I know now that one of the things they are known for is their teacher training programs for those of us intrepid enough to take up teaching art and music.
I didn’t know that when I was 16.
What I knew, sitting in that small practice room at Eastern with my scholarship evaluator, was that I was determined to get out of my hometown and away from my family.
I knew that I could play —
“I don’t know about the techical aspect of things,” my mother reminisced to me this summer. “But girl, you hit those keys with emotion.”
— and I thought at the time that playing would – possibly, perhaps – be a way to accomplish that.
I did not think anything would come of this particular excursion except, perhaps, a chance to see what someone else thought of my abilities. (And to take that knowledge to better myself.)
So when the evaluator finished her notes, I expected her to hand them to me and off I would go.
Instead, I was handed an offer.
“We would love to have you in our program here when you graduate [from high school]. You may consider this your audition,” she said.
At my stunned ” . . . ” she smiled and elaborated with: You’re in.
I’d always known there would be forks in my life’s road. I had already, by the time I reached 16, been subject to multiple hairpin turns and more than one {avoidable} fiery car crash due to the ineptitude of those at the wheel.
But now, for the first time, I saw a potential route I hadn’t previously known existed.
Looking back now, I think…
How appropriate that Ypsilanti starts with Y.
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