I’ve had good luck with educational outreach programs. A couple of years ago, I responded to a desperate e-mail from an accompanist who was doing a program with L.A. Opera. She was presenting music from Lucia di Lammermoor to a group of schoolteachers. The teachers were having a full day of education about the opera, from the sets, to the costumes, to the orchestra, to the score. She needed someone to sing the Enrico-Lucia duet, and “Regnava nel Silenzio.”
I’d never sung the duet, but I told her I’d do it. I crammed for a week, and on the day of the presentation, my hard work paid off. The teachers were so enthusiastic, and couldn’t wait to take what they’d learned about the opera back into their classrooms.
Last year, a scant four months after giving birth to my daughter, my voice teacher recommended me to the Los Angeles Philharmonic’s educational outreach program. The program was casting the Queen of the Night, who would crash Mozart’s 250th birthday party, singing her famous run for good measure. It was one of the highlights of my career—emerging from the organ loft at Disney Hall and singing portions of “Der Hölle Rache” to the delighted and frightened squeals of a hall full of school children.
When my voice teacher recommended me to the Pasadena Symphony’s educational outreach program, I couldn’t wait to respond and get all the details. This time, however, it was not as easy as breezing in and singing an aria.
I spoke to Jerri Price, who heads the Educational Outreach Department, and her assistant, Amanda Deloera. They were looking for a classical singer to create a 35-minute program and bring it to 11 elementary schools in the Pasadena Public School system. The program couldn’t just be a concert; it had to be interactive. It had to teach children specific things about music and the voice.
The Tempo! Program, as it is called, brings musicians into the schools to perform for first-, second-, and third-graders. In addition, the symphony had hired instructors who were teaching third-graders to play the recorder. The children would have one concert per month. To give an example of the diversity the program features, this year the symphony hired a woodwind quartet, a string quartet, African drums, a flamenco guitarist with a dancer, and a pianist, along with yours truly, to perform for these kids.
I listened intently as the two women explained the program to me. For a moment, I panicked. I had never done something like this before. The more I thought about it, however, the more excited I became. Here was a chance to sing for some kids who had probably never heard a classical soprano before.
My mind started spinning. Which pieces should I sing? Which concepts should I try to incorporate? Should I have a question-and-answer period? What about costumes? Props? I had a lot to work out.
First I secured a good babysitter for my then 14-month-old, who, incidentally, wasn’t thrilled with momma being gone for 10 mornings in a row. Next I compiled a short list of accompanists I wanted to work with. Lisa Sylvester, my first choice, was available! Lisa, I knew, would not just want to play for me—she’d want to help to construct the program, which she did!
Some portions of the program were already set. The kids all had songbooks, and Ms. Price asked that I lead them in at least four songs from it during the concert. This included the Tempo! Theme song, which Ms. Price wrote, plus “I’ve Been Working on the Railroad,” “Michael Row Your Boat Ashore,” and the like.
Lisa and I decided that I’d perform the famous run from “Der Hölle Rache” to illustrate just how high a soprano can sing. We’d then do the second verse of Olympia’s aria, because we could have a kid from the audience come and wind me up. For contrast, I’d sing “O mio babbino caro.” And then I’d end with a piece by Robert Kapilow, the final aria from Green Eggs and Ham, the opera. Yup, you read that right. It’s absolutely delightful.
Lisa has a very busy performing and teaching schedule of her own, so she enlisted the help of another fabulous pianist, Lisa Edwards, to fill in when her schedule wouldn’t allow. Armed with the excellent musical skills of “my two Lisas,” I bravely entered the world of the Pasadena Public School system.
It’s hard to generalize the experiences at each school. At some schools, the kids were so excited that they could hardly contain themselves; they had a hard time staying in their seats and keeping quiet. At others, they displayed impeccable concert manners, watching and listening with wide-eyed wonder.
I have so many wonderful memories of this experience. The little mentally disabled girl who gave me a big hug and thanked me for singing. The thank you notes from one class, in which they asked me to write back with answers to their many questions. (I did.) The little boy who exclaimed, “I want to be a singer just like you!” The little girl who was bundled up in her coat because we were in an unheated auditorium in January, but who clapped hardest and loudest after each piece.
The thank you notes were, by the way, so much fun. My favorite was from a little boy who wrote, “You sing really, really high. When I say that you sing really, really high, I mean it.” I’d love for someone to read that in my press package.
My most treasured memory, however, happened on the final concert. When I led the children in their sing-a-long, one class clearly was more enthusiastic than the others. This group of kids not only sang out lustily, but had cute hand movements to go with each song. After the concert was over, the teacher, Mrs. K., asked if her children could sing for me. She played the piano and they sang a song about Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. This first-grade class sang with huge smiles on their faces, full of joy. It was so obvious to me that they wanted to show me, “Look! We can sing, too! We understand what you’re doing!” As they sang the words to “I Have a Dream,” I found I had tears in my eyes. Mrs. K. told me that she insisted on having a piano in her room, and that her children sang every single day.
If this teacher and these kids are any indication, the future of music is in very good hands.
