((yay! Thanks to all the chaps who reviewed!))
"Mom! Mom, lookit! You have to see this!" I cried, running through the door to my house. My mom was sitting at the table, doing her stuff for work. I slammed the door shut and ran into the kitchen, seeing my mom bent over a work schedule. "Mom, guess what!" I exclaimed, plopping down in the seat next to her.
Mom turned, raising an eyebrow at me. "I can't guess. What?"
Grinning, I put the permission form in front of her. "I get to play an instrument!" I said happily. "'Member when I told you I was gonna play the clarinet? And you signed for it?"
"Yes. . .?"
"Well, I'm not gonna play the clarinet." I told her with a grin.
She set down the schedule. "You're not? Then what ~are~ you going to play?"
With a proud grin I replied, "The oboe!"
Unfortunatlely, my mom had no idea what that was. She knew the clarinet and was glad I was going to play an instrument (and was expecting it to be that one), but when I told her I was going to learn the oboe, all I got was a rather blank stare and my mom saying, "The what?"
It took me awhile to explain myself. I told her everything, how the last clarinet was taken, and instead of me playing nothing the band director suggested I take up the oboe. My mom still had no idea what it was, but nevertheless she signed the permission form and promised me that she would take me to get the supplies Mrs. B said I'd need.
Indeed we did that. We went to the local music shop and I got the lesson book, the reeds (They didn't look ~anything~ like two clarinet reeds! There was a cork thing, some string, and then two funny-looking pieces of wood sticking out from the top. They looked weird!) and the cork grease. Mom also signed the permission form. And then two days later I came to school proudly carrying this bag of stuff--ready for my first lesson.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
BEEP! "Hello?" Said my teacher exasperately. We were in the middle of a lesson and she really didn't like to be interrupted. "Fine." With a sigh, she hung up and turned to me. "Kathryn, Mrs. B wants you for lessons."
LESSONS!
"I'll get my work later." I said obediently to my teacher. I grabbed the bag of stuff (which was sitting on my desk all morning) and then ran quickly out of the room. I grinned at all the other people who were in the hallways for whatever reason, and walked up to the band room.
Mrs. B was walking around the band room setting up chairs when she saw me come in. "Oh, hello there." She said with a smile. "That was fast."
"Yeah." I agreed.
"Sit down, and we can get started." She beckoned for me to sit down in a chair close to the front, and then she sat next to me. "Let's see what you got." She pulled the items slowly out of my bag and put them on yet another chair. "Lesson book. . .good. We'll start on that today. Reeds. . .good, you got three. You'll be needing them. Cork grease. . .good. Fabulous." She smiled amiably at me. I gave her the permisson slip. "Great!" Mrs. B, I learned, was a very outgoing music teacher. "Now let me give you your oboe and show you a little bit with it."
She went to the same cabinet as before and took the oboe out of it, then walked over to me and set it down. "Now, the first thing I shall show you is how to put it together, hold it, and how to put the reed in." She showed me exactly those things. After I tried it a few times myself, she declared that I was ready to learn a few notes.
I stuck the reed in my mouth and held it in place. "This first note is a B." She said, putting my pointer finger down on a key. "Now, play!"
I blew through the reed into the instrument. It made a weird honking noise, and I jumped. Mrs. B laughed. "You got it! That's it!" She said. I took the reed out and grinned. I was learning! "Now, this is an A." She put another finger down and I honked out an A. The last note she taught me that day was a G. By the end of the lesson, I was able to. . .play three notes!
Grinning in triumph, I honked out those three notes in different combinations for the rest of my lesson. She taught me some music, how to read it, and the basic few notes and how many beats they are. By the end of the lesson, I was well on my way to becoming a real oboe player! And I. . . loved it. This was a fabulous instrument! I thought as I bounced happily out of the tiny band room, clutching my new rental oboe with the three reeds inside. I came into my classroom still smiling--I loved this instrument!!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The first thing I got home was take out that new oboe and continue honking those three notes I learned today in lessons. I played them until I figured I had them perfectly, and then. . . a song came to mind. One of the very simple songs we learned on our flutophones was one called "Twighlight Snowfall" ((a/n: and gosh darn it, would you believe I still remember some of it today?)), and the notes for it. . . were the same three notes I learned today! And being as we only learned it on the recorder last year, the rest of the notes were fresh in my mind.
