Grace Whitaker

Professor Edmiston
Eng 101
19 Sept 2016
Learning The Notes
The crisp air of the choir hall turned my clammy hands to ice. My mind raced as I
walked toward the music stand. I was asked my name and what year of high school I would be
going into. I nervously croaked Grace Whitaker. Im going to be a freshman. That answer flew
from my mouth to his mind like lead drops into water. This choir was notorious for not letting
freshman in and I could feel this reality through the knot that was twisting itself in my stomach. I
looked down at the sheet music in front of me. It was a strange code I had only seen a few times
before. Something I had not yet learned to decipher. The hand-me-down knowledge I had gained
from my sister would not do me any service here. I looked up at the director and explained my
situation. That I had not yet learned to read music. I had only learned to interpret it by ear.
Thats fine, how about I play a melody and you sing it back to me? Then well identify your
range, and see if you can hear harmonies. He responded. I nodded and we continued on. After
the audition finished the director shook my hand and said there would be a list of who made it
into the choir posted online. I nodded and left the hall. My mind racing through all the tiny
mistakes I had made. I didnt know if I was good enough to get in, but I seriously doubted that I
was.
To my surprise, the impossible became possible. The list of who made it in and who
didnt was posted within three days. I immediately was filled with excitement and fear because I
was not only the only freshman in this choir, but I was also the only one unable to read music.

This made my entire first semester in this choir a shaky and nerve wracking experience. I knew I
didnt quite fit in with these older, better trained singers. They viewed music as a science;
something tried, tested, with many formulas that had been proved time and time again. My
young brain, however, viewed music as this amazing, nebulous, and highly addictive amorphous
thing that I wanted to know more about. My views were considered an aberration to these
masters of the trade. Since my director knew I could not yet read music, he would do his best to
help me when he could. He would play my part on piano, and I would sing it back to him. He
taught me the basics of written music: how many beats were assigned to what notes, how to
identify the key signature, and how to read time signatures. He was giving me the basic formulas
for music. He was turning me into a music scientist.
Thankfully, I was raised in a very large, very musical family. However, we werent
musical in the usual highly trained, knows theory like the back of their hand kind of way. Instead
our family had a long tradition of learning music by ear. This skill was passed down from parent
to child, generation after generation. Although this was a perfect precursor to a passion for
music, it left us needing deeper knowledge of the mechanics of music and how it functions. Ear
training simply shaped us into young addicts starving for the cultural enrichment music provides.
I have these very distinct memories of my mother and my three sisters driving
down the road singing in beautiful four part harmonies. I would listen to how their voices
intertwined into a perfect and tight braid. I remember how they would produce these beautiful
sounds so effortlessly as if it were a skill they were born knowing. I remember my tiny self
trying to contribute to this. This typically resulted in me just repeating what they sang an octave
down and my older sister ultimately scolding me and pointing out Thats not how harmonies
work! Occasionally, however, I would have a very large jolt of bravery and attempt to create my

harmonies. Of course this would fail completely and the beautiful sounds they had produced
would quickly fall apart into a muddled dissonant mess.
Im very stubborn; I always have been. So I didnt let my musical failures get to
me. I knew that if I tried hard enough and focused enough I could someday be just as good as my
family. Being a young child raised in a very poor household, I did what any 8 year old kid, who's
mother worked two jobs, and had limited resources would: I begged my sister to teach me all she
knew. Everyday, we would come and race upstairs. She would slam her door shut and I would
dramatically collapse outside of it and yell AAAABIEEEE HELP MEEEEEEE!!! This method
took some time, but eventually she would cave.
My training initially began with a vocal proclamation from the deep abhorrence
my sister had toward helping me. These sessions would usually only last 15 or so minutes and
werent very productive. I would learn a couple new chords on piano, she would have me try to
figure out new chords and try to name them correctly and then she would move on with her 12
year old responsibilities. As time went on, however, she began to enjoy our little lessons and
eventually became the one initiating them. I think I became her project; Something fun for her to
work on when writing in her diary and playing game cube became repetitive. Soon my lessons
extended to 45 minutes and became more rigorous and advanced. I quickly learned to identify
major and minor chords, I could tell what was dissonant and what was not, and even began to
hear and reproduce simple harmonies. I soaked in every ounce of knowledge I could. As I began
to understand music even better, my addiction grew and pushed me into new endeavors.

Learning these building blocks of musical literacy made the world a much more
colorful and interesting place. As I began to understand basics in music like intervals in chords

and different rhythms, the world around me became a symphony of its own. New York City was
my favorite symphony. The sound of shoes hitting the ground in an upbeat tempo, the trains
clicking on the tracks, their horns sounding, people talking to each other or whistling, the sounds
of air conditioning machines whirring, and cars honking all had an order now. They were all
instruments in this symphony. But I was hungry for more. I knew I needed to be able to look at a
piece of paper and hear the music like so many of my peers could. I needed to feed my addiction
in every way possible.
When I was in high school, I was teased for my lack of obvious understanding of
written music. Thanks to my director, and older sister, I understood some foundational rules, but
I was not able to dissect the music as quickly as my peers. I could hear the music in my head, but
when it came time to say which note was doe and which note was sol, I took much longer than
my class mates. I didnt want to be stuck in this pattern of reading music slowly. Since my choir
director was only available a couple hours at this time and I already learned all that I could from
my sister, I needed to take initiative in self teaching. I began studying books on theory at the
library and tried to sight read pieces using a system in which each note is assigned a certain
syllable, for example if you are in the key of C major, you would call the root of the chord ( C )
doe and the note above that would be re, and then mi and so on. This system is called
solfege. I downloaded music training apps and did extensive research online. Soon I was
learning to sight read even faster.
In my second year in the Advanced Womens Choir a new director was hired. This
new director was adamant that we learned to sight read proficiently. When he announced this my
heart sank. I had been studying a superfluous amount, but I didnt feel confident in my sight
reading skills yet. The director pulled out a stack of sight reading practice books. He told us to

turn to the first page. I nervously opened it and looked down at the music. The first note was doe.
I relaxed a little bit. I could do this. We all sang the piece and to my surprise I could do it
flawlessly. We did several of these exercises and I was able to do all of them with minimal
mistakes. I felt amazingly accomplished. All of my hard work and time had finally payed off.
I soon discovered the work of Eric Whitacre. The way his music could influence
my mood and send me into an almost trance-like state fascinated me. I wanted to understand how
he did this. How certain melodies and harmonies could come together like this and why he chose
them. What drove him to write the music and lyrics he did? With my new ability to understand
music I was able to analyze piece after piece, something I could not have done a year ago.
This new literacy in music made me feel more connected to the community of
musicians around me. I felt as if I had a new outlet and opportunity to make friends. I was
connect with other musicians on a deeper level thanks to our shared passion for music. I could
have in depth and educated conversations with them or just fan girl endlessly over a certain
musician, conductor, or composer. Becoming literate in music put me on common ground with
my family, musical friends, and those in my choir. It made me feel included in a beautiful and
musical community.
Through hard work and dedication I was able to overcome a seemingly difficult obstacle
in becoming musically literate. I had to die to myself in a sense. Forget my insecurities and all
the little ways the world was telling me I couldnt, and instead take initiative to learn to read
music simply because I wanted to. Today I am so thankful I did that. I would not have the
amazing friendships from being in bands, to various musical theatre productions had I not
worked to learn. I would not have the awesome memories that I do if I had let simple things
stand in my way. Becoming literate in music was a series of choices I had to make for myself. I

had to make the decision to grow as a person and learn a new skill. Nobody could make that
decision for me.