Coming Full Circle

As a general rule, I really like the concept of "things coming full circle," whether it be in small form (e.g., a conversation) or on a much greater scale (i.e., the subject of this post).

That being said, last night signaled the completion of a circle I've been unknowingly circumnavigating for nearly 15 years. A circle which was set off by one person, similarly unaware of her involvement.

So who provided this impetus?

My elementary school orchestra teacher, Jill Rausch.

It's at this point that I should give a little bit of background on Taylor Morris, the little boy. When I started at Alma Elementary School, I didn't really have any activity to which I subscribed wholeheartedly. I never participated in sports, or karate, or any number of those types of activities; I just wasn't interested.

For that matter, I had also never shown any additional interest in music other than sing-a-long VHS tapes and dancing like a crazy child to my parents' music. [Neither of my parents, to my knowledge, discussed playing music with me (though both played instruments through junior high), and my older brother, at that point, was primarily interested in basketball and soccer.]

One day, near the end of 3rd grade, all the 3rd graders attended a short assembly in the multi-purpose room during which Ms. Rausch showed us violins, violas, cellos and basses, and informed us about the opportunity to participate in orchestra starting in 4th grade. That evening I went home to my parents and shared my excitement with them about the opportunity to play in orchestra. It just seemed so fun.

That summer, my mom took me to The Practice Pad, a small music store in Mesa, to go rent a cello. That's right, a cello. But when we got there, we discovered, much to my chagrin, that the store was out of cellos. So, some unassuming music store clerk pulled a trick I'm sure so many have pulled before: "Well, we're out of cellos right now...but hey, you could always take home this shiny, new violin!"

I took the violin, both eagerly and begrudgingly, with the futile hope that maybe a cello would somehow appear at the store in the next few days and I could trade back for it.

The rest, as "they" so often say, is history.

I should interject at this point to share some perspective on just how odd my "story" continues to appear as I get older. I have no idea, statistically, how the majority of professional musicians were first exposed to music. But, I can't think of any other professional musicians I personally know off-hand who started in their elementary school program without any prior exposure or influence (e.g., parents, older siblings, or friends).

In many ways, I feel like I, through many strokes of luck and good fortune, beat the system. There's often such a negative message, especially in the classical world, that you have to have started playing an instrument at an incredibly young age (i.e., 3 or 4) to be the best and find success, because so many of the best and successful did and will continue to do.

There is much truth to this idea: many of the best and most successful did start when they were young. However, this relationship between age and success is merely a correlation. In statistical terms, one does not cause the other. I know of incredibly talented youth who have burned out, and also of incredible talents who started playing as late as high school. And though I'm far from being the best violinist my age, I've somehow ended up finding success and happiness as a musician.

What I'm very much coming to discover is that the most important things any artist can have are passion and enthusiasm for the art he or she practices, performs, and pursues.

In many instances, this is usually instilled from the influence and guidance of positive, encouraging music educators.

So now we come--full circle--back to Jill Rausch.

It turned out that she was an honest saleswoman: her pitch to us 3rd graders about how fun orchestra was ended up being true. Ms. Rausch was exciting, funny, inspiring, enthusiastic, and magnetic. She created an orchestra environment to which my friends and I were excited to return week after week. And perhaps most importantly, it was clear that Ms. Rausch loved teaching music; we, in turn, loved learning music.

Ms. Rausch is proof that music educators can not only provide an outlet for creativity at a young age, but also change the directory and meaning of a life through one, seemingly insignificant, afternoon assembly.

Thank you, Ms. Rausch, for hooking me on music--it's been greater than you ever could have promised!