralph Waldo Emerson

Today’s Choral Ethics blog is a rerun from several years ago. It’s still applicable as we begin to get back to normal. MLGA

Today I ran into a former singer of mine, a tenor from an old church job. Always a lovely man, he and his wife were two of my favorite singers and I was delighted to see him. He told me the choir still talks about me, always about something good he assured me, and they miss me. Still. I left in 2004.

I didn’t want to leave, not really, but all sorts of little things about my job and about the church had bothered me. I was crabby, I was stressed, and those little things bothered me more and more. My boss (clergy) was married to another professional church musician and felt the need to explain (over and over) how HE numbered the cubbies in HIS choir room at HIS church and maybe I should try it that way. There was nothing wrong with the numbering system of the cubbies in our choir room—it worked just fine for my choir– so I paid no attention to her jabbering. But every time I saw her or talked to her, she pointed out that darn numbering. Of the cubbies. In the church choir room. Doing it her spouse’s way would have meant A LOT of busy work for me, to re-number everything and would have meant the choir would have had to be on board to make it happen; I wanted to work on music with them, not argue with them! This Clergy tended to “throw me under the bus” when it came to taking responsibility for unpopular decisions, so no way did I want to do this. This was not the reason I left, but it was part of a bigger reason.

I loved that job. I loved the people in my choirs, the bells, the children, the adults and my sacred dance troop. I loved their musical abilities and the music we made together, I loved their families, and I loved the rest of the staff (mostly) too. I worked with a total of three organists (not including interims and subs); one of whom I really liked, one who was a newbie and had to be taught everything –we got along okay for the most part—and one who was a total pain. If you saw me work with those three, you would have had a hard time knowing which was which—except for the newbie—because I tried to always be professional, no matter what.

When I spoke with that tenor today, he told me the people who have replaced me are perfectly nice people and the musical standard I had held them to has been upheld. But something is missing. He said I had a certain something they miss; and they miss me. I told him I hoped the choir didn’t bring me up to their new directors often because there is something obnoxious about THAT! He assured me, I was only mentioned occasionally and never to put anyone down. Our conversation made me feel good, as if I had made a difference in the life of that church. It was comforting to know I was still remembered fondly. I had often wondered if I was successful in what I set out to do, which was to rise above the ordinary. Maybe I did.

Until next week, be well and safe!

I have been taking my Choral Ethics Blogs to my chamber choir’s Facebook page but will take the month of August off. See you in September!

“A story should have a beginning, a middle and an end, but not necessarily in that order.” Jean-Luc Godard

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 treat those you work for and with, in the future.

It was one of those days, one in which I had many little things to accomplish. Nothing big or especially time consuming, but just a lot of teensy chores. Little details needed to be addressed in many aspects of my life and I felt stressed to get them all done before rehearsal that night. But I did.

I was directing a decent church choir in a medium-sized church and always planned my rehearsals the afternoon before and sometimes, the afternoon of the day before. This rehearsal (because I knew I would be busy), I had done my planning the day before. I listed the announcements I needed to make about several upcoming services in my planning so I would not forget anything. I felt confident I had ticked off all the boxes and it flowed well, or so I thought.

The next morning, I got a message from my supervising clergy to come in for a meeting to discuss something important. I was confused about what could be so important she needed to call a special meeting, and came in as requested. It turns out, the accompanist/organist felt I didn’t go into as much detail about those upcoming services as I should have and told the pastor. Instead of elaborating himself when I made the announcements or taking me aside after rehearsal, he tattled on me. I explained to the pastor what I said, and even happened to have my rehearsal plan in my briefcase to show her. She didn’t seem to think what I said was exactly wrong, just not enough. I felt pretty crummy about the whole thing. This incident was not what finally caused me to resign from a job I loved, but it was a contributing factor.

The accompanist/organist was young, and this was his first church job. He was a good musician but young, inexperienced and got flustered with all the service music. I finally helped him stay “in the service” by using sticky notes with numbers on them to keep him from being confused on what to play, when. When he was late to rehearsals (which was often), I covered for him and played myself until he got there. There were several times he was late to a Sunday warm-up, and we worried he wouldn’t show at all. Again, I covered for him until I couldn’t one Sunday because he missed his Prelude. He believed I tattled on him, but I did not. And that’s why he tattled on me about something so insignificant.

