Getting Out of Their Way

I learned an important lesson last week. Well, it may be overstating the case to say I learned it, because that would imply that I will consistently behave differently. Which may not be the case. But I got my first installment of an important lesson yesterday; I'm sure the kids will continue to teach me this one for years to come.

Madeline had her heart set on singing in the Talent Show at school. She wanted to do this last year, too, and it somehow did not come to pass. So this year there was very little notice for "auditions" (which were designed, I think, not to screen for talent but to screen out objectionable material), and she insisted she needed to try out. She had her heart set on the material, too-- she wanted to sing the "Star-Spangled Banner."

She was unmoved by my frequent observation that it's one of the hardest songs out there, that professionals sometimes have trouble with it... She was certain that this is the song she should sing.

So she "tried out," and was accepted. The show was on the last day of school, at 2:00. I promised to be there, and promptly began fretting that she was going to utterly humiliate herself.

Because, you see, not only had she chosen the hardest song possible, she is not... a talented singer. I'm afraid she inherited my musical ability, passed down from her Granny. Which is to say, NONE.

I had apocalyptic visions of hisses and boos, rotten tomatoes thrown, or (worse) raucous laughter from her schoolmates. I feared it would be so awful that she would demand afterwards that we move to another state, take new names, start over...

I arrived in the "Lower School Cafeteria" right at 2:00, just as Mr. Apodaca, the music teacher, took the stage to introduce the show. I delivered Madeline's "costume" (which she'd left at home that morning) to a teacher, who took it to her in the "backstage" area and took a seat against the rear wall of the room, which is actually a warehouse space in an office complex (read: the acoustics are terrible).

The first kid played the piano. She wasn't bad. Another kid sang. She wasn't good. Eventually a couple of kids took the stage and sang so quietly (there were no microphones) that I couldn't even tell what song they were singing, strain though I might. I felt a little better.

Then Madeline was up. I resisted the urge to watch through my fingers (because she might see me), and I waited attentively. She clasped her hands in front of her, opera-singer style, and began to sing.

She BLEW THE RAFTERS off the place. She did not hit every note (I'd hate to even venture a guess at the percentage), but she projected, she was incredibly confident, sang every word, and got a STANDING OVATION. I thought I was the only one standing, but later Tara, who also teaches at the school, told me that several teachers also stood to applaud.

She ROCKED THE HOUSE. She was amazing. All my fears were unfounded, and I realized (in a crashing moment) that my fears are mine, and I don't need to share them with (or impose them on) her. Heaven knows, Madeline's got plenty of fears of her own (usually including stage fright), but she was NOT afraid to sing a difficult song in front of the entire school, and I'm so grateful.So that was Lesson #1 in Get Out of Your Kids' Way. Awaiting next lesson.