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A few weeks ago, I attended a contest. I realized that I missed the joy of spending a day with musicians. So, 30 years later, I’m volunteering again for this event.
Some things never change. In the ’60s, the ’90s, the ’20s: Iowa High School Music Association (IHSMA) contests are consistent, dependable, nostalgic, predictable.
1. The fashion show. Every young woman is dressed in the latest trend, with bold touches of creativity. My favorite so far: the lace gaiters, complete with garters, worn with a short floppy skirt. Brand-new high heels still echo down the hall, but a nod to comfort and reality appears in the form of crocs and high tops. The little black dress wins the numbers game — in every cut and angle, straight or ruffled, tight or twirly, but spring prints are also represented to reflect our eagerness for spring weather.
2. The music. “Danny Boy.” Mozart’s “Alleluia.” Unlike the fashion, the music does not change with the decades. My job as monitor is to make sure each measure of each piece is numbered. The evidence of multiple uses of the score is apparent as the books fall apart when they are presented to me. The penciled numbers are smudged because they were probably marked in the ’90s, if not the ’60s.
3. The nerves. Enough said.
4. The accompanists. They carry the day. They carry the music. They carry the performers. They carry the record for fastest time between centers. They have the uncanny ability to be in two places at once. Judges, room managers, and door monitors have permanent assignments. Accompanists have to be in warm-up centers and performance centers and none are ever adjacent to each other and the time between 9:14 and 9:22 is zero.
5. The bus drivers. No child left behind. Instruments? Possibly. Sheet music? Definitely.
6. The directors. Like the accompanists, they have to be in two places at once. They have already filled out ballots, applications, schedules, recruited accompanists and volunteers, loaded vans and busses, persuaded and comforted and cajoled students, repaired and replaced instruments. They only roll their eyes when they make eye contact with another director.
7. The scratches. Thank you to the people who scratched, who faked laryngitis, who came down with the flu, who couldn’t find anything to wear, who had a better offer from a boyfriend or girlfriend. By scratching, you helped your assigned center to catch up because…
8. The judges. The judges balance the nerves because they welcome each performer as if they are the best part of the day. Most of all, they give value to all the hours, all the repetition, all the frustration, all the sore lips and fingers. And even though the judges are the reason we are behind schedule, it is because of their thorough engagement with the student and their performance. Almost every student exits their performance with knowledge of what they did well and what they could do well the next time.
9. The families. We would have no musicians if we had no one giving permission to sign up for band or chorus. We would have fewer musicians if parents weren’t willing to fork out money for instruments (and instrument repair) and lessons. Transportation, clean uniforms, black shoes, practice (aka nagging), and the reward: sitting through concerts. My personal favorite concert is the all-school, all-grade concert. The fifth grade starts the concert, and it is amazing. Amazing that we recognize the tune. Amazing that we don’t leave after the first number. Amazing that we think there is hope. But we stay seated and listen to each band in succession; by the time we hear the high school band or orchestra or choir, the deal is sealed: our ears stop ringing and our hearts swell with pride. And we wish for an encore.
That is the story of a music contest. I sang “Danny Boy” in the ’60s. I wore a pretty spring dress to contest in the sixties. I missed the first bus, but caught the second. I was thankful when Linda W. called in sick, so we could scratch our trio. I couldn’t sing second soprano to save my life. I sat through the same contests in the ’90s, with my own children. Why am I now volunteering in this century?
My son is a band director. My grandson plays an instrument. A few weeks ago, I attended their contest. I realized that I missed the joy of spending a day with musicians. So, 30 years later, I’m volunteering again for this event that is sanctioned by the IHSMA, organized by the directors, dreaded by students, reinforced by accompanists, managed by volunteers and enjoyed by families.
Horns up!
Dianne Prichard of DeWitt raised three musicians and has rediscovered the joy of spring music contests.
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