Elle Potter

mildly hilarious, exceptionally fun, and usually barefoot.

The Voice of Reason

I have always been a performer.  Maybe it’s because I’m a Leo.  Maybe it’s because I’m the oldest child.  Maybe it’s because I was always granted a stage to stand on.  Ever since my first performance at the age of five (singing Blowin’ in the Wind at church, accompanied on piano by my dad), I’ve been driven to pursue a life of center-stage.

All through high school, it seemed obvious to me that I would be studying music in college.  I only applied to one school because I knew without a doubt that I would be studying to become a high school music teacher.  The auditions went well – hell, I even auditioned for the Musical Theatre program just for fun.  The day I got a letter from the music department of the university, I couldn’t open it fast enough.  I sat in my Blazer in the driveway, shaking as I unfolded the letter from the envelope.

I don’t remember exactly what it said word for word, I just remember hearing the beat of my heart breaking through my fingertips.  Words like “Thank you, but” and “Unfortunately” all sounded like staccato, minor chords shooting bullets into my seemingly fool-proof dreams.  I got out of my car and sat on the sidewalk in front of my house, gasping for both my breath and for something to believe in.

Formal music training was never something I was able to have growing up, and in the end it was what I was lacking.  I knew how to sing, but classical, technical voice training was something I had never been introduced to.  First semester of my freshman year, I had a one-on-one audition to be in the choir.  Determination still rang in my ears, and I thought showing commitment to the desire to continue would eventually get me in within a semester or two.

I explained to the professor my love of music and my passionate longing to be in the music program.  I did a little sight-reading and a little call-and-response with him, and he ran his palm over his face.

“I’m going to go ahead and put you into the Women’s Choir.  I know you’re interested in the music program…” He scribbled a note onto the audition form in front of him.  ”So… well, IF you end up making it into that…”

My jaw dropped.  I know it must have.  All my life I had been surrounded by the support of my community, and his “IF” was completely off key.  I grew disenchanted.  I just didn’t care anymore.  I took choir for that first year – and failed second semester.  But not because I sucked; because I had too many absences.

I finished college and never did much else with music other than the occasional karaoke encounter.  However, this fall I was blessed with the opportunity to take voice lessons on trade at my friend Gary’s The Lesson Studio in Boulder.  I had never been able to afford it before and was thrilled at the opportunity.

The first class I took was spent making a LOT of noises.  I alternated between sounding like a whimpering dog and a fire siren, and my teacher Alaina was convinced I was a mezzo-soprano.  I laughed.

The noises didn’t sound like music and I felt myself fighting the urge to defend myself.  I felt like I should stop her and say, “You know, I am actually good at this whole ’singing’ thing…”  But I decided there was no point in defending myself until I understood what was going on.  No self-judgement, right?

I drove home afterwards making the little noises to myself in my car.  This surely can’t be music, I kept thinking.  And I feared that my fantastic teacher didn’t think I could sing.  That maybe I really was a musical lost cause, just like my choir professor had made me feel.

In high school, I was an Irish Dancer.  And a pretty danged good one, too.  I could move my feet quickly and pick up on new footwork in a snap.  Then I joined the poms dance team.  And suddenly I was supposed to move my arms WITH my legs, shake my hips a little bit, and SMILE?!  All was lost on me.

Luckily, each time I met with Alaina for the next installation of voice lessons, things got more and more clear.  The noisy exercises really were benefitting my already developed sense of tone and beat by giving me a different perspective of resonating chambers, breath control, and challenging my perception of what range I could sing in.

Alaina told me at one point that she loved the tone I had in those painstakingly high notes I was jokingly hitting during our warm-up.  ”You have such a bright tone there, it’s just a matter of more training.”  I stared at the piano, where she was hitting a high F and trying to convince me how easily it comes through me, wondering how true her words were.

Having someone reflect back the strengths they see in you is a powerful and confusing experience.  Have you ever had someone tell you they look up to you and you try to diminish your own self-worth by listing off all the reasons why they shouldn’t view you as a role model?  Or had someone tell you how beautiful a piece of artwork is that you created and you point out all the reasons why you think it sucks?  We consistently alternate between feeling a need to defend ourselves when we think someone is placing judgement and shying away from due praise because we don’t think we’re worthy.  We’re easily convinced that we’re not good enough, but not so easily convinced we’re appreciated.

I had my first recital in eight years this last weekend.  My mom, dad, and sister all came to hear me sing, just like they did so often in high school.  Ultimately, I enjoyed the experience because I wanted to see what life would have been like with voice training.  But I’ve opened up a can of worms with this – because now I can’t walk away from this and blame someone else’s lack of interest.  My teacher openly wants me to succeed.  All the people in my life who never knew I loved singing now know that I can and they simply won’t take my excuses.

Do you believe in yourself?  Would you, if you were given the opportunity, given the support and the love to follow on a path that you never thought you could walk down?  Can you really let your talent go unnoticed?

This holiday season, I am endlessly grateful for the undying love and support I have had in my life.  If I had listened to the words of encouragement rather than the voices of doubt (especially my own), who knows what the difference would be.  And that’s not that I regret a THING – I wouldn’t want to be anywhere other than exactly where I am right NOW.  But now there is a new lesson that has been learned.  And I don’t want to fail choir this time.

Posted in get creative by Elle on December 23rd, 2009 at 4:26 pm.

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