I should have gone to the Personnel committee about his tardiness from the beginning. Several members of my choir were on that committee, and one person’s spouse was, so it was not exactly a secret. I’ve always believed we should “pick our battles” and his occasional lateness never bothered me. But missing his Prelude could not be overlooked.  I was HIS supervisor, since I was a senior staff member, and was not tattling by mentioning it to the pastor. When she wondered where he was, I told her he had not yet gotten to church, and she was NOT happy. He walked in five minutes after that, and was a bit ticked we skipped over his Prelude since it would make everything else late if he played it.

Looking back, I probably should have said more about those services in my announcements that evening. If that young, inexperienced accompanist/organist had spoken up or had taken me aside after, I would have been fine with it. No good deed goes unpunished.

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/

“Tact is the ability to describe others as they see themselves.” Abraham Lincoln

The last few days, I’ve been thinking about a few of my more memorable students and choir members, starting with one of my first jobs, and continuing on to the group I conduct now. Some of them were funny and some were irritating. They had one thing in common; their behaviors were such that I can’t help but remember them.

Emily* wasn’t really one of my singers but a student in a Humanities class I taught at a Catholic Girls School. She had recently lost her mother, and her father thought being around other girls and women would be good for her, despite being Jewish and attending a Catholic Girls School. Em was obsessed with Ted Nugent. I mean, that girl would bring him up in almost every class, even when we were talking about the Renaissance! For their final paper, I gave the class a choice of writing about any artist or musician from any Era we studied in class. Her final paper was about, you guessed it, Ted Nugent, and was actually quite good.

I’ve had some wacky private piano/voice students, but their parents/spouses were often wackier. The husband who thought my electronic metronome was out of date, therefore I couldn’t possible be a good teacher AND TOLD ME SO. The mother who told me I couldn’t possibly teach her son (or direct him in a choir) because I couldn’t sing all the notes in his baritone range. When I used the term “Middle C” with a three-year-old student, her father was furious because I did not use the “correct” term of either C4 or C’. For a three-year-old.

Richie*, a tenor, would greet me at every rehearsal during Lent with, “what’s the dirge of the week?” In that same choir, I also had a on again/off again tenor (it’s always the tenors) who would demand to sing “How Great Thou Art” whenever the mood struck him, usually that Sunday. He complained when I told him we already had rehearsed anthems but offered he could sing in two weeks. When he DID sing, he made such a big deal of it, pushing the mic away from the Lectern and singing as loudly as he could, that I cringed every time he did it. Clergy cringed too. I probably let him sing too many times, but he was LOUD in every way!

Jana* and Glenna* were in the midst of “Diva Wars” when I arrived. Both felt they should be the one to sing “O Holy Night” on Christmas Eve. Did I mention I began this position in late August? That fall while they were sniping at each other and at me, I decided NO ONE would sing “O Holy Night,” which irritated them both. But it bought me a year to figure out the best recourse. I decided to allow one to sing “O Holy Night” and the other to sing “Gesu Bambino,” and I didn’t care who did what. But I had a stipulation; the following year, they would switch and sing the piece that hadn’t sung the year before. It worked out but it was snarky going for a while.

I have a soft spot for Connie*, poor old thing. She was in her late 70s/early 80s when I first met her, and she had a vibrato you could drive a truck through. I was told she had been a fine soprano in her younger days, but it was hard to believe. She was such a sweet, chatty lady, in charge of the Women’s Organization’s yearly fashion show, and had a sense of style and kindness but she was always late. Always. She lived less than five minutes from church, but her husband expected her to make a huge meal every day, even on choir practice nights, as well as finish the dishes before she left. I don’t recall her ever being on time for choir practice. She had colitis, with flare-ups almost every Sunday morning, so she would sneak into the choir loft, not having been to our warm-ups, during the organ prelude. Her assigned seat was next to me, so she would describe IN DETAIL why she was late, while I was trying to listen YIKES! She loved me and I loved her, so I made allowances, but she was something!

One of the first singers in my chamber choir was Linda*. She had a degree in voice and was an excellent musician but thought our repertoire was too difficult. She had to practice—I made her cry with Poulenc—and felt she should just be able to come to rehearsal and be done with it. She sang alto because we needed altos at the time but claimed she was a first soprano. I thought she was more of a second, but since she was singing alto, it didn’t matter. She asked to sing soprano one concert cycle, but she was the only alto, so I told her no. We had two more altos the next cycle, so she sang soprano, and thought she would be happy. After that concert cycle, she told me unless I chose easier music, she wouldn’t be back. She wasn’t.

Until next week, be well and be safe!

*Names Modified

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/