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Sing We Joyous All Together

When The Boy told me, with a great sense of importance, “On December 17, we’re having a performance,” I immediately started clearing my mental calendar. “Everyone will have a job to do,” he went on happily. “And my teacher said you can come!” I have to admit, I’m way more excited about this than, perhaps, I should be. He’s only in kindergarten and there will surely be many, many performances to attend in the coming years. But this one will be a parenting first for me.

His preschool never held any performances . . . which was probably a good thing, given The Boy’s fierce abhorrence of Singing With Others in those days. He’s still not a big sing-along fan (“Happy Birthday” never fails to piss him off), so I’m particularly encouraged to see him so enthusiastic about this upcoming event. Even if he stands in the back holding up a cardboard snowflake and giving the audience the stink eye the whole time, I’m going to be one proud mama.

But it’s not just The Boy’s newfound willingness to participate in polite society that’s got me so smiley. I’m afraid the prospect of a school winter concert has awakened my inner chorus geek. Oh yes, there’s an inner chorus geek. She doesn’t get much of a chance to emerge these days, but she’s always lurking in the background – singing the kids a few extra show tunes even after they’ve fallen asleep, chiming in with the harmonies at Gymboree’s circle time, bursting into an unwitting verse of “99 Red Balloons” because Little Girl happened to draw one (it wasn’t even red).

And what better time to embrace one’s inner chorus geek than the holiday season, when singing in public is not only socially acceptable, but encouraged? I remember the first time I tagged along with Mr. Black’s family to Christmas Eve mass. I usually feel so out of place at Catholic services, as if the hand of God were about to come down and pluck me out. That not-being-able-to-receive-communion business is always so awkward. But the singing! I still knew every alto part in every carol on the program, from “Silent Night” to “Angels We Have Heard on High.” It was just like the school chorus concerts of yesteryear, only with incense.

I know we’re supposed to remember those school chorus concerts with little more than a fond eye roll ( and there’s certainly plenty of eye-roll-worthiness there), but I hold a special place in my heart for them, too. It used to be such a thrill – being in school at night; filing onto those risers in our holiday finery; standing under stage lights, facing an auditorium full of darkened applauding figures; the music teachers in their prim suits taking the stage with their game faces on, ready to lead us through that year’s serviceable renditions of holiday standards and super-cheesy originals. Even in high school, when just about everything else had lost its innocent joy to our newly acquired ennui, it was still pretty exciting.

This will be my first time participating in a school concert as the parent. If this fall’s kindergarten Salmon Migration Parade was any indication, I suppose I’d better get there early, bring the camera, and be prepared to throw some elbows for a good seat. But beyond that, I’m not quite sure what to make of my new role here. Will I have an impulse toward stage-motherness? Will I have to work hard to suspend my knee-jerk cynical detachment, forcing down a smirk in the face of the performance’s inevitable cheesiness? Or . . . will I burst into sentimental tears at the mere sight of my five-year-old little guy standing and singing with his classmates? Honestly, I’m putting my money on that last one.

But why? What is it about a group of kids making barely-competent music together that melts the heart so? Is it simply the ritual? I suppose you could compare it to the first day of school or any number of “baby’s firsts.” Just watching them take their places where we remember taking our places before is enough to bring a lump to the throat. Or perhaps there’s something comforting in seeing our cultural traditions carried out by the future generation, reassuring us on some subconscious level that our society will live on, thanks to The Children.

Mostly, though, it makes me think of The Music Man. I’m sure any self-respecting chorus geek is familiar with the show, but just to recap: A traveling salesman posing as a music professor sells instruments and band uniforms, promising to transform the small town’s wayward youth into a first-class marching band. It’s a scam, of course, and after two acts of romantic misadventures and dance numbers, the salesman gets caught. But just as he’s about to be sentenced to tar-and-feathering by a mob of angry rubes, in march the kiddos in their band uniforms, instruments in hand. Led by their shackled “professor,” they raise their instruments to their lips and blat out the most endearingly awful version of Beethoven’s “Minuet in G” you’ve ever heard. The parents are charmed to tears, practically swooning with pride, and all is forgiven.

I used to interpret this last scene as a joke; that the folks are so culturally backward they just don’t know the difference. But there’s a heart-warming truth there, too, which is probably responsible for this musical’s popularity: Even if we do know the difference between a stellar “Minuet in G” and a crappy one, we’d react just the same if it were our kids in that band. After all, just think of how many parents have been forced to sit through insufferable high school versions of The Music Man only to rise to their feet with genuine, exhilarating pride at the curtain call. It couldn’t matter less that the kids didn’t turn out a Broadway-quality performance. The fun – and the art itself – is in the process.

Or maybe I'm over-thinking this. I just asked Mr. Black what the appeal is in watching children sing. He simply replied "The same reason why people like pictures of babies dressed up as flowers. It's cute."

Have you ever attended a holiday performance at your child's school? How did it go?

