Yesterday was the annual Christmas concert at school. After we got through the band performance--which sounded like a group of 6th graders who just received their instruments for the first time--and through the middling entry-level choir, we arrived at the selective choir's performance. We got a new music teacher several years ago, and he's done wonders with our music program. Their voices are in unison. The lyrics are crisp. Half a dozen boys step forward for confident, clear solos.
It's a sort of surreal experience, seeing the rambunctious energy (or, alternatively, sleepy ambivalence) prevalent in the classroom transformed into a joyful whole. Sure, the boys know what teamwork means; after all, they regularly work as one for sports or extracurriculars. And individual students know what it means to create art; some produce stunning photographs or deeply personal paintings. But I think it's one of the few times the boys come together in pursuit of beauty.
Afterwards, the students left to perform at the girls' school across the street. Later, I heard one bragging about the impression his solo made on the opposite sex. He might claim choir is all about the "rizz" (it's Oxford's Word of the Year, but thanks to my students, I've been familiar with the slang for quite awhile), but I'd like to think I know better.
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