Sing... Sing a Song

Mar had her first choir concert of the year last week.

For starters, I'll give you a brief glimpse of her duet part:

Nice job, Mar!

We did not have the best seat in the house (which would pretty much be only the front row), so after some camera juggling, we were at least able to catch a snippet of her (I painstakingly figured out how to remove the lengthy piece of video showing the back of people's heads as we passed the camera the length of our row trying to get it).

I think it's kind of cute how she was so concerned that the other singers be where they needed to be, when they needed to be there - so much like her mamita.

For every other piece, she was standing on the top row, left side.

A bit more conducive to parental enjoyment. However, not much. This was our view:

On the program:
Aya Ngena (Zulu Folk Song)
Fair Phyllis (Mar's fave)
How Can I Keep From Singing?
Ain't No Mountain High Enough

It made me think of my choir concert days in middle school Jr. High. 

I couldn't help but show a couple of comparisons. For fun.

Note: I'm going to be perfectly honest. During those crazy Jr. High trying-to-fit-in years, some of my friends and I often sometimes occasionally wrote {not very nice} words about people in our yearbooks (thus the added doodle hearts). I don't know if it was the "thing to do" at the time (likely), but as an adult, I find it offensive and embarrassing to admit. I have oft encouraged my children to be careful of what they write, and what they let others write in their yearbooks. It could come back to haunt you! The funny thing is, those not-so-nice words were usually written about either the boys we were infatuated with, or the girls we were dying to be friends with.  The vernacular wasn't nearly as blatantly vulgar as much of the language used today - pretty much words like freak, scum, and stoner (on anyone who had their eyes half-closed). However, still defamatory and disrespectful, which I regret. The word above my head was written by someone else, but I think I crossed out my own face. Such a 7th grade thing to do.

I usually accompanied the choir for one musical selection at each concert. I remember that I never-not-once made it through an entire number without a mess-up, but to this day appreciate my choir teacher who showed such great confidence in my so-extremely-limited-you-would-be-shocked piano skills.

When I think about teachers that made a difference in my life, she is at the top of the list. I would love to find Mrs. Schmidt someday and thank her.
Mauri's cute choir teacher, Mrs. Alexander, reminds me so much of her.
I didn't snap a picture of Mrs. A, so it's on my to-do list for the Christmas Concert.

I also participated in the 7th grade Swing Choir.

I DID write the not-so-nice words on my own face on this picture. What was I thinking?

Back to Mar's concert. Here was part of her cheering section:

It was so fun to have her sisters there to support her.

You SING, girl. Sing a song.