The Voice


In my high school days, ages ago,  seniors and juniors from neighboring public schools were asked to participate in a group choir for our towns’  christmas season celebration. Called ‘A thousand Voice’ we had a choice either join the choir or attend the boring physical education class. This, naturally offered us opportunity to loiter around while getting credits for the subject, which most of us picked up.

Two times a week for a number of week it was an excursion as we all marched to the towns’ grandstand and gather for the “practice”. We would be  singing those same old familiar christmas songs: Silent Night, Joy to the World, and some songs in our dialect.

We were haphazardly and hurriedly divided by music teachers as they listen to each one sing, classifying our voices into  tenors, sopranos, bass, bajo, etc. After voice identification my friends and I were separated, I am soprano but my close friends were classified into tenors.  After a few days of practice I decided to  transfer into my friends group. Nobody would notice, there were  thousand faces and voices. Besides the tenors sounds better than sopranos.

Before the practice begins, an attendance sheet is passed around, we write our name, some students  would sneak around. But I didn’t, I enjoy the singing, the once in a while laughter, entertaining and amusing experience. The practice would last early evening as we enjoy the drop in temperature and cool nights going home with friends.  It was the age when worrying, anxiety, depression were foreign words, words that we never gave attention. The only words we actively experience were joy, happiness or cheerfulness. We don’t giggle, we shriek with laughter, we don’t chuckle, we roll on the sides.

In one of the practices after the sun disappeared  on the horizon, the stars slowly coming from the blue skies, we were singing Silent Night. The heaven was listening as the scene was getting too inspiring and I thought we were doing so good when suddenly the conductor stop beating. An out of tune somewhere, I wasn’t sure.

For easy identification, she motioned only the right side group to sing, nope, the people in the upper podium was instructed to stop singing, then the group on the far right stopped singing, until she finally identified the three of us. When we were asked to sing, graciously and cordially we let our heart out, I thought we were the ideal voice for other students to follow. Then we heard a screaming, sssstopppppp.

Our innocence and confusion were probably etched in our faces, as to why were we halted. Then she said, “this is how you sing………” she sang mimicking our voices, we sounded like a cat in a vacuum cleaner, dreadful, as Simon Cowell would say. All three of us look at each other then we altogether broke into roaring laughter. There were no feelings of shame, embarrassment, timidity or unease with the other group. It was just pure joy and happiness.

To answer the prompt for today, I wish to have that voice back to narrate my post or tell my story.

<a href=””>Voice Work</a>


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