Chorus Concert I Reflection Paper

In the moment, my abilities never faltered. I kind of like that about myself. I may worry, but when it comes down to it, I’m pretty persevering. Despite this, I harbored mixed feelings about singing again.

Upon arrival we immediately started practicing. I sat in the back row because of my height and to help any lost tenors (I tended to be in the correct place at the correct time.) The guest director Dr. Pool gave us some of his interpretations of the music and reviewed the parts with each section, so everyone knew when and where to come in and especially what to sing. There were a few phrases that were incomprehensible because weird timing or numerous accidentals, but all the confusion was cleared up in a matter of minutes. Dr. Pool's enthusiasm for each piece kept the attention of the choir during the long, tiresome

A good word to describe the first sound that came out of my French horn could be called a screech. When I first looked at the instrument I originally thought the bell faced upward in the air. You would never believe that only two years later I was able to sight-read pieces of music and preform them in a matter of an hour during a workshop at Disney world. The quick improvement that I made in my music ability showed my natural tenacity and persistence.

The year progressed, and Maria and I were enjoying choir less and less. Not only did we enjoy it much less, but we also did not have sufficient time for homework or eating lunch.

I entered through the double-doors. I signed-in while school security officers’ wand-down students. Then I located the main office. Once inside, I was handed my assignment papers titled: Chorus Concert I (Period 6).

First, on many occasions, Saint Anthony’s Catholic School would be without its only music teacher who would have to take leave several times a year. Because her daughters both attended Saint Anthony Catholic School, LaBeau was often asked to substitute, heading the music department the majority of the time. Eventually, LaBeau permanently became the music teacher for Saint Anthony Catholic School, and in her curriculum, she teaches ecclesiastical songs to the children in preparation for their weekly school mass and also directs the school’s choir. One of her former Saint Anthony Catholic School choir members remarks, “Through Mrs. LaBeau, I was able to strengthen my faith by learning new songs each week. Choir at Saint Anthony’s made me feel like a part of something, and when we sang, we sang together. There’s something about singing songs about our faith during mass in unison that is so powerful. But the choir would be all over the place, if it wasn’t for Mrs. LaBeau” (Calara). In the meantime, Father Adrian, one of the previous priests of the parish, was aware of LaBeau’s active Ronnie’s School of Music, and asked her to consider leading Saint Anthony Catholic Church’s choir, which was in desperate need of a director. Because of her experience and passion for choir, LaBeau excitedly accepted. LaBeau then built the choir, standing in front of the masses of people during

“Welcome, welcome, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, to our 17th annual Belmont High Senior Concert!” Our chorus teacher cried.

(Students in the hallway after school. Lockers are slamming. Students are stressed. Papers are flying out of messy

In the beginning of class, Mr. Watson started the class by passing out a monthly newsletter which I thought was a great idea. Afterwards, He begun with class working on the concert pieces. A lot of the time, Mr.Watson would play the trumpet with his only trumpet player. He would also work on the percussion part whenever they needed some work. His class was very well mattered the whole time. This middle school class was not disruptive throughout the class, and they got through a lot of music in their forty-five minutes. This is how the class

"Well, we can't go giving you points your Mum earned. What a shame I can't mark you on the shoes because I certainly can't give you anything for the singing - I couldn't call you a singer."

But once I joined, the class went too slow of a place for me, and I quit. Then in fifth grade, I joined band because I loved music, but that wasn’t such a good idea because that class went at a slow place again. In sixth grade I joined orchestra again, and here I am, writing this essay for orchestra in seventh grade.

All of the walls are plastered with student work of hand-cut construction paper snowflakes and stockings. In the mornings, excited students swarm the hallway as they look for their classroom and their teacher. Echoes of “good mornings” bounce around the hallway from student to teacher. But farther down the hallway, the older students are not as excited for the day while the bare walls match their expressionless faces. About halfway down this hallway is a wide staircase down leading to the fourth grade classrooms. It is rather quiet in this hallway because there is a distinct lack of

After a long day of yearbook signings and other “farewell activities,” the bell rang, marking the end of my last day of middle school. I said goodbye to my friends and teachers and stuffed the last of my books and supplies into my already full backpack. As I walked down the main hall for the final time, I laughed at how long the hall had once seemed and how short it felt now. With the anticipation of summer building in me, I walked faster and faster, almost running toward freedom, but when I reached the door marked “Chorus- Mrs. Vermillion,” I couldn’t resist the urge to stop in one last time. The chorus room was always a happy place for me, where the troubles of the school day seemed just a little bit less important. I was fond of every detail, from the loyal old piano to Mrs. Vermillion’s

Now a small group, all girls, has gathered around you, and somehow, you all gather the collective courage to go in and ask. You’re informed that it is indeed Intro to Communications and make a mental note to arrive at least 15 minutes early for the rest of the semester. Your pick one of the only remaining seats, on the very first row, and finally, finally sit down.

     Tony finished getting ready, and then we left for the high school. The parking lot was filled with all the other seniors’ cars. Tony and I walked into the library ten minutes late like usual, and the principal had already started giving instructions. I found my place in line and then was all ears. I couldn’t help but look around at all the others. Smiles were plastered on their faces as if they had heard a hilarious joke. Once the principal concluded his speech, the whole senior class paraded down the hallway to the commons in two uniform lines stopping just outside the gymnasium doors. We could hear the band warming up and playing songs. All the people that were standing around me were bubbling