Pecking order

I took a job at a secondary school as a team music director for the choirs. I did so because the person who teaches music at the school is a former classmate from college and her choirs are always exceptional. I love working with her. My duties include accompanying and training within sectionals. About once weekly I rehearse a different section, helping the young singers find their notes and learn the parts. It's actually a lot of fun.

For the last couple of weeks I've been working with the soprano, second soprano, and alto sections. Today I worked with tenors/baritones/basses. The boys are 12-15 years old. I find groups of boys interesting. There always seems to be one who is the loudest, who tries to instruct the others, who seems most visible. I call him the rooster. He has his staunch followers/admirers who do everything he asks. In the case of the choir groups, he generally is a soloist, is secure singing in any setting, and really loves choir--but not so much that he loses the respect of his choirmates. And he's usually cute.

Then there are the capons (I know this is a rather disturbing term, but bear with me). These are the young men who strut and talk, but no one seems to be listening. They usually have one or two followers who are shorter and seem to live lives of hero worship. They laugh often and loudly at anything their capon leader says, who, however can't quite measure up to the rooster.

Finally, there are those who strive for invisibility, who wander around, oblivious of their surroundings, more entertained by what is going on in their own heads. They take no notice of the roosters, capons, or groupies, but huddle by themselves, hoping to escape notice.

Today, when we did sectionals I found myself surrounded by the invisible group. For whatever reason, they seemed very happy to stand as close to me as possible. I think it was my perfume (one of them actually said, "Hey! You smell good."). The rooster began crowing, but settled down as I reminded him that I was capable of directing without his help. The capons made jokes in undertones and their groupies stifled giggles.

I had been warned that this particular group of boys was a bit unruly. I'm okay with that. I'm fairly used to unruly boys. I mentioned to the capons that unless they wished to be separated from their groupies, they'd need to actually sing. I asked the invisible participants to step back a couple of feet. I allowed the rooster to organize his followers as he saw fit.

Then they sang--beautifully. There were no disturbances or mishaps, and the rooster told me he loved my voice. The capons hushed their groupies and told them to pay attention. The invisible group stepped away from me each time I reminded them. We sang and laughed and learned the part.

When it was time to go one of the invisible group who had become glued to my side said quietly, "Samantha (they are allowed to call me by my first name--it's an unusual school), this is my favorite part of choir. You make me feel like I'm really singing--even though I suck."

So...I smell good, the boys don't misbehave with me, and I make the invisible kids happy. I'd say that's a job well done. Oh, and on top of all that, they're perfectly adorable, and I love them.