Page 19 of Play Me

Chapter Eight

CADENCE

The school orchestra erupts into their finale.

One, two, three, four, my baton keeps the time while I gesture to the brass section to keep their build on the crescendo...hold it...hold it...my hand directs them...and go!

They break into an almost chaotic burst of sound. Almost. But these kids aren’t the best in this school for nothing. Controlled but fierce. They bring the epic piece to a breathtaking halt.

We all hold our breaths as the sounds fade.

Then Greyson, the first flute, jumps up and says what we’re all thinking, “Yeehaw, we all finished at the same time!”

I can’t help but join them in their laughter. But my heart weighs a little heavy with the news I’m about to have to give them.

“Great job, everyone. That was probably our best run-through yet!” I smile at them, just wanting to give them a moment to enjoy the progress they’ve made in the last two months. Putting in the extra rehearsals and even one-on-one time with me to perfect their individual parts and solos. “Kids, before you go, there’s just some news.”

The noise from their packing up stops. They know me pretty well and I guess they can hear the apprehension in my voice.

“As you know, the band trip to the Nationals is going to cost a lot. We’ve applied for our full orchestra which is almost fifty of you. So, that’s, well, it’s a lot.”

“Miss Bray...”

“Just a sec, Greyson. The school isn’t normally budgeted for the trip, mostly since this is the first time we’ve made it to Nationals for a long time. So, look, we’re trying to get the money, it’s just not a given yet.”

“How bad is it, Miss Bray?”

“Honestly, at this point, I’m not going to lie to you, it’s not looking great. But I don’t want you to give up. I promise you guys, I’m going to do whatever it takes, OK? We haven’t worked so hard for nothing! OK, guys?”

I get a small murmur in response.

“Come on, guys, you can do better than that. You with me, guys?”

“YES, MISS BRAY!”

“That’s better. So kids, get outta here and don’t think we’re not having an extra rehearsal this weekend.”

I give each of the kids a smile as they march out, instruments and bags in hand. I can tell my news is weighing heavily on them. Five years ago, the school didn’t even have a music program. After I came here as a substitute teacher and heard how some of the kids wanted to learn the piano, I started to teach them in groups after school.

Slowly more and more kids came out of the woodwork. Some with no music training at all, some whose parents were driving an hour out of the way for practical and theory classes because the school wasn’t providing them.

Together with Sarah, who was also new at the school, we applied and were granted a small music budget for the school. And the more the music program grew, the more students were wanting to join and learn. Too many than the small grants could stretch to. But I didn’t have the heart to say no to them. How do you say no to a child who is begging you to learn something that you can teach them? But the school could barely afford new resources for the library and computer labs, and as too often is the case, music and art are viewed as luxuries.

So the last five years have been scrimping and saving. The music program students and I on the weekends, out washing cars and selling chocolates. Buying hand-me-down instruments at yard sales and barely readable orchestral scores. But those things didn’t matter to me, and it didn’t matter to the kids. All that mattered was we could get together and make music.

Five years ago, there was nothing and now the school’s orchestra has beaten every other school in their region and earned their spot in the Nationals. The only thing that was going to stop that bus leaving for Canberra was my dead body.

I walk around the music room, tucking in the chairs and putting away the music stands. I run my fingers over the old baby grand piano left to us by a benefactor in his will who had a grandchild who attended the school. I sit down and wiggle around on the stool, enjoying the squeaks and creaks it makes as I get comfortable.

My fingers graze the keys.

I love the sound of this old piano. The hours I’ve spent hearing new students fumble and find their way around it, and the sheer perfection that is the performance of some of the more advanced students. Making classics by Beethoven and Mozart their own.

I play the beginning notes of Beethoven’s “Fur Elise” and hum along.

“Dum dum dum dum dum ...dum da da da...”

I close my eyes, letting my fingers find their own way over the keys. After “Moonlight Sonata”, it’s probably one of the most popular piano pieces in history and the bane of every piano teacher’s existence.