More than just chorus

As a boy with two older brothers, I had a path set out for me, tried and true. I knew which teachers were good, which ones were bad, and which ones were just strange. I knew baseball was the sport of champions; I knew which music was cool. But I have always been the abnormal child. I started taking guitar in the fifth grade, the first one in my family to begin music lessons after my oldest brother’s traumatic piano experiences in his early years. In high school I had some changes forced upon me. For one, I didn’t get the famed Granville for biology as a freshman, instead getting stuck with the new guy, Rashford. It was shocking, almost sacrilege – I knew Granville was the man to have, my brothers said so – how did this happen? Well, Rashford wasn’t so bad after all; actually he was quite good, and I ended up having Granville later for AP (also good).

And as it happens, being in Rashford’s class had a much larger impact on my life than I would have expected. In the spring of the year, when all things are fresh and beautiful, I had my eye on a certain girl from Rashford’s class. Perhaps it was fate, but this crush of mine happened to coincide with recruitment season for the ever man-lacking chorus, and this girl just happened to be in chorus. As all good chorus members do, she was actively participating in the recruitment process, and she was especially on the lookout for boys (as was everyone else). Though every high school chorus seems to have a paucity of men, that year had seen a particular drought at my school. So I was doomed to say yes when she came and asked me if I was interested in joining chorus.

I didn’t even know what I was doing. Really I had planned to say yes, go sign some sort of mailing list, and never actually join. Chorus was not on the older-brother-approved list of classes to take. It would throw everything off – I wouldn’t get into the right classes at the right time with the right teachers. High school would surely be an utter failure if I threw of the plan this early. It was only freshman year and there I was signing my life away to destitution.
But I couldn’t help myself. I went down the hall with the girl after school the next day and signed up for the following year’s Men’s Chorus, first period, with Mr. Spraggins. I thought it would be easy to get out of, but choristers are fearfully good at making sure that once you sign up, you show up. It must be that Educational Psychology class they all take.

School finished up and I went off to summer, trying not to think about how I had ruined my life so young. The summer months flew by, as usual, and come August I stepped foot into the chorus room for the first time. Men’s Chorus was quite an interesting experience. Apparently many girls had taken advantage of crushes for recruitment: the room was packed with guys. There were lanky guys with tremendous cracks in their voices, cool guys with the latest fashions, nerdy guys with awesome contradictions in style, all somewhere between boyhood and manhood. In no other room except perhaps the band and art rooms could you find such a spectrum.

As a sophomore then, I felt somewhat comfortable in the school, but chorus was a whole new deal. I didn’t know a soul, but they all seemed to know each other. Before long, though, I fit right in. There was room for anyone in chorus, especially if you were a guy. The diversity of backgrounds and ages made that class one of the most memorable of my entire high school career. I heard all sorts of crazy stories, many surely untrue, but all unique because of the lack of girls in the class. We were free to be uncouth, smelly, pompous, silly, unmanly boys in that class. There was no one to impress, just a bunch of other guys. We could be ourselves, especially when the different parts went to separate rooms to practice without any adult supervision. It was easily the most freedom I ever had during school until college.

Chorus quickly became the highlight of my day. I loved going to hang out with all the guys for the first hour of every day, and I admit, I began to enjoy the music too. It was particularly cool when we formed a sort of barber shop dodectet that sang the Temptations and other Motown favorites. Just a few years prior I had begun piano lessons, too, so chorus solidified the presence of music in my life for years to come. But more importantly, I learned to be myself in chorus, an important step for me after having spent the previous year transitioning from private school to public school.

Unfortunately, Men’s Chorus only lasted for one full year, as I recall. My junior year, recruitment did not go as well, and attrition forced the remaining guys to join the various mixed choirs. While the music was certainly of a higher quality from that point forward, I always missed Men’s Chorus. I was very comfortable in chorus by then, but I could never be as comfortable as I was with only guys around. An era had passed, never to return.

Well, six years later I have had my share of choral activities. I was active with a variety of choirs and vocal ensembles in college, and I even directed a church choir for three years (which was certainly a highlight of my college years). While I am currently not involved in any musical endeavors due to recent relocations, I know I will be involved somewhere again soon. And I will always enjoy singing, particularly in a choral setting.

It’s funny to think what my life would have been like without the influence of chorus. Perhaps piano lessons would have pricked my interest enough to keep me as involved in music as I ended up being throughout college, but perhaps not. Chorus gave me much more than musical experience. It was a life experience, a force of self-realization that brought me confidence, fun, and friendship. I believe that without this aspect, chorus would never have led me into music as it did.

As a taller boy, I have now clearly established my own life outside the footsteps of my brethren, and music has been one of the most defining differences. I never would have anticipated the ramifications of having the “wrong” biology teacher as a freshman. Sometimes the smallest of diversions from the set path can make a world of difference.