[Student Voices] Give It a Chance
Published: 19 Aug. 2024, 09:17
Haeun Chloe Chae (Chadwick International, Grade 6)
by Haeun Chloe Chae (Chadwick International, Grade 6)
I was in math class when my computer lit up with a message from the director of our school musical. It read, “Congratulations! You have been chosen to portray the lead role in this year’s musical.” I was shocked. The musical would be performed in front of more than 700 people. For the next six months, I’d be practicing five hours weekly in addition to Saturday boot camps. How could something so extraordinary happen to me? Then the joyous wave hit. It would be my voice they would hear. My face they would see.
After I had been in the cast about a month, there was a problem. My voice had become hoarse and it wasn’t getting better. I needed a check-up. I entered the doctor’s office and took a seat. The doctor put this weird thing down my throat. As I waited for the results, the air itself seemed tense. Finally, the doctor started talking. “You have vocal cord nodules,” he informed me. “Vocal cord nodules are growths that make the voice come out raspy and hoarse. When professional actors or singers get this, they stop performing.”
How was this happening? I was the main character. I had lines. I had solos. I had an audience waiting for me. If I messed up, I would be messing the whole show up.
The world seemed to stop spinning. Would I have to quit the musical? I kept thinking about how my performance would affect everyone else. The cast and crew contained nearly 200 people. They were all depending on me. Was it selfish to continue? Or would it be more selfish to quit and leave them without a main character? I took a deep breath and looked deep down in my heart. When I did, I knew that I had to give it my best try.
As the months went by, I made every effort to protect my voice in its vulnerable state. And part of that was not rehearsing my lines or practicing my songs too much, because this could harm my voice even more. However, that came with a risk. When the show came, I might not be ready.
At last, the big night arrived. Backstage, as I inhaled and exhaled, fear and panic took over my mind. I prayed for the show to go well. And then it was time. The lights flashed on. The fog machine activated. The music began to play. I could feel the rush of adrenaline coursing through me as I walked into the light, into the view of hundreds of people. But as I started speaking and singing, my fear and panic disappeared. This was my time on stage, and I had put so much effort into it. I thought: Why don’t I just enjoy it? At the end, the audience clapped and cheered. I had given my best and so had everyone else, and that itself was enough for me; and it seems, for the audience as well.
It has been over a month since the performance took place. Now that it’s over, I’ve started to wonder what would have occurred if I had given up. I wouldn’t have experienced the magnificence of the stage. I wouldn’t have been able to help my friends and classmates create something that made people happy. And now that I’ve had time to think about it, I’ve realized that even if you think something may not work out, if it feels like the right thing to do—deep down in your heart—you should always give it a chance.
with the Korea JoongAng Daily
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