Like Totally Not My Music School Experience...
She could never read music notes.
In junior high she played the flute and only understood a fraction of what the music sheet in front of her said. In class she listened to the other students play; she sat by the most talented flute player in her class, mimicking the other girls hand movements. It worked, to an extent. She passed.
When she sang in choir, hitting the notes was a task. She mouthed the words the first time they had to sing a new piece. And she listened. She hoped she pulled it off.
In grade 10 she took up playing the drums, feeling the beat beneath her hands. She followed her teachers instructions, staring at his hand movements intently, following the down movement of his feet. She closed her eyes and just listened like all the other times, her drum sticks magic wands in her hands.
She gave up the flute, singing, and drums when she grew older. It was only natural to grow out of fantasies. But sometimes she found herself humming along to a tune on the radio and it grew until she burst into song. Or she would be watching the orchestra and her fingers would mimic the hands on stage. Or her fingers would follow the drum beat, tapping rhythmically on her thighs.
She never lost the music, not really. Even if the notes still spoke a foreign language -- she listened.
In junior high she played the flute and only understood a fraction of what the music sheet in front of her said. In class she listened to the other students play; she sat by the most talented flute player in her class, mimicking the other girls hand movements. It worked, to an extent. She passed.
When she sang in choir, hitting the notes was a task. She mouthed the words the first time they had to sing a new piece. And she listened. She hoped she pulled it off.
In grade 10 she took up playing the drums, feeling the beat beneath her hands. She followed her teachers instructions, staring at his hand movements intently, following the down movement of his feet. She closed her eyes and just listened like all the other times, her drum sticks magic wands in her hands.
She gave up the flute, singing, and drums when she grew older. It was only natural to grow out of fantasies. But sometimes she found herself humming along to a tune on the radio and it grew until she burst into song. Or she would be watching the orchestra and her fingers would mimic the hands on stage. Or her fingers would follow the drum beat, tapping rhythmically on her thighs.
She never lost the music, not really. Even if the notes still spoke a foreign language -- she listened.