“Sing.” The soft yet assertive tone in Mrs. Kletcha’s voice immediately broke the silence, and the chorus of timid preschoolers obediently began to sing along to Have You Ever Seen The Rain? by Creedence Clearwater Revival. This was the same song that had been faintly playing in the background of Mrs. Kletcha’s classroom every day for the past three weeks, as she worked tirelessly to drill its lyrics and melody into our heads. And in this moment, every single four-year-old in the room sought to make Mrs. Kletcha proud, by perfectly regurgitating what we had been practicing daily, with no lyrics altered, no note sung off-key, no beat placed out of time. Every four-year-old in the room, except for one.
Mrs. Kletcha’s luminous, hazel eyes seemed to turn to placid, colorless stones on her face as they zeroed in on me, the only one who wasn’t singing. I can’t remember if I chose not to sing because I was shy or just being flat-out obstinate, because at that time in my life, I was both. “Sing!” This was Mrs. Kletcha’s second order to sing along, with only a slight increase in volume from the first one, but a drastic change in tone. Even though I was well aware of the reason for my teacher’s frustration, I still refused to sing and continued to stare at her with a little smirk on my face. “SING!” Mrs. Kletcha’s voice, full of rage the third time she ordered me to sing was almost enough to shatter the walls of the classroom, and it made about a dozen tiny heads whip around and stare in our direction. I vividly remember the desire to crawl out of my own skin as I did as Mrs. Kletcha said and started to quietly murmur the song with my classmates.
Yes, that experience scared me as a preschooler whose teacher had just screamed at her in front of the entire class. However, it also was the first experience where I felt encouraged to come out of my shell and share my voice with others. Now, whenever I feel hesitant to sing in front of new people or nervous before a performance, I replay the voice of my preschool teacher in my head, not as a scare tactic, but as a source of ambition and drive to do what I love.
In addition to Mrs. Kletcha, there have been so many people back home, including my family, friends, and vocal teachers who have endlessly supported my singing. Back home was also where all of my milestones in my singing career took place. Being screamed at by Mrs. Kletcha to sing, making up stupid little songs as a six-year-old about what my mom was cooking for dinner, attending my first voice lesson, confidently belting karoake Taylor Swift and Katy Perry songs in my living room with my best friend Katherine, performing in all of my elementary school talent shows, rehearsing for voice recitals in my bathroom because it had the best acoustics in the whole house, and finally, preparing songs for my college audition videos are some of the many memories that I associate with my love for music. And they all occurred back home. When I think of home, I think of a composite of the small places that gave me a platform to find my voice and of the people who supported me in doing so.