Yes, those were the words from my piano teacher, Sylvia Parker's mouth this afternoon when I saw her hours after I passed the prestigious, "Piano Proficiency Exam." That's right. All of it.
Okay. You caught me. It's not actually prestigious, but it is dreaded by many if not all music students. There is an overwhelming fear that overtakes the body as you climb the steps to Sylvia's office. Some don't even make it up those steps, their knees just simply knock together too hard, and down they tumble. But those who make it take a seat on a shiny black bench perched outside of her door. Waiting...listening...counting breaths, desperately trying to calm their heart beats. My heart doesn't even beat that fast when I run around or jump rope or something. The door opens, Sylvia's head pops out and through giggles she says "Come on in!"
"Okay," I thought, "This will be fine."
As I followed her in and smiled at the other faculty members who'd be judging me she says to them, "Our first victim."
REALLY?
Cliché. And Rude.
But whatever, I passed. Hands shaking like a chihuahua in a snowbank on the side of I89.
(I don't know why that would ever happen.)
For myself and the other music education students passing this exam is the difference between being allowed to student teach, and being forced to change majors at the end of your second to last semester of undergrad.
So you can see why I'm pleased.
GOOD LUCK ON FINALS EVERYONE!
And Congrats to my fellow piano players.
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