I've been thinking a lot lately about my history with the clarinet. It may not interest you all that much, but since I've been thinking about it, I thought I'd write about it. I started thinking about it because of the holiday orchestra at church. Since it was made clear that "all ages and levels" were welcome to play, I very hesitantly decided to go ahead and do so...after all, I had played only a handful of times in the past 15 years, and I worried that they may not be considering that someone at my level would even think about playing.
It has been an interesting 10 days or so with my clarinet. Poor embouchure (yes, I had to look up the spelling), fumbling fingers, and complete lack of any sight-reading ability in the first few days made me wonder what in the world I was doing. I tried to assuage my concerns by telling myself that nobody in church was really going to even care about how well or poorly I played, much less hold it against me. But I hate feeling inadequate at something, so I practiced as much as my out-of-shape cheeks (who knew cheeks could be out-of-shape??) could take.
This past Sunday, the orchestra played. I played...not well. Lots of wrong notes, messed-up rhythms, unwritten breaks because my mouth and my lungs just weren't completely up to the task. But, after, I didn't feel as terrible about it as I thought I would. Even in the few days since, my cheeks have strengthened some, my fingers are a bit more sure, notes make more sense...and my thoughts have gone a lot to the love/hate relationship I have had with the clarinet.
It started in fifth grade. I wanted to play the saxophone, because even then, I thought it to be a more soulful instrument, but my mom signed me up for the clarinet, so that's what I started learning. I didn't love it and at the end of fifth grade, when we were going to move across the state, I figured I just wouldn't keep playing wherever we ended up.
But, as it turned out, we didn't move, although I did start middle school, where there was a different band teacher, Mr. Severance. I still didn't plan to play. I didn't even think about it much until the he sought me out in the cafeteria one day. He told me he had seen me play the previous year and said he thought I had a lot of talent (how do you decide that from watching a ten year old barely play?) and pleaded with me to keep playing. I conceded, borrowed a clarinet from the school, and joined band. The thing is, though I didn't really mind playing, I hated practicing, and I hated missing my normal classes to go to lessons even more. I quit at the end of 6th grade.
But, I missed it (yes, I am fickle, I know). In the middle of eighth grade, I asked one of my clarinet-playing friends to ask Mr. Severance if I could start playing the clarinet again. He said yes, and I started playing again right away. He still thought I had talent. In ninth grade (the first year in the high school band), I was 4th chair (out of maybe 12?), then 3rd in 10th grade, then first in 11th. Mr. Severance even set up free private lessons for me...giving free drum lessons to a student of another band teacher (who had been a clarinet major) so that I could get free clarinet lessons from him.
The problem I had, though, was that I was convinced that being good at playing the clarinet was completely different than being a good musician, and I did not think that any amount of effort would turn me into a good musician and I felt foolish trying. So, I quit my lessons. I still feel like a wretched person for that. Then, I was sick for the spring concert my junior year. Then I decided to skip my senior year and head to college early. I think I must have been the biggest disappointment ever to Mr. Severance. Ugh. I was so lazy and selfish. But I did learn to love playing the clarinet. I really did.
After high school, though, I didn't exactly seek out opportunities to play. So, other than playing a couple songs once with church's college band (they needed a Clarkson student to participate so they could play at the school's culture night), I've never really played in the past 15 years. Well, I have occasionally pulled it out to play for 10 minutes, or so...but even that has only happened maybe 5 times. And I have often missed it. So, now, even though my skills are rusty, to say the least, I must confess to really being thrilled to have a reason to be playing again. And maybe I won't need a "good" reason to keep playing once the holiday orchestra is done. Maybe the fact that I really love it is enough of a reason. We'll see.
