McQuade1

Amanda McQuade
Mr. King
English I
2/17/2016
A songbird sings to the world
Music, even in situations of the greatest horror should never be painful to the ear, but should
flatter and charm it, and thereby always remain music. -Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Now why
would an eleven-year old girl listen to the words of a 18th century Austrian composer? I, a girl
who had a love for classical music, was playing my own instrument. I had played for one year
and I loved what I was doing. I, for the upcoming 2011 spring school talent show, then thought,
Why not create a score myself? So with much careful thought, I spent hours at practice with
my teacher, Mrs. Gonzales, a very important inspiration,who had been my conductor and my
favourite teacher, coming up with a composition to play for everyone. But I was only like a
young bird, copying voices of others.

My hands were ink and graphite fluid. Across the flute it was simple. Match my fingers to the
page, blow into it, and make it sing. But during the car ride there, my hands clenched into fists
and sweat rolled off my forehead. Never before had I been nervous about performing, yet I was
shaking more than the last of the autumn leaves before a winter storm. I was ready to sing my
own song. Tchaikovsky, Chopin, Beethoven, and even Falco were watching me. As I stepped
onto the stage, everyone was waiting, watching me with anticipating eyes. Raising the flute to
my chin, the metal chilled my lip causing a whisper of negative energy to engulf me. My heart
felt as if it would burst. Breathing deeply, I started. My fingers danced to the flutes voice. My
ears twitched with anxiety as I hit every note, eyes hungry, scanning the ratted up paper, covered

McQuade2

in crescendos and grace notes. Sounds of the end of the piece and it hit me, and I became
nervous as the notes hit the back of the auditorium. In an instant, the voices were all cheering at
once. When I lowered the musical instrument from my chin, I bowed from my spot, and my
brown doe eyes locked with the watery, gray eyes of my teacher. I had spread my musical
wings and my heart began to soar.

Had Mozart felt the same when he wrote? I asked with a small smile on my face. I realized
something deep within myself that day. I had long loved music, but tonight it was something that
I had never felt before. That scrap piece of coffee-saturated paper was my own musical creation
and contribution. My blood was pulsing. My heart was about to explode into pieces of fragile
glass. My mind was screaming at me to realize a dream of mine is to compose. I felt complete
playing something that was my own. Music is something to be played for the enjoyment of both
the person playing, and the audience in front of them. As my father and mother were
congratulating me, they would never know my pride at that moment. It was almost as sweet as
the ice cream I received as a reward for my bravery that day. It cooled my senses, and the taste
of refreshing mint and melting chocolate calmed me intensely. It gave me that same feeling I
got from being on the stage, playing my heart to the world. At home, I began working on my
second movement right away. To this day, I still write my own music, yet I keep them locked
away for myself, only to be shown to those I trust with my heart.

Fear can easily manipulate a heart, like a musical arrangement. The heart can dominate the fear,
if it can be calmed. It takes time to do these things, and It takes time for me to be comfortable

McQuade3

on a stage by myself. I still have not gotten over stage fright, but this experience has also taught
me to be true to myself, and be inspired by others. It was exhilarating to be writing my own piece
for the first time, but all the more terrifying to share. This was something I had never done
before. I had always played other composers works, but never had the world been able to hear
something of my own.