Tomorrow's Music Nerds

"Nerds like us are allowed to be un-ironically enthusiastic about stuff… Nerds are allowed to love stuff, like jump-up-and-down-in-the-chair-can’t-control-yourself love it.... When people call people nerds, mostly what they’re saying is ‘you like stuff.’ Which is just not a good insult at all. Like, ‘you are too enthusiastic about the miracle of human consciousness’.” -John Green

Every Monday afternoon at 4 o'clock, I accompany the children's choir at Grace Episcopal Church. 18 months ago, the job didn't seem like something I would love that much. The rehearsals were often tedious, which is to be expected when you're working with 7-9 year olds. I sometimes sat at my keyboard for a solid 10 minutes without playing anything. Situations like the following occurred frequently: 

Choir director: Now, we're going to work on those eight measures, all right? Yes, I see that hand. What is it? 

1st child: My dog is going to have babies next week. 

Choir director: Oh my, that is just wonderful. Now, let's work on these eight measures. (another hand goes up)  Oh yes, sweetheart, what is it? 

2nd child: My mom's aunt's sister is in the hospital because she smokes too much, so my mom is going to see her. 

Choir director: Well, we will definitely pray for her. Now, we need to get to (sees another hand), yes, in the back? 

3rd child: Where are we at again? 

(Choir director and I exchange a wordless look fraught with amusement, frustration, and sympathy.)

Choir director: (deep breath) We are on page 3, the first eight measures.....

And on and on it would go. First one kid, then another, until finally Mrs. Wubbena made a rule about only bathroom breaks or music questions being allowed. The odd comment about somebody's father's brother's aunt-in-law's best friend who is dying of cancer still comes up, though. Oddly enough, so do comments about people's cats. 

In the beginning, it was hard to keep them focused for ten minutes at a time. Mrs. Wubbena was constantly doing clapping games to hold their attention and switch between tasks. She started teaching them basic solfege, though hardly any of them could maintain pitch. It took seven weeks of rehearsals before their first song was hearable. I spent much of those seven weeks hardly playing. 

As the weeks passed, however, things changed. The kids started keeping pitch, staying in rhythm, and following dynamic changes. They did hand motions to solfege. Mrs. Wubbena started asking questions like, "What does mezzo piano mean?" Half a dozen little bodies jumped out off their choir benches to yell out, "Medium soft! Medium soft!" The irony was lost on them, but Mrs. Wubbena and I exchanged a silent smile. 

The kids now demonstrate traits typical of choirs. They all bring pencils to class, and immediately pass one along if their neighbor doesn't have one. They snap to attention when Mrs. Wubbena raises her hands to signal them to stand. Some of them even represent choir stereotypes. 

Exhibit A: The Know It All Soprano 

8 year old girl with a squeaky voice: So, um, there were some people who didn't sing that last word the right way. It's supposed to be "ahnd" not "aaynd."  Also, not everyone took a breath when they were supposed to. 

Exhibit B: The Editor

9 year old boy with glasses: On page seven, they misspelled the word "the" as "thes". Can we scratch out that extra "s"? Also, there's an e in the word "cross" on the next page. That is wrong!" 

Exhibit C: The Clown In The Back

8 year old boy: (in the middle of a very serious discussion about reverence during the worship service) Mrs. Wubbena? I think we should have a dance party during Communion on Sunday.  

My favorite trait that they demonstrate is knowing when they like a piece, and voicing their unequivocal enthusiasm for it. When they like my piano part they always let me know, sometimes coming up with very original compliments. 

1st boy: Miss Rachel, your playing is better than ice cream. 

2nd boy: No! It's better than melting ice cream! 

I started out being the accompanist for a little children's choir, but in the eighteen months since it has become more than that to me. For a few months, I guess I thought the kids didn't really notice me. And then one day, one of the girls stayed after everyone had run out of the room and suddenly wrapped her arms around me saying, "Miss Rachel, you play so pretty. Good job." It was during one of the loneliest months of my senior year, which she couldn't have known. That hug meant more to me than any grade or chapel talk that month. And now, when we lead worship at Grace Episcopal every six weeks, there's a crowd of choir kids that runs to me (to ME!) to pass the peace. Although, in this case, their "peace" is actually nerves and excitement. 

The music the kids sing has affected me as well. Hearing them sing lyrics like "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me" or "Go now in peace, may the love of God surround you" has helped me remember why I became a music nerd in the first place: music lends power to words and thoughts that otherwise grow stale and overused. As I look out over them fidgeting and goofing off during rehearsals, or standing still and solemn in their matching red and white vestments during performances, I can't help being proud of what I have contributed to: the nurturing of tomorrow's music nerds. My hope is that music will help these kids love stuff, to really love it, and to become, as John Green so brilliantly puts it, "enthusiastic about the miracle of the human consciousness." I hope I've shown them that music is worth al the effort we put into it, just like life is.