Tags: Oh, great, you got the kid singing. I hope you're happy now, The Music Man, chorus, music, school concerts

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Comment by Mommy Monster on December 7, 2009 at 3:10am: Glad you're back! :)

I never fail to mist up at these things. Our kids each have at least one every year. Wild Thing's most recent was the Monday before Thanksgiving. Walking to the parking lot, I was trying to explain to Loki why these things always, always make me feel all sentimental and a little melancholy. It feels like this huge stark reminder of time passing so quickly (too quickly) and I get an hour or so to sit back and do nothing except watch my not-so-babyish-baby stand up with his peers and sing his little heart out. Or stand there with a cardboard snowflake and give the stink eye. It's a like a pause button for me.

Even now I can't really find the right words, but it's a very emotional thing for me.

Comment by Herasmus B. Dragon on December 7, 2009 at 4:47am: I LOVED teaching band, more to the 4th graders than to the 8th graders, because they didn't care that they sounded like a gaggle of tone-deaf geese being run over by a hoopdie, they just had so much FUN playing their instruments. Big O is the same way in each of her performances, singing loudly and proudly and loving that she looks pretty and everyone is smiling at her and her friends and claps when they are done. Their pride is infectious.

Comment by Mamawho on December 7, 2009 at 5:24am: My childhood activity was singing. By second grade, I had private coaches and lessons and all that. I loved it, but there was some pressure to perform. GirlWho loves to sing, but has shown no interest in doing what I did - both to my chagrin and relief, mostly relief. She is so laid back about the programs. If I don't diligently read every scrap sent home from school, I'd not hear about performances. She is a bit like me in that she wants us to come, but she doesn't want to see us before the show and tries not to catch our eye while they're performing. We make her shy. I was the same way. But of course I could always find my daddy because he was totally colorblind, yet liked to dress festively for Xmas. Red jacket, green Sansabelt pants. Big video camera with super-fancy mic. We try not to do that to GirlWho.

I think Mr. Black's assessment is right. Kids singing is just damn cute.

Comment by ks on December 7, 2009 at 6:37am: N's school had a holiday program a couple of years ago, when he was in kindergarten. It was really cute and endearingly awful. And I mean, really awful. And hilarious. But also completely adorable, listening to a load of 5/6 year olds sing off key to Christmas songs they only knew about half the words to. They haven't had one the last two years, though, since they got the new principal. She's superior in every way to the old one, except for the lack of holiday programs.

A's pre-K class is having one on Wednesday during lunch. I'll be canceling my office hours so I can go and I'm kind of looking forward to it. It'll be cute, and A is very excited, because he loves to sing (not well, but he loves doing it--I'm afraid the kid has inherited my lack of musical ability in that department).

Comment by The Oracle on December 7, 2009 at 7:09am: The Dragon went to a Christian daycare from 18 months till almost 4 years old. Once a year, they pimped the church to the parents by holding a "children's service" where people talked about how great the childcare program was and our kids sang songs about Jesus. Despite our utter lack of interest in the institution, we got dressed up and went just to see our kid perform.

The first time, when he was barely two years old, he was terrified. Alan had to walk up with him when the kids were called to the altar, then sit with him through the entire thing. The second time, when he had just turned three, he literally RAN down the aisle, took center stage (literally: He came down in front of the rough rows of other kids so everyone could see HIM.), sang loudly and played air guitar throughout the entire thing.

It was one of the most awesome moments of my life. I had tears running down my face, I was laughing so hard but trying so hard not to.

Comment by Mamawho on December 7, 2009 at 7:24am: Kathy, that's hilarious!

At one of my elementary school's Xmas programs, the teachers thought it would be awesome to have a real puppy on stage while my friend, the violin prodigy, played "How Much Is That Doggie in The Window." He ended up scampering off the stage and into the Christmas tree, toppling it over. My friend just kept on playing, but no one was paying attention to her. The puppy was trying to escape the gym by running madly under people's chairs and feet.

I think I need to watch The Best Christmas Pageant Ever.

Comment by kommishoner on December 7, 2009 at 10:04am: I would pay good money to have The Boy wave a snowflake and glare at me. Awesome!

I agree with Mr. Black and HBD: kids having fun and making music is really, really cute. They're so proud of themselves! I grew up singing in a Serious Girls' Chorus, memorizing music, performing all the time, etc. - one of those that trots kids out as kind of a "look what they can do! and at such a young age!" and not "look how much fun they're having!" While there's much to love about my intense childhood music education, I wish I'd gotten to experience a little more of the fun stuff.

Comment by StitchyWench on December 7, 2009 at 11:25am: Yay! These are really fun. They are horrible, but fun! Ri just had her fifth grade performance before Thanksgiving. They had a fifties theme and somehow managed to not find a single female artist's song to sing (pissed me off a bit). But it was still cute, and she got to dance in a poodle skirt.

Comment by Daddy Geek Boy on December 7, 2009 at 4:16pm: Is it wrong that I can't wait for this stuff from my kids? But when I think about the crap I made my parents sit through...

Comment by Teacher Tom on December 8, 2009 at 7:28pm: Every year my 4-5 year olds perform a play that they have written themselves. They've made their own costumes, sets, and props. My job is essentially to just read their words as they perform. When we started doing this, I had envisioned it as the older kids doing something for the younger kids. When we walked into the gym for the performance there must have been 50 adults in the audience and at least 3 video cameras on tripods. The younger kids sat in awed silence, while the adults bawl.

Sing We Joyous All Together

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