Personal Narrative: My Hand In The Orchestra

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Pages: 2

Sheer pain shot through my fingertips. The rigged strings seemed to cut through the soft padding of my skin as I changed the notes coming from my instrument. No matter how much dedication I put toward displaying Mozart’s graceful melodies, all that was produced was agonizing ear pains. My 8th grade year of middle school I decided to explore my hand in orchestra. Ambition and excitement overcame me as I picked up the pen, anxious to secure my spot in the class on the electives signup sheet. Before I could even finish writing a letter on the paper, my mom’s hysterical cackle disintegrated my hopes of experimenting with my musical talents. She gave me a look that seemed as she was almost bewildered at the fact that I wanted to join orchestra. …show more content…
As soon as I laid my hands on the rented violin I began to practice, determined to improve. I would practice daily, scanning through the black footprint of notes that arranged themselves into simple melodies. Despite my efforts to preform with grace, my mechanics were completely unorthodox, the bow scraped across the strings creating a god-awful screeching noise that could pierce through even the thickest glass. Nevertheless, I ignored the awful cries that rang throughout the house and continued to push through the practice. The time had come for our final concert, the ultimate test that would legitimize my violin playing ability. It would have felt so empowering to be able to rub in my mom’s face that I had taken on her challenge with ease, but I was still awful at playing the violin by the end of the year. During the concert I resorted to air playing, attempting to dodge the, “I told you so” from my mom afterward but she could tell I had been faking it. I was so frustrated at the fact that I couldn’t recite even the slightest decent sound, yet I could get past a whole team of girls on the basketball court to score the winning