Reflection On Violin

1. Albert Einstein said, “Learning is not a product of schooling but the lifelong attempt to acquire it.”

Like almost every other 3rd grader in my elementary school, when the enrichment program came to talk about joining the orchestra and band, I was fascinated. I admired the kids, not much older than me, who could play their instruments flawlessly and effortlessly. Immediately I knew that orchestra was for me, and I rushed home with a paper in hand begging my mom to let me take lessons at my school. Originally, I wanted to play the cello and pleaded with my mom to let me play one; I loved the deep, rich sounds of the strings. Instead, my mom convinced me to play the violin, a less expensive instrument and much easier to carry around than a cello.

Cortney. The first few lessons I attended I was advised not to even touch the bow. Before wielding the bow, it was imperative that I learned the basics of the strings, the notes they produce, and the parts of the violin. This nonetheless was just as exciting to me as playing Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture. I began my violin studies through (and continue to practice today) the Suzuki Method, a school of teaching based predominately around training the student to recognize their own mistakes, and to correct them accordingly. Due to this, students learning through Suzuki tend to progress at a substantially slow rate to begin with, until suddenly, something ignites, and the student begins to progress much more rapidly than before. The Suzuki Method admittedly discouraged me at times. Maybe it was because I was only allowed to learn pieces by listening to recordings, and not reading music, or perhaps I found playing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star literally hundreds of times a little too repetitive. Yet I persisted. Consequently, the Suzuki Method and Mrs. Cortney have molded me into a much more refined violinist than I would have ever become through any other method, as well as taught me the values of discipline and

During senior year of high school, I decided to learn the violin. I have always loved the timbre of the instrument and I longed to develop a talent that I could call my own. However, my progress was slow. My arms and fingers always tensed up when I began playing a piece. Yet, my violin instructor never let me give up. Every time I put my violin down he would urge me to continue. “Don’t hesitate,” he would tell me. “Be confident in what you play even if you make a mistake.”

I nervously explained to the counselor, “I’m having some trouble finding a class that is a good fit.” She suggested that I try something out of my comfort zone, to “try new things” -whatever that means-. Sitting up confidently in her chair, she then proceeded to pull up open classes on her computer. After explaining what each one entailed for a good half hour, I wasn’t very impressed by the options. Clearly frustrated and defeated she suggested, “Choir?” The very last one on her list was the class that made me who I am today.

I don’t remember if it was my choice or my parents, but in 5th grade when we were given the choice to be in band, I was very anxious to start. We got to meet with Mrs. Jones and try a few different instruments before making a decision. My top three choices were percussion, trombone, and clarinet (only because my sister had played it). I tried the clarinet first and thought it was alright, but not my favorite. I tried the trombone next, and while it was difficult, I really wanted to keep trying. I also tried percussion- she just had me keep a beat on my leg- and I thought percussion may be difficult for me, but I still wanted to do it. In the end, Mrs. Jones decided I would be best fit for the clarinet, mostly because I could use my sisters and not have to buy a new instrument. I was happy with the choice, mostly because I was excited to be playing anything!

This quote has always been inspiring in my life. I believe learning is not limited to just the classroom but takes places through out our life. Right education not only enhances personal development and social inclusion, but also increases competitiveness.

I can remember the moment when I decided that I would become a musician. I was at a summer music program that I didn’t really want to be at, sitting in a room that was filled with the scent of insulation. I was sitting on one of the many blue cushioned chairs in the room/. The instructors went around the hall, asking other children how old they were and what instrument they played. Everyone seemed to know each other already, chewing at the bit to be let on the stage to grab their preferred instrument and play the little music that they already knew with their friends. I felt left out, as I didn’t have an instrument that I could call my own. When the instructor finally got to me, he asked my age, name, and what I played, just like he had to

