Have you ever had a worthwhile experience that helped pave the path to where you are today? Follow me back to when I was a young girl. I want to share with you about a teacher who left an impression on me. 

The late warm summer sun had started to let go of its heat as the elongated day changed to a beautiful evening. Dinner is finished and the kitchen is cleaned and ready for the next family gathering. Mom and Dad sit on their lawn chairs perched up on their red stained deck overlooking the yard and the pasture. The lawn chairs are weathered and worn with a few straps missing in the seat. Sitting down you pray that the four other vinyl straps in tact will not bust out from under you and leave you in a folded up mess on the hardwood deck. The other lawn chair seems to keep timing with the birds chirping in the distance as it wobbles from side to side.  

My sister and I get the attention of our parents and insist they watch us. We perform cartwheels, somersaults and random jumps up and down on the green grass. We are tonight’s entertainment. My sister runs inside and finds an old gray and black boxy stereo with the latest 80’s hits snuggled inside the cassette player. She plugs it inside our parents bedroom outlet. She pushes the big glass sliding doors open and quickly thrusts down the square ‘play’ button. She places the stereo on the deck and she runs down the stairs to move to the rhythm. The 80’s beat blares across our front yard. We pretend to be in love and then our hearts are broken as we run through the cool grass with our bare feet. We shimmy our shoulders and dance our hearts out to the sound of the music. We finally collapse on the cool earth and roll around until the stars start to peak out from behind the willow trees. We soak in the coolness on our backs as we stare up into the sky knowing that summer is coming to an end. 

  Subsequently piano lessons also accompany the start of school. We  make the long 45 minute drive to piano lessons. Once we arrive I wait patiently for my turn to play the piano. My two sisters and I occupy my piano teacher’s time for three hours. I love piano lessons. This is my first year taking lessons. I don’t mind waiting on the couch listening to my sisters clunk out their notes. It is quiet and I sit and think about serious things: what color of crayon to use in my theory book, what we are having for dinner tonight, and why my sister paired that button up shirt with those ugly shorts. My tummy growls loudly and my piano teacher stops her instructions. She turns around and looks at me with her glasses on the tip of her nose and laughs her big breathy laugh. 

Returning home from piano lessons we head North. My mom projects from the driver’s seat of the van, “Girls, next week you are all going to be starting a musical singing group.” Our eyes grow big as we look at each other with anticipation. In my mind I am suddenly on stage in front of a large audience. I walk to the front of the stage with a pink feather boa wrapped around my neck. The lights are warm and bright on my face. The rouge on my cheeks along with my bright red lipstick can be seen from the cheap seats. The mic sits in the center of the platform waiting for me to perform my solo number. I slowly walk to the front and I freeze as I stare out at the vastness. I choke. I break from my daydream when my sister suddenly bumps my arm and asks, “Did you hear what mom said?” “Ahhh-no,” I replied.  She said, “You need to put your laundry away when we get home.”  

The following week we entered the house that our singing lessons were going to be held in. I had never been in this house before. We only had a few houses sprinkled throughout our community and it was rare that you didn’t know what the inside of a house looked like. The front door is brown which matches the exterior of the house. There is a tall narrow window on the left of her front door. It looks like a giant dull yellow sucker that has been melted down and stretched out. When the sun hits the front door the sidelight lets in a dingy yellow color that sits on the choir director’s living room floor. The ray of sun coming through her front windows catches the dust particles as they float around the room. The shaggy carpet is a combination between avocado green and beige. I look around the room and it feels lived in, comfortable and homey. The light brown piano is placed up against the opposite wall of the front door. The piano blends into the warm hues of the brown paneling. 

The choir director walks out from another room as she is settling her three little blonde headed children down. She greets each of us with a warm welcoming smile, “Please take off your shoes and line up in front of the window.” I bend over to remove my shoes and I am knocked over on my side as bigger kids come hurling through the door behind me. I look around me with my face red from embarrassment and I realize I am one of the younger kids in the choir. I look for my older sister for a sense of place and I insecurely walk to my spot. A ghastly smell drifts through the air. I look around to see what the smell would be coming from. I quickly glance over my shoulder and I spot the pile of empty smelly shoes scattered behind me. I don’t know how to feel about this experience yet.

The teacher has a mushroom haircut with golden blonde hair. Her haircut is strangely similar to mine. She looks at us kindly with a twinkle in her eye. She gives clear instructions and helps each of us find our place. She kicks off the first lesson with simple and familiar scales. We sing from middle C ascending to high C. We belt out all of the notes in between. The older boys sing out as she directs them down a descending scale. She plays beautiful musical notes on the piano as she checks for individual pitches. She moves her left arm up and down to direct us to the target note. She helps us with timing as she gracefully dances her available fingers around the keys of the piano. She is thrilled as she turns around on the bench to look at each of us. She encourages us and warms our hearts with praise. We are grinning from ear to ear after lessons are over. We cannot not wait until next week’s lesson.

The following week we ran for the brown door of our teacher’s home. She is busy in the kitchen making snacks for her children so she can give us her full attention. She quickly sits at the piano as we are arranging ourselves in her living room. She introduces us to recognizable songs. She plays a little introduction on the piano and the majority of us nod our heads at the familiarity of the song. She tickles the ivories for another ten minutes as we tap our toes to her rhythm. Week after week we mastered our new parts, we became united through song, and we learned melodic rhythms. For a small moment in a little sandy town in Idaho the world was filled with pure songful joy.    

The next week the teacher unpacks boxes with shirts for each of us. The hem around the neckline and sleeves are blue. The words imprinted on the center of the shirt are also blue. The word ‘HARMONY’ boldly stands out against the white material. Harmony is our choir’s name. I am overjoyed about my new T-shirt even though I don’t understand what the word ‘harmony’ means. We all have matching shirts and we are ready to show the world our love for music.

We sing at community events, school events, and anywhere there is a stage and people ready to listen we are singing our hearts out. I am young but I am starting to feel a passion for singing and hearing different parts. I always look forward to every lesson because my teacher makes me feel like I can reach any note, sing any part, and possibly even harmonize with the cows in the pasture. The time she is devoting to our group is rewarding. 

At last, the Harmony group only lasted a few years. Our teacher moved away and we missed the special magic she brought into our small town. She was passionate about singing and she was heartfelt about us. She took a group of farm and ranch kids and gave us the gift of music. She instilled in us the love for music, commitment, effort, success, and the ability to work well with others. The Harmony singing group was a positive experience in my life. It was a place that I felt inspired, a place that I could thrive musically, and a place that I excelled at a young age. These positive moments in my life gave me the confidence to excel in other musical areas.  

Oftentimes when we have past positive experiences that lead us to future successes. These positive moments in my life led me to further my education in music in a non-traditional way. My passion for music soothed my aching heart and helped me control my fears. I played and sang to my unborn babies. Down my pathway in my life music has dotted the way because of loving teachers who were optimistic and hopeful in helping a young girl determine her own future. 

Fast forwarding to my future: Because of these little bright spots in my past I have had the opportunity to expand my musical knowledge. Adding more experiences like learning the organ and the ukulele has brought me a sense of fulfillment in my life. My heart beats a few extra beats when I am able to sing in a capable choir. I believe that we all have unlimited potential. 

Tools to help develop our own personal pathway 

1. Write down positive past experiences and explore where they can take you. 
2. Look for teachers/people who can lead you and inspire you. 
3. Take classes and learn from others to help you determine what you are passionate about.   

I’m standing on the right next to my sister.