My last high school choir concert consisted of mainly five things: tears (before, during, and after the concert), running away from the carnation that had to be pinned on all the seniors, realizing that Troy wasn't kidding in High School Musical 3 when he said time won't slow down, avoiding all my crying friends right after I finished my own tantrum, and convincing myself that I would never feel this way in a choral group again.
For many people, choir in high school was extremely important. It was more than just an "easy A" or a mandatory class to fulfill some arts requirement.
The classroom was the place where students went to sleep, unwind, do homework that should have been done weeks ago, eat lunch because the cafeteria meant socializing (*cringes*), and it was the place that was home for most. All the devoted choir kids spent more time in this room than in whatever class they were supposed to be in (I should have probably attended French class more often, but I have no regrets).
The choral director was a best friend, mother, and better therapist than anyone in the world. In my own experience, I fell offstage and cracked a bunch of my teeth, and my director was the one telling me I still looked great. A choral director is there to watch you grow as a musician, student, and human being. The amount of support and unconditional love that radiates from mine will always have a place in my heart.
The music was a true escape; students craved the feeling of being completely immersed in a choral piece followed the rush that left them with goosebumps. On my worst days, the music was something to look forward to; it was a extended hand from a dear friend.
The choir was a family. No matter what was going on outside the classroom (example: she doesn't like her because she did that thing five years ago/ those two are mortal enemies that will continue to be rivals ten years from now/ this person just hates everything/ etc.), everyone was a team when it came to the music. Leaving all of that behind seemed like the biggest challenge at the time, but I am so grateful for all that I have learned.
When I think about my four years of choir as a whole, a few things stood out. The one that makes me laugh the most is that as a freshman, I had a solo in the very first song the freshman choir performed. Sweaty hands, shaky breath, and rushing thoughts consumed me, but it is almost like everything stopped once I heard the first note escape my lips. Four years later, as a senior, my solo was the one in the last piece that the upperclassmen choir performed. As I stepped away from the microphone for the last time in my high school career, tears literally streamed down my face, and it was quite unattractive. It was over. Something that I thought would last forever had ended.
That is why I think that it is so important to cherish every single moment (I'm talking to you, high school seniors). Choir had its moments that could drive anyone crazy. Whether it was a girl who thought she was a Soprano I but was actually an Alto II who stood right behind you, or when a harmony went completely wrong and everyone cringed, or feeling disconnected from the music, these things happen in every choir. At one point, a lot of people might have felt that they were "too good" for the group or that they couldn't wait to go on to another choir. Yeah, that happens, too. But at the end of the day, it all comes down to how you feel. In those crazy four years, I felt a happiness that I could not get from anything else. I confess, I miss high school choir.
