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388 Days


Three hundred and eighty-eight days. That is how long I went without hearing my choirs sing fully together. There was the shutdown, where we weren't together at all, and a period of remote choir that lasted a couple of months this winter, but most of the year we've been hybrid, with only parts of the choir singing together at once. There were no rhyme or reason to these cohorts...here's a cohort of only 6 kids, here's a cohort of only 3. The tenors? We'll split them randomly, right down the middle so these boys won't know what it's like to sing with their whole section. We've managed, we've worked hard to just tread water and not lose any more ground than we have to (how about that for a mixed metaphor), but it hasn't been easy and hasn't always felt a lot like choir. 

Until today. On Day 389,  all of our students were back in the building at once, 5 days a week. No more hybrid. No more cohorts. There's a lot of strong feelings about whether this was the right move, whether it's safe for our students to have so many of them together at once. We shall see how it goes in the weeks to come, but today was a good day. 

7:45am 
I arrive at school far earlier than I normally do because I don't want to get stuck in the parking lot traffic and I want to avoid the newly crowded hallways. I sit in my office, drinking my coffee and finalizing my seating charts. I am so nervous. It feels like the first day of school, even though I just saw all of these kids a few days ago. But I am anxious and excited, with no idea how this is truly going to go. 

8:15am
The students in my first class sporadically file in. Admin plays George Harrison's "Here Comes the Sun" over the loudspeaker. A little on the nose, I think to myself, but I allow myself to be swept up in that sentiment just the same. It has indeed been a long, cold lonely winter. And a long, cold Fall, Summer, and Spring before that. My fully vaccinated self is starting to feel the sunlight, I must confess. 

9:05am
My first class, my little beginning Tenor-Bass choir, finishes up. I'm really pleased. With only 9 guys total, I wasn't expecting much of a difference, but one of these cohorts has been plugging away with just 3 people in it for the entire year. It may just be my pandemic-skewed perception but this choir of only 9 sounds like 20.  I am impressed with their sound and with their confidence. So far so good. 

10:00am
I finish up with Trebs, my select treble group. I am over the moon. I have missed this. So much. I didn't fully understand just how deeply I missed this until I hear them sing this morning. Going into today I had tried to lower my expectations -just because they are all together doesn't mean there is going to be some big cloud-parting moment where the heavens open and you are brought to tears, Phil. Be realistic. But damn. They sound like they've been singing together all year, and I have a feeling deep in my soul that I'd felt only the ghost of for over year. I'll be damned. They part the clouds and I feel some tears. 

10:30am
I walk out of my office and listen to Cecilians sing their first piece all together for the first time this year. I am blown away by the beauty. It's not even a choir that I direct and I'm still blown away. It continues to be a good day. 

12:25pm 
I end class with my beginning treble group. We are able to actually sing in parts today, and I hear both parts, and I feel a shift in their confidence. I ask them if it feels different singing with more people and many of them respond with an enthusiastic (and relieved) "YES!" I'm sincerely excited about where they are headed these next couple of months. 

1:50pm 
I teach Music Theory. Having both cohorts together doesn't really change much for them, but I am so excited by the events of today that I feel that I am different as I teach them. I am energized, rejuvenated, renewed. I feel like there's a purpose to what I'm doing again, like what I'm doing matters. I'm actually a choir director again. I get to care and be picky and do more than just "try to get through" and keep my kids from quitting. 

3:30pm
Last class of the day, Concert Choir my intermediate mixed group. This is where I get the full reminder that we're still in a pandemic. Concert Choir is so big that with both cohorts combined they cannot fit in the choir room and stay safely distanced. This means that this class has to move to the auditorium for the rest of the year. It's a little tough: they're in the auditorium seats right now (we can't be on the stage yet), and so it's hard to hear and project and their sound just goes UP. 

I feel bad for them that they don't get a Clouds Parting moment, and a little frustrated by circumstances. If this group could be in the choir room they'd be peeling the paint off the walls with their sound, but having to be in the auditorium dulls the impact of having all 45 of them together. Nonetheless, they are singing really well. My tenors and basses are already opening up their sound so much more because they have their full sections together, and I think once they get used to the new space this group is really going to take off. 

388 days. 388 and days we are still in a pandemic. Still wearing masks, still unsure of when "post-COVID" is truly going to arrive, let alone what it's going to look like. My students are hurting, traumatized, uncertain, and so am I. We've all been through a lot since March 12, 2020, and I know that it isn't over yet and that not every choir teacher or singer is as fortunate as we are right now. There's a lot of work left to do. 

But today we made music. All together. Today was a good day. 






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