Off Key
I recently learned that my sixth-grade music teacher passed away. That reminded me of the time I sang in defiance because of my hearing loss.
Our elementary school consisted of kindergarten through sixth-grade. There were two separate sixth-grade classes. Both classes assembled in the gymnasium for chorus practice. We were singing patriotic songs like The Star-Spangled Banner when the music teacher became upset.
“Who ever is making that screeching sound?” she demanded. “Who is it?”
A couple of the guys looked at me, but I didn’t think I was the one. I reached for my hearing-aid box and turned down the volume. Maybe the aid was squealing from feedback, I thought.
“Okay then,” she groveled, “we will start over.”
And so she led us off with the national anthem. She started walking amongst us, intently listening to each and every student.
Still one row away from me, she yelled, “Stop, Jim will you come forward please.”
I stepped out in front of the chorus not knowing what to expect.
“Jim, I’d like you to sing the national anthem for us.”
“B-b-but umm,” I stammered.
“No buts son! Just sing for us.”
“Uh n-n-no, I can’t.”
“Was it you making that awful noise?” she inquired. “It was you trying to disrupt my class, wasn’t it?”
“No ma’am, not me.”
“Then why won’t you sing for us?”
My gaze dropped to the gym floor. My voice nearly a whisper. “Cuz . . . I umm, I don’t know all the words.”
The gym filled with laughter. Then class was dismissed. The following week I was instructed not to attend chorus anymore. No reason forthcoming.
Even though I was currently taking weekly speech lessons, I didn’t really believe anything was wrong with my way of speaking or singing. When youngsters grow up with a partial hearing loss, they don’t realize how they are speaking different from all the others. I pronounced the words the same way I believed others spoke them. I stubbornly insisted that I spoke perfect English.
There was one other person who didn’t participate in chorus. Her name was Nina. She was an ill child and needed lots of study time to catch up. So she worked one-on-one with our classroom teacher while the rest of the class participated in chorus. I, as the intruder, was set-up with reading/writing compositions or math problems to solve. So much fun, huh?
Come June was graduation from Elementary School. I finally get to escape this living hell for another hell called Junior High. But first came the ceremony. We assembled in the gym to go over the event; who would speak, when to get your diploma, and practice the songs we would sing as the graduating class.
“Sing? No way!” I protested.
My classroom teacher stood before me, with the music teacher peering over his shoulder.
“But Jimmy,” he pleaded. “The entire class is going to be on-stage singing, even Nina.”
“Nobody liked my scr-E-E-E-ching, remember?” I added, with arms folded.
“Well, why not stand on-stage with your classmates and just mouth the words?” suggested the music teacher. “Besides all the parents want to see their child participate. If you don’t join the others, you’ll have to sit down front by yourself while they are singing.”
“You kicked me out and now ya want me to fake singing,” I shouted. “You didn’t even try to help me, or work with me. You humiliated me in front of the entire chorus. Then you just booted me out . . . with no explanation! I’m not singing! I’m not faking it either!”
Right up until the actual event, they tried to persuade me otherwise, but I wouldn’t budge.
And to this day, I still don’t know all them words to the national anthem.
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