Thursday, March 17, 2005

Dreaming pt. 1

Does anyone have childhood or adolescent experiences have really affected their adult life? I'm not talking about real scarring experiences like molestation, but everyday kid stuff that somehow hangs with you forever.

Two experiences have made me think about this lately. The first of which is something that a friend of mine wrote in her blog: http://mellowtrauma.blogspot.com

In her second entry, she writes about how she was gently told in school that maybe she shouldn't be in the choir, and how it has affected her to this day. I had a similar experience. When I was little, I loved to sing and sing at the top of my lungs. I sang in the car, I sang while riding my bike, I sang to my dolls, I sang while lying in bed before falling asleep. I was so out of tune, but I didn't know it, and I didn't care.

In the fifth grade, our class was entering the Kiwanis festival, which was a local music competition/festival. Our music teacher really wanted to win this competition and to do so we had to beat St. Mary's, the school for musically inclined children. Even though this competition was compulsory for the entire class, five of us were asked to mouth the words to the songs so that we had a chance of winning. I was one of those five, and the other four were boys whose voices had already started to change. I was so upset and humiliated. My dreams of being the next Debbie Harry were dashed forever. I also felt a raging sense of injustice. They were cheating. And I went to a Catholic school. Surely Jesus would not approve. I wanted my parents to tell Kiwanis about the scam. I wanted justice. I wanted to sing about the snake with the reticulated skin like the rest of the class! When I reacted by not participating in any of the rehearsals and rolling my eyes whenever the teacher looked my way, and when my mom wrote a letter of complaint, I was pulled aside and given the "importance of teamwork and maintaining a good attitude" speech. I was told that they understood that I was hurt, but 'for the good of the team' I was asked to 'not the rock the boat', and if I could not display my displeasure in class, that would be appreciated as it was not necessary for the rest of the class to know that we were asked to mouth the words. They also asked that it would be best if we didn't take it further because if we did, the rest of the class would suffer and it would be my fault that they were denied a chance at Kiwanis glory. I was 10. The fact that they would be seriously reprimanded for conspiring to cheat at a music festival and setting a poor example for their students was of course not mentioned as a reason why I should comply, and being 10, I didn't think they had any other motive besides my schoolyard well-being. Looking back on it, I wish I insisted to my parents that we take it further. They were poor excuses for teachers so I would have been doing future grade five students a favour, and two years after that, other events would occur that would cause me to hate pretty much everyone in my class anyways. I wouldn't have lost anything in the long run. I didn't show up the day of the festival, and two of the others who were asked to mouth the words didn't show up either. We did, however, show up for cake when the class won.

Ever since that time, I have been self-conscious of my singing. I stopped singing in public - at Church, at parties, in the car with other passengers. I don’t even sing "Happy Birthday" if I can help it. I like to sing. When I'm by myself, I can sing myself hoarse in the car, especially to the soundtrack from "Swingers." As for my dreams of being the next Debbie Harry, my rendition of "Call Me" is fantastic, if I may say so myself. I think it's sad that both my friend and I have been discouraged from singing by music teachers - and mine only because she felt inferior to her St. Mary's counterpart for chrissakes. I think it's great that she was willing to get up for karaoke - especially a song like "Don't Go Breaking My Heart." I would have chosen something like "Wooly Wooly" or "Wild Thing" because you don't have to be a good singer for those songs. In fact, I think "Wooly Wooly" is better when you're a crap singer, and I'm pretty sure you can speak the lyrics to "Wild Thing." I also would have needed much more than three pints and a shot of courage to get up there.

I was at a bar a couple of nights ago, and they had karaoke. A couple people were asking if I would go up, to which I replied, uh no. I took a look at the songbook, and "Don't Go Breaking My Heart" was in there. One of my friends got up twice. He sang "Daydream Believer" and "Mack the Knife." He was pretty good, but not an outstanding singer. What he lacks in formal training, he makes up for in chutzpah. What was most impressive was his lack of inhibition when it came to singing in public. When we heard it was karaoke night and he got right up and brought a songbook over to our table and started to pick out what he wanted to do. I envy that.

One day, I would like to put on some eyeliner and a miniskirt and belt out a Blondie tune - with Mrs. DelPellaro in the audience.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Hey Ell, it's your cousin. Is that why you never call me and sing Happy Birthday over the phone??? Anyway, I actually have a positive experience. When I was around 11 or so I hated shopping because I had to shop in women's clothing stores and no one ever helped me and I always felt like they were looking at me like I didn't belong there. I had a woman's body and felt like a bull in a china shop. In fact, I avoided it at all costs and relied on the Sears catelog and hand-me-downs from you. Anyway, back in the days when Levi's were the coolest thing ever I went into Mark's Work Wearhouse to buy a pair of red tabs and the lady there was so helpful. She was just doing her job of course but she made me feel so good about myself. From then on I didn't feel awkward shopping in adult stores. Good thing for the Canadian economy I guess. Well, that's the only non-scarring one I could think of.

Anonymous said...

…so THAT’S what your problem is! All these years, we wondered…


Seriously though, that’s a pretty nasty thing to say to a kid in Grade 5. Teachers don’t realize that the things they say and do can have such a lasting impression on us.

I remember back when I was in Kindergarten at St. Mary’s (not your St Mary’s, another one). We were doing stuff in the gym - nothing big, more of an agility thing. Anyway, we had to walk on a balance beam (just a gym bench turned upside down). I couldn’t get the hang of it, and kept falling off. My teacher, Sr. Lucile, said not to worry: she’d help me out during lunch some day, when there wasn’t an audience of classmates, and I’d learn how to do it. She never kept her promise. Not that I blame her for any of my failings, or lack of interest in things athletic, but it still kinda sticks in my craw.

I also remember what my Grade 5 teacher (Mr. Munro) said to us one day during sex ed class. He told the boys that when we’re older, we might meet someone hot little number that looked great on the beach in a bikini. However, before things get too serious, we should take a long hard look at her mother, as that’s what the girl on the beach would look like in 40 years. While there’s certainly some truth to what he said, it’s not something that you need to poison a 10-yr old mind with. To this day, I’ll eye something nice and wonder what her mother looks like.

There isn’t one of us who hasn’t suffered a little from the misguided actions of one of our teachers. Case in point - the family member who was moved from the junior to the senior volleyball team, and rather than playing just sat there warming the bench. That was in high school, she’ll be 40 this summer, and she’s still pissed about it.

Forget what Mrs. DelPellaro said. If you want to sing, do it. Besides, isn’t karaoke more about the fun than the singing, and the audience too drunk to care? Hell, even I sing along to a few CDs that I have. Of course, I only do that in the privacy of my car, and it’s taken me 30 years to loosen up to the point where I’ll do it, but it’s a start.