So I took my oboe and took the music I committed to memory, and played it. Those three notes actually took the form of one of my old songs. . . that I still knew! I did nothing but play that song (and anything else I could) until my mom came home, looking quizzical.
"Hi mom!" I said happily, looking over the oboe at her.
"Is that. . . an oboe?" She asked increduously.
"Yeah!" I replied with a grin. "See, lookit! It's got lots of keys and stuff." I handed the oboe to my mom, who looked at it skeptically. After all, she hadn't ever heard of that instrument since I told her about it. . . like three days ago.
"Interesting," She said. "So how was your first lesson today?"
"LESSONS!" I burst out. "They were great! I learned three notes. . . listen!" I snatched the oboe back from my mom and played those three notes. Now, back then I sounded truly like a duck, and I have no idea how my mom put up with it. But she smiled and said, "Oh, that sounds nice."
"And I can play a song!" I added. "Listen!" Then I proceeded to play "Twighlight Snowfall."
At that, my mom looked mildly impressed. "You can play a song already?" She asked.
"It's not that hard," I told her. "It's a really easy song. And next week I have lessons again and I'm going to learn more notes and more songs! And soon I'll be the greatest oboe player in all the world!" I said enthusiastically.
"Now, let's not get ahead of ourselves." My mom said with amusement. "One step at a time, right?"
I nodded. "Right."
With a final grin, I took the reed and yanked it out of the oboe. I yanked it out a bit too hard. . . my finger slipped up the string into the wood, which broke with a CRACK! Thus became my first broken reed. . . the first of many. Luckily my mom didn't see that (she went in the kitchen), so I took the now-broken reed and stuffed it in my case with the rest of my new oboe. Oh well, I still had two left, right? (see how naive I was).
But nevertheless, right NOW it didn't matter. So let the reeds break, I guess that's what they'll do ((a/n: That's exactly what they'll do. . . that, and not work when you have very important concerts that night)). I took my oboe and went into my room smiling.
Yep. . . all those clarinet players could play all they wanted, because I was an oboist!
((glad y'all liked the first chapter. I'll keep writing if you want more))
"Mom! Mom, lookit! You have to see this!" I cried, running through the door to my house. My mom was sitting at the table, doing her stuff for work. I slammed the door shut and ran into the kitchen, seeing my mom bent over a work schedule. "Mom, guess what!" I exclaimed, plopping down in the seat next to her.
Mom turned, raising an eyebrow at me. "I can't guess. What?"
Grinning, I put the permission form in front of her. "I get to play an instrument!" I said happily. "'Member when I told you I was gonna play the clarinet? And you signed for it?"
"Yes. . .?"
"Well, I'm not gonna play the clarinet." I told her with a grin.
She set down the schedule. "You're not? Then what ~are~ you going to play?"
With a proud grin I replied, "The oboe!"
Unfortunatlely, my mom had no idea what that was. She knew the clarinet and was glad I was going to play an instrument (and was expecting it to be that one), but when I told her I was going to learn the oboe, all I got was a rather blank stare and my mom saying, "The what?"
It took me awhile to explain myself. I told her everything, how the last clarinet was taken, and instead of me playing nothing the band director suggested I take up the oboe. My mom still had no idea what it was, but nevertheless she signed the permission form and promised me that she would take me to get the supplies Mrs. B said I'd need.
Indeed we did that. We went to the local music shop and I got the lesson book, the reeds (They didn't look ~anything~ like two clarinet reeds! There was a cork thing, some string, and then two funny-looking pieces of wood sticking out from the top. They looked weird!) and the cork grease. Mom also signed the permission form. And then two days later I came to school proudly carrying this bag of stuff--ready for my first lesson.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
BEEP! "Hello?" Said my teacher exasperately. We were in the middle of a lesson and she really didn't like to be interrupted. "Fine." With a sigh, she hung up and turned to me. "Kathryn, Mrs. B wants you for lessons."
LESSONS!
"I'll get my work later." I said obediently to my teacher. I grabbed the bag of stuff (which was sitting on my desk all morning) and then ran quickly out of the room. I grinned at all the other people who were in the hallways for whatever reason, and walked up to the band room.
