On Friday Forest came home from work with a bouquet of flowers. "What is
this for?" I asked. "For making it into your orchestra," he replied
with a smile.
The day before I had auditioned for a community
group called the Loveland Orchestra, and they had let me stay for their
rehearsal that evening. It was their first rehearsal in preparation for
an all-Mozart concert on the composer's birthday (the way UISO used to
do as well). I was sitting in the first stand, filling the seat of a
cellist who was out of the country for this concert. A few years ago I
would have been terrified to play right under the conductor's nose and
next to the section principal--but that night it felt more like a
privilege and a thrill.
Warning: Partial life story to follow. Read at your own discretion.
In 2003 I arrived at the University of Illinois with my cello as a
severely unprepared freshman music major--but I was prepared in one
thing: my orchestra audition excerpts. I had taken lessons from Greg
Hamilton at ISU that summer, (after deciding to major in music almost on
a whim) and rather than spending time catching me up on my technique or
delving into repertoire, he decided to focus on preparing me for my
ensemble audition, required of all instrumental music majors. This seems
a little absurd, even looking back on the experience now. I didn't know
my scales well enough, my left hand technique was a mess, I could only
read alternate clefs with careful thought, I barely knew thumb position,
and my sight reading skills were awful. With all these outstanding
shortcomings, his main concern seemed to be making sure I had a
successful orchestra audition, which I didn't understand, but went along
with his instruction anyway. I listened to a recording specifically
coaching cellists on common orchestral excerpts. I spent hours
practicing those short excerpts that summer, and very little else. I did
mock auditions for Professor Hamilton as he drew my attention to every
detail of those little excerpts.
So, when I walked into Donald Schleicher's office, cello in hand,
for my blind audition, I was more prepared than I realized. I played the
requested excerpts as best as I could, hoping to have achieved at least
a mediocre score. When I went to check the audition results on the
music building's bulletin board, a few days later, my jaw must have
dropped--I had been placed in the top orchestra on campus, UI Symphony
Orchestra. I think even Professor Hamilton was surprised, when I told
him, but he said "Well, it'll be good for you." When I went to the first
orchestra rehearsal, the expected musicianship level was clearly beyond
anything I'd previously experienced. The conductor, Professor
Schleicher, was not the laid-back, forgiving orchestra teacher figure I
had looked to in the past, but a stern, demanding maetro whose glance
conveyed some type of musical omniscience that instilled fear in every
musician under his direction. I wondered if there must have been some
mistake in the audition process--there were, after all, plenty of music
majors in the Philharmonia Orchestra--even performance majors. What was a
little freshman music ed major, with my limited ability, doing in this
group? Sure, I could learn some snippets of tricky music if you gave me a
teacher and an entire summer, but the whole Shostakovich 12 symphony
and more, on my own, in a month? I wanted to jump into my cello case and
hide. And that was the way I felt during orchestra rehearsals the rest
of my freshman year.
 |
| January 2005, sophomore year |
But gradually, something must have happened during my undergraduate
years that changed my attitude toward orchestra. My senior year, UISO
had the opportunity to play Shotakovich 12 again, but this time at
Symphony Hall in Chicago. As we rehearsed the music for this venue, I
was flooded with memories of my freshman year. And I recognized that I
wasn't exactly the same cellist anymore. Rather than feeling overwhelmed
by feelings of inadequacy, being gripped by the fear of playing a wrong
note, and just wanting the piece to be over, I felt a genuine sense of
enjoyment from playing. I wasn't faking it anymore--I was actually
making a small contribution to the orchestra's performance, and loving
it.
Two years later, after completing my student teaching and starting
my master's program in music education, I actually opted to take
orchestra although it was no longer a requirement. I remember sitting in
UISO rehearsals that semester, feeling a little nauseous from the new
baby in my belly, but savoring the whole experience of being in
orchestra again. I remember wondering if motherhood would ever allow me
to play in an orchestra again someday.
Two babies and two moves later, I've found my way into an orchestra
again--one I can hopefully belong to for a while. More than anything, I
feel grateful--grateful to my parents for buying me a cello at age 14.
Grateful for the patience my teachers and mentors have had with me as
I've gone from fearing music to embracing it. Grateful to my husband and
children for giving me the time to hold on to my cello, even for just a
few minutes a day. Grateful to to have music in my life--because it is
more than just a hobby for me--it is an element that adds an entire
dimension of richness to my existence. Thank you, God, for the gift of
music. And thank you for ten fingers to play the cello.
