“Mommy, hear that? That’s a violin!” “Daddy, Daddy! Do you see that? That’s a violin!”
That was all I said for six months. Every day for six months my parents put up with hearing about every violin I saw or heard on each and every street corner, television show, and radio station. It took six months for my parents to finally break and give in to the little four-year-old me. I still remember the day well.
One July day in small town New Hampshire, my parents brought my brother and me to the town green. There were all sorts of arts and crafts set up for us. However, my parents didn’t take us to any of those centers. No, they walked my brother and me right over to a little stage area. Just as we got there, a violin teacher and her entire studio walked on stage. I was so excited! Real people playing real violins not 50 feet away from me! They played a few songs, such as “Twinkle, Twinkle” and “Go Tell Aunt Rhody”, for us.
But then the real surprise came. The real reason my parents had brought us to the green on this particular day. The teacher turned to face the audience, and proceeded to say, “I have a lot of openings for new students! If there is anyone out there who would like to play the next song with us, come on up and join!”
The words hadn’t even finished leaving her mouth before I was up there, grinning from ear to ear. I couldn’t believe I was finally going to play the violin. After what felt like forever, especially for a four year old, I was at long last being handed a violin. The teacher, Miss Susan, gave each of us who had joined her an appropriately sized violin, showed us how to hold it, and told us we were going to play “Pop Goes the Weasel”. But something seemed off, there was something wrong.
“But, Miss Susan!” I said, “What about the whistle stick? How are we supposed to make our violins sing?”
To this day, my first violin teacher, Susan Joy, still remembers that day, and still jokes about my “whistle stick”. Now she’s the one telling me how I make my violin sing.
That is why I want to continue my education. For the past 17½ years I have loved the violin. Since the age of four I have played my heart out at every performance and I want to continue to do so. I love to perform in community gatherings at home in New Hampshire, and being so far away in Ohio has made some of that more difficult. But I also want to be able to share my passion with other kids. I would love to reconnect with the Boston Youth Symphony Orchestras, with whom I spent every Sunday the last three years of my high school career. I want to perform, teach, and help bring communities together. And some day, I hope I can be another child’s “Miss Susan”.
That was all I said for six months. Every day for six months my parents put up with hearing about every violin I saw or heard on each and every street corner, television show, and radio station. It took six months for my parents to finally break and give in to the little four-year-old me. I still remember the day well.
One July day in small town New Hampshire, my parents brought my brother and me to the town green. There were all sorts of arts and crafts set up for us. However, my parents didn’t take us to any of those centers. No, they walked my brother and me right over to a little stage area. Just as we got there, a violin teacher and her entire studio walked on stage. I was so excited! Real people playing real violins not 50 feet away from me! They played a few songs, such as “Twinkle, Twinkle” and “Go Tell Aunt Rhody”, for us.
But then the real surprise came. The real reason my parents had brought us to the green on this particular day. The teacher turned to face the audience, and proceeded to say, “I have a lot of openings for new students! If there is anyone out there who would like to play the next song with us, come on up and join!”
The words hadn’t even finished leaving her mouth before I was up there, grinning from ear to ear. I couldn’t believe I was finally going to play the violin. After what felt like forever, especially for a four year old, I was at long last being handed a violin. The teacher, Miss Susan, gave each of us who had joined her an appropriately sized violin, showed us how to hold it, and told us we were going to play “Pop Goes the Weasel”. But something seemed off, there was something wrong.
“But, Miss Susan!” I said, “What about the whistle stick? How are we supposed to make our violins sing?”
To this day, my first violin teacher, Susan Joy, still remembers that day, and still jokes about my “whistle stick”. Now she’s the one telling me how I make my violin sing.
That is why I want to continue my education. For the past 17½ years I have loved the violin. Since the age of four I have played my heart out at every performance and I want to continue to do so. I love to perform in community gatherings at home in New Hampshire, and being so far away in Ohio has made some of that more difficult. But I also want to be able to share my passion with other kids. I would love to reconnect with the Boston Youth Symphony Orchestras, with whom I spent every Sunday the last three years of my high school career. I want to perform, teach, and help bring communities together. And some day, I hope I can be another child’s “Miss Susan”.