Mrs. B was walking around the band room setting up chairs when she saw me come in. "Oh, hello there." She said with a smile. "That was fast."
"Yeah." I agreed.
"Sit down, and we can get started." She beckoned for me to sit down in a chair close to the front, and then she sat next to me. "Let's see what you got." She pulled the items slowly out of my bag and put them on yet another chair. "Lesson book. . .good. We'll start on that today. Reeds. . .good, you got three. You'll be needing them. Cork grease. . .good. Fabulous." She smiled amiably at me. I gave her the permisson slip. "Great!" Mrs. B, I learned, was a very outgoing music teacher. "Now let me give you your oboe and show you a little bit with it."
She went to the same cabinet as before and took the oboe out of it, then walked over to me and set it down. "Now, the first thing I shall show you is how to put it together, hold it, and how to put the reed in." She showed me exactly those things. After I tried it a few times myself, she declared that I was ready to learn a few notes.
I stuck the reed in my mouth and held it in place. "This first note is a B." She said, putting my pointer finger down on a key. "Now, play!"
I blew through the reed into the instrument. It made a weird honking noise, and I jumped. Mrs. B laughed. "You got it! That's it!" She said. I took the reed out and grinned. I was learning! "Now, this is an A." She put another finger down and I honked out an A. The last note she taught me that day was a G. By the end of the lesson, I was able to. . .play three notes!
Grinning in triumph, I honked out those three notes in different combinations for the rest of my lesson. She taught me some music, how to read it, and the basic few notes and how many beats they are. By the end of the lesson, I was well on my way to becoming a real oboe player! And I. . . loved it. This was a fabulous instrument! I thought as I bounced happily out of the tiny band room, clutching my new rental oboe with the three reeds inside. I came into my classroom still smiling--I loved this instrument!!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The first thing I got home was take out that new oboe and continue honking those three notes I learned today in lessons. I played them until I figured I had them perfectly, and then. . . a song came to mind. One of the very simple songs we learned on our flutophones was one called "Twighlight Snowfall" ((a/n: and gosh darn it, would you believe I still remember some of it today?)), and the notes for it. . . were the same three notes I learned today! And being as we only learned it on the recorder last year, the rest of the notes were fresh in my mind.
So I took my oboe and took the music I committed to memory, and played it. Those three notes actually took the form of one of my old songs. . . that I still knew! I did nothing but play that song (and anything else I could) until my mom came home, looking quizzical.
"Hi mom!" I said happily, looking over the oboe at her.
"Is that. . . an oboe?" She asked increduously.
"Yeah!" I replied with a grin. "See, lookit! It's got lots of keys and stuff." I handed the oboe to my mom, who looked at it skeptically. After all, she hadn't ever heard of that instrument since I told her about it. . . like three days ago.
"Interesting," She said. "So how was your first lesson today?"
"LESSONS!" I burst out. "They were great! I learned three notes. . . listen!" I snatched the oboe back from my mom and played those three notes. Now, back then I sounded truly like a duck, and I have no idea how my mom put up with it. But she smiled and said, "Oh, that sounds nice."
"And I can play a song!" I added. "Listen!" Then I proceeded to play "Twighlight Snowfall."
At that, my mom looked mildly impressed. "You can play a song already?" She asked.
"It's not that hard," I told her. "It's a really easy song. And next week I have lessons again and I'm going to learn more notes and more songs! And soon I'll be the greatest oboe player in all the world!" I said enthusiastically.
"Now, let's not get ahead of ourselves." My mom said with amusement. "One step at a time, right?"
I nodded. "Right."
With a final grin, I took the reed and yanked it out of the oboe. I yanked it out a bit too hard. . . my finger slipped up the string into the wood, which broke with a CRACK! Thus became my first broken reed. . . the first of many. Luckily my mom didn't see that (she went in the kitchen), so I took the now-broken reed and stuffed it in my case with the rest of my new oboe. Oh well, I still had two left, right? (see how naive I was).
But nevertheless, right NOW it didn't matter. So let the reeds break, I guess that's what they'll do ((a/n: That's exactly what they'll do. . . that, and not work when you have very important concerts that night)). I took my oboe and went into my room smiling.
Yep. . . all those clarinet players could play all they wanted, because I was an oboist!
((glad y'all liked the first chapter. I'll keep writing if you want more))
