What I Learned on My Trip to Korea (Sep 2023)
I check the time — 4 pm — less than 2 hours before another rehearsal. Less than 12 hours before our second competition in the World Choir Games.
Our older choristers had sung with us for our first competition yesterday. But now I sit, full of nerves, thinking of their absence on stage tomorrow.
As I stare at the screen, I watch yesterday’s competition recording. We sounded good, really good. A sigh escapes my mouth, as I’m reminded of who will be singing tomorrow, not yesterday's veteran group, but my fellow sophomores and a bunch of middle school choristers. The sharp, the flat, and the quiet. The energetic and unmotivated.
God, was I nervous. The conductors would repeatedly point out improvements during rehearsal, but some people never seemed to take it to heart. I found myself feeling irritated. Why couldn’t people just do what they’re told? Why couldn’t they just listen? Stop, I told myself. They’re in middle school for God’s sake. They’re tired, they’re being overworked. They’re recovering from a long and unforgiving flight, singing for hours on end, walking in 90 degree weather, wearing the same polos. My frustration was only making the reality feel worse. Singing my part correctly wouldn’t be enough and being silent and withdrawn was definitely not going to help either.
I opened up WhatsApp, adding the sopranos to a new group chat, and within a few minutes, we were gathered around my hotel bed.
Only 8 out of the 10 singers showed up for our sudden meeting, but that wasn’t going to stop me. Despite not having vast experience leading, I found myself giving my peers advice and guiding them through our pieces.
I was met with defiance and excuses, but quickly when they saw my intent, shoulders dropped, whispering subdued, and eyes became glued to me. I listened closely, offering tips and providing the necessary instruction to fix errors and improve tones.
“It’s so hard to sing the high notes on a staccato.”
“Try keeping your mouth open before and in between each note.”
The growing enthusiasm was infectious. Little by little, I continued sharing techniques, such as when to decrescendo, how to hold long notes, and when to gracefully cut off. Sharing advice and working through obstacles felt so natural, so right. I became comfortable with offering pointed feedback to help a flat voice rise and sloppily conducting the group to run the compilation.
“You guys are tired, you’re sweaty, you’re bored. I get it. I’m tired too. But you were invited on this tour for a reason. We have a job to do. As we go downstairs for rehearsal don’t forget what we practiced. Don’t forget who you are. Don’t forget why you’re here. You’re the Young People’s Chorus of New York City. You got this,” I say as we head downstairs.
Well, I wish I had said that, corny as it sounds. We left in a rush at 6:00 pm, unaware of how much time had passed. Elizabeth, our conductor, gave me a wink after witnessing me give the sopranos a couple knowing looks during tech rehearsal. I probably looked goofy when I grinned to myself afterwards, appreciating a bit of validation.
If this evening’s sectional helped even one person sound better, it would be worth it. Whether we’d win tomorrow’s competition didn’t worry me. We were improving. I was proud of the little guys for pulling through and I was proud of myself for stepping up, for being assertive, for trusting my fellow singers, and for trusting myself. That was the real reward.
We won 5 gold medals from 5 categories in the Gangneung World Choir Games. My vocal chords are still recovering from the cheers.
