Growing pains

I had my last voice lesson today. It didn't really dawn on me ahead of time that this would be my final lesson here at MySchool. If I'd realized it, perhaps I might have been more motivated to start the paper earlier yesterday so that I would have had more than 3 hours of sleep. (Little sleep= yucky voice)

My voice teacher here really knows me better and cares about me more than any other educator I've had. She kicks me (hard) when I need it, and she comforts me when I need it. I've learned so much from her in the three years I've studied with her (I switched to her from an ineffective teacher after my first year), and my voice is slowly being freed from the airy yet tight cocoon it had nested in until she nurtured it out.

When I was sick my sophomore year and had no way of getting to the store, my voice teacher was the one who brought me a whole bag of get-well goodies from the convenience store (tissues, meds, vitamins, cough drops, Ramen noodles ... you name it).

She put up with me through my struggles in my degree program ... when jumping through the various hoops cost me my sleep and caused me extreme stress, which resulted in the loss of my voice at times. She celebrated victories with me (finally finding the "sweet spot" in my voice, moments when I was fully able to let go and just sing, getting the solo in the Beethoven earlier this semester, etc) ... and I know she cares just as deeply for her students as I care for her.

She told me to stay in touch. I'm hers, and she would love to hear me and work with me whenever I visit the area.

"It's not about the money," she said, "I'm here for the rest of your life. I'm so glad I had you. It's about ..."

"It's that ... you're my teacher." I finished. We embraced, both of us fighting hard to keep tears at bay.

And I know it's not really a goodbye, because I do plan to take her up on her offer to get together (even if just to talk, not necessarily for a lesson) ... but I'm crying now as I write this because I suppose it's really starting to sink in. I won't be here next fall. I really will be off doing other things. I'll be at another school that will be my school, but it won't ever be MySchool, not in the way this place is. I can't believe I won't see these amazing people (who I'm lucky enough to call my friends and teachers!) every day in the music school and on campus. And this area- I won't be able to walk downtown to hear the orchestra and see the opera and the ballet. I probably won't be able to walk to church wherever I am ... and I'm so privileged to sing and worship where I do here.

Everything is going to change. And somehow, getting only three hours of sleep last night and finally finishing the assignments for a class this evening (which became the bane of my existence over the second half of the semester) have made me realize this. Somehow, saying a temporary goodbye to the person who has mentored me most over the past 3 years through this program makes this graduation (and resulting separation) so much more real. And as excited as I am about the future (workshop abroad this summer, GA program at RuralSchool next year) ... I'm also starting to realize how much I am desperately going to miss this until I adjust to the new Normal Life. And it's painful. And sad. And bittersweet. And heart-wrenching, when I consider that I may never see some of these wonderful people again.

Taking a deep breath now. Sniffling. Sighing.

I probably better get some more rest so that I can think clearly on the most intellectually challenging final I'll have this week- tomorrow. I can't allow myself to dwell on this until I've gotten through the chaos which is my final week here.