Freshman Ella. It’s a scary thought, but for this story we have to go back to March of my freshman year at an event called Chamber Festival, which is basically when you play in small groups instead of large orchestras. In our school orchestra I was second chair viola which, me only being a freshman, was a very big deal. At least it was for me. Many of my other friends in orchestra already had their own instruments, and I felt like it was time to get one of my own. So for months I begged my parents. I insisted that I wouldn’t give up playing in a year or two, that I really would stick with it long enough for the investment to make sense. Finally, in the beginning of 2015, they agreed to get me a viola. Now was the hard part, agreeing

I was in music class when my teacher, Mrs. Umberson, had kept on telling me to join the Phoenix boys choir. I'd always come home with packets about how to join and audition packets, however my parents didn't really know what to say. I listened to music but didn't really care about it, never really shown interest in music, and I didn't have a very good voice. So when I was coming home with Phoenix Boys Choir flyers my parents didn't know why I wanted to do this… But they said sure.

In the second grade, I told my mom I wanted to play guitar. Watching School of Rock may or may not have affected that decision. A couple weeks later, my mom brought home… a violin – Guitar Center had run out of guitars, she claimed. And though it wasn’t exactly what I had asked for, I ended up liking the violin, and came to appreciate classical music. But my other musical tastes stuck with me, and quickly expanded – my iPod soon contained rock, jazz, alternative, heavy metal, hip-hop, rap, country, and everything in between. As I listened to various musical styles, I gradually picked up more instruments – electric guitar, bass, classical guitar, and so forth.

The next year brought me to middle school. I joined band again, surprising the other students with my (poorly performed) renditions of a few easy five-note songs. Unfortunately, not half way into the year, my director took a break from teaching, leaving us with a long-term sub who had no idea how to read music, much less teach it. The full extent of her interaction with us was asking to hear a couple one-liners.

When the teacher had to step out of the class Sarah was right there to step in. She was always volunteering to accompany the choir and any ensemble who needed a pianist. She was always looking for opportunities to help the musical department. This continued into her high school career, when she moved to Colorado and attended Boulder High School. Although she had to move, she quickly built up the same reputation. Some of her positions were “Student Conductor” , “Accompanist”, and “President”. At first the transition was very difficult for Sarah. She was not thinking about her future, and did not care about many things or people at that time. The first two years of her high school career were very tough. She was having issues with her family and trying to find the right people to be friends with. Sarah was not focused on school, and only had a 3.2 her freshman year. She did not like going to her classes because she was not very happy with her own life,let alone focused on school. Regardless of how she was feeling there was always a place that helped her feel better. Whenever she entered the music room, her mood would lighten up. Her orchestra and choir class would put a smile on her face, even if it was just for the fifty minutes. Whenever she was singing or playing viola all of the negative emotions that were trapped in her head would fade away, and she felt happy and content during the classes. Sarah loved the music teachers and the classroom environment; she felt at home during class, which is just what she

Near the end of 4th grade, I got to choose the instrument I would play in middle school. There was a big event in the middle school for students to select their instruments for either orchestra or band. The first instrument I test out were drums. In order to participate in the percussion section, you had to play to the beat on a drum head. I tried it out and I as okay at it. Then I went to make sound out of the trombone by buzzing. Lastly, I tried to play the saxophone but I couldn’t do it. At the end of the night, they announced who would join the percussion section and I was not chosen. Instead, I chose the next best instrument the trombone.

The Red Violin, a movie written by Don McKellar and François Girard, and directed by François Girard, was released on September 10, 1998. It follows a special, and, in a sense, cursed, fictional violin through its long and tragic life, culminating a modern era auction where it is being sold. Everything begins with the violin makers, Nicolò Bussotti, and his pregnant wife, Anna Rudolfi. While Bussotti worked in his shop, Rudolfi met with one of their servants, Cesca, and asked her to tell her unborn child’s future. Cesca tells her that she cannot, siting that the humors are all balanced until someone is born, and offers to tell Rudolfi hers instead. There is some hesitation on Rudolfi’s part before she reluctantly agrees and Cesca lays out her tarot cards. Rudolfi selects five and Cesca began telling her fortune, which is how the real story begins.