Senior Moment

By "senior moment," I mean that creepy feeling of, "oh God, I'm leaving" and actually comprehending what that means. Obviously, I've known for some time that I would be leaving school as I know it second semester, and that whatever shelter Linworth, Kilbourne, and my home still offer will be gone when I leave for college next fall. But that intellectual knowledge hardly ever reaches my core. I can say, "I only have two days left," or "I never have to write another college comp paper," but my inner self still prepares for the world it knows best, and expects to find it even when I know I have left. Even having left, the true implications do not reach me immediately until they burst before me in sudden insight. That—for the purposes of this blog—is a "senior moment."

I just got home from an oboe lesson. I left a full 40 minutes after I was supposed to, and my lesson should have only been a half hour. I think that's the longest time I stretched things, but to be fair, we probably did not even spend a full 30 minutes playing. Driving home, the thought suddenly hit me that I do not need therapy only because of my amazing music teachers. So I must take this moment to send my love. This does not mean I do not have love or thanks for my other teachers, but I want to honor my music teachers for the moment, especially my private piano teacher and oboe teacher because I do not think I've ever really thought about how much they really do for me or mean to me. There is the music, and that alone is a treasure, but they have helped me through so much else just by listening and always being there. I realized that tonight.

The beginning of that impact came almost a month ago (or over a month ago?) at my last choir concert. I found that instead of counting down days till walkabout or days left of school, I was counting choir rehearsals. I was trying to imagine going to Kilbourne, as I would for band class, and never going to choir and rarely seeing Grif. I had not really thought I would mind at all for a long time because I've never been particularly impressed with my choir class. But I found I was going to miss Griffin tremendously and the weight of leaving choir became heavier and heavier as time passed. Somehow though, I never really looked farther than that. I felt a pang of regret passing the choir room today, but I didn't think twice about the dwindling time left in band, or the shortening time between now and when I must bid goodbye to my private teachers. But that won't last either, will it? I realized that tonight.

I think, in giving so much over to music, I have given a great deal up to my music teachers. I have turned to you for help so many times, sometimes in music sometimes in life and even when I haven't, you have taught me so much. So even though it's time to move on, and I'm more than ready, I don't know what I'm going to do without you. I know there will be other people to help me and guide me, that I will certainly have a fair share of music teachers next year, but I still can't imagine not having you around. I realized that tonight. Fully. Thank you so much, Steve Rosenberg, Cynthia Adams, Larry Griffin, Phil Day, Don Nathan. I love you.