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I don’t like staring out at all those waiting faces.No matter how much I tell myself they aren’t, I feel them judging, ready to leap up, point, and laugh at the tiniest mistake I make.
Every time I lift it up from the pedal my foot starts to do the nervous dance, shaking a tiny but urgent shake.
The only way I can stop it is to keep my foot anchored on the pedal, somewhat hindering my dynamic abilities but enabling me to get through the piece.
I walk around the side of the bench farthest from the audience to take my seat, just as I had been taught as a wee little girl.
“Her first piece will be Invention in A minor by Beethoven”.
“Our next player will be [redacted].” I walk up to the whale-like instrument, set my music down, and take a bow.
My bow is short and curt, little more than a head nod, although I had been taught that it should be the length of the word “hippopotamus”.
You’ve been playing this piece for years, bringing it back for your senior year was a great choice, you’ll perform it flawlessly. “Now she will play Prelude in E minor by Chopin.” This one’s simple enough but, that tempo and those dynamics! Playing a piece that is so slow and piano is like standing naked in the middle of the high school cafeteria.
The fast tempo of the piece enables me to keep moving without stopping to think and overanalyze what I’m doing. Everything is all open and out there, for everyone to see.
I’m Bobby, and I am hoping that this essay will adequately appease my parents’ insistence that I apply to college.
Please enjoy the enclosed glitter while considering my application.