Description:For COW #3: Labels (on photo), Stickers (Letters and horn), and Brads (gold stars) + optional sketch (Modified to fit huge journalling).
Journalling is ridiculously braggy, fair warning:
Tonight was my daughter's District band concert. District Band is a highly selective, audition-only ensemble for high school students in our area. Kai auditioned last year and just missed getting in. She's terribly shy, and the audition process is downright painful for her. But this year she started working on the pieces months and months ago. She auditioned (through great stress) in December and got in. The vast majority of the band are juniors and seniors - she's a young sophmore - barely 15.
Anyway, she had to be hosted for the festival, so I haven't seen her since Wednesday. I was really excited to see the concert tonight, and expected it to be good, from the intermediate district concerts in middle school.
What I didn't expect was for it to be completely amazing. Honestly, if you didn't look at the kids on the stage, you would have thought you were at a professional concert. And they've only practiced together for two days. I think my jaw about hit the floor when they started playing. My daughter refuses to practice in front of me because I make her nervous. (I am honest with her when a piece needs work, and she is easily upset by criticism.) She practices 2-3 hours daily at school, and then at home when I'm still at work. So I had no idea, and I mean absolutely no idea, that she could play at that level. None. Sure, her tutor and her director are always saying she's talented, but I was completely floored by tonight's concert.
So after the show, my highly composed and poised little girl (looking oh-so-grown-up) comes across the lobby to me. She's wearing her uniform, with all the ribbons from her ensembles and a brand new medallion for district band - looking completely professional. At least, until she slams into me like a steam engine, holds on for dear life and starts sobbing like a baby. She can hardly get her breath for crying.
I was flabbergasted. I hugged the heck out of her, told her honestly how completely amazing she was, and eventually got her out into the cool night air where she started to get her breath. She finally managed to choke out, "Way back in fourth grade... I picked french horn..." and then dissolved in tears again.
But fortunately I knew what she meant. In fourth grade, Kai picked her instrument because one of the seniors played the theme from Star Wars at the band assembly. After they finished all the serious overtures and marches and preludes, the District band played an amazing arrangement of the songs from Star Wars. She was crying because she had finally done what she set out to do. (Well, and also probably because her lips were actually bleeding. It was after 9PM, and she'd been playing since 7AM.)
I am so proud of this amazing musician I get to call my daughter!