论文部分内容阅读
I woke that 1）fateful day immersed in anxiety and misery. How would I survive what lay ahead？ It was 1959， my junior year in college， and I was studying to become a teacher.
I loved it， thrived in the preparations I was making to become a professional educator.
Classes in English， Psychology， Reading Methods and more gave me no problems. What loomed ahead this awful day， however， made me shiver with fear.
No way out. I had to face the music， I told myself， as I dragged my reluctant body from the warm cocoon of blankets. Face the music？ That was exactly what I had to do this morning. My churning stomach meant breakfast would be skipped today. Each tick of the clock brought me closer to disaster.
I donned coat and gloves， wrapped a scarf around my neck and set out on legs that felt heavier with each step. For once， I didn’t 2）relish the walk across campus.Face the music？ I shuddered as that simple phrase skipped through my mind once again. I journeyed slowly to the final exam in my Music for the Elementary School class…an exam with no paper and pencil. I might have done all right with a test like that. Instead， the professor would select any three songs of nine we were to learn. The pieces were not 3）concertos or 4）etudes. These were little children’s songs， like “Mary Had A Little Lamb”.
The professor explained， in the first week of class， that we had to learn three groups of songs in three different keys. To be sure， we had all semester to do this， plenty of time to master them， he assured us. Music Department pianos were available for practice.
“Piece of cake，” the girl next to me said.
“Easy enough，” another 5）chirped as I glared at her.
“6）Cinch class，” yet another said rolling her eyes to Heaven.
I kept my silence， but the worry started right then and there. I had many talents， but music was not one of them. I liked to listen to it. I was able to appreciate it， but I could not learn to tap a triangle at the right time in third grade. I could not sing on key. I could not read the musical notes on a 7）staff. No musical aptitude whatsoever.
I signed up for practice times several days a week all semester. Anyone nearby must have 8）winced at my efforts. Lovely songs tripped off the fingers of other practicing pianists， and the music floated through the hallway.
I asked my roommate for help. After several sessions， she told me it was a hopeless cause and suggested I cry on the professor’s shoulder， plead for mercy or something more 9）drastic. What the more drastic approach might be I feared to ask. I did talk to the professor， poured out my tale of woe. I explained that I was“Musically Handicapped.”
“Have you put some effort into this？”he asked me. “Really put some work into learning to play these little songs on the piano？”
With tears threatening， I assured him I had. His answer was that I would do fine when the time came， and he strode out of the classroom after patting me on the shoulder.
Now， the day of my demise had arrived. I could not have feared 10）execution any more than I did this music exam.
The professor greeted me with a smile， rubbed his hands together and said， “Well now， are we ready？”
I sank onto the bench and attempted to play the three songs he selected. He kindly picked what were probably the three easiest pieces， and I managed to butcher each one.
At the end of my 11）futile performance， the professor beckoned me to his desk. He looked at me， started to speak， then stopped and wiped his hand across his forehead.“Nancy， this is what we are going to do. You’ve put forth a great deal of effort， so I will give you a C in this class on one condition. ”
“Anything，” I answered.
“You must promise me that you will only teach in a school that also employs a music teacher！” He grinned at me after making the statement.
With vast relief I made the promise.
I taught in more than one school district， but I always made sure it was one that had a music teacher. I watched with great admiration as music class was conducted， as songs were played on the piano the teacher rolled from classroom to classroom twice each week. What a genius she is I thought， as her fingers flew across the keys.
To this day， the only musical thing I play is a CD player or radio. After all， a promise is meant to be honored.
我在充满焦虑和苦痛的情绪中醒来，那是改变我命运的一天。我要怎样熬过眼前的这一关？那是1959年，我还在读大学三年级，为成为一名教师而刻苦攻读。
我喜欢教书，努力准备着要成为一名专业的教育工作者。
英语、心理学、阅读方法以及其他的课程对我都不成问题。在这糟糕的一天，我即将面对的事情，却让我害怕得浑身颤抖。
无路可走了。当我不情愿地把身体从暖和的毛毯中拖出时，我对自己说我必须面对现实。直面现实？那正是今天早上我不得不做的事情。我的胃部在剧烈地翻腾着，那意味着今天我吃不下早餐了。时钟跳动的每一秒都把我往灾难推近一步。
我穿上大衣，戴上手套，在脖子上裹了一条围巾，踏着越来越沉重的步伐出发了。仅此一次，我并不享受在校园里漫步。直面现实？那简单几字再次跳进我脑海时，我不禁哆嗦了一下。我迈着沉重的步伐走向最后一门考试——小学音乐课……这是一门不需要纸和笔的考试。也许要做题的考试我还能考得好一些。在这门考试里，教授会从我们需要学习的九首曲目中任意挑选三首。这些曲目既不是协奏曲，也不是练习曲。这些都是儿歌，比如《玛丽有只小羊羔》。
课程的第一周，教授解释说我们需要学习三组不同音调的三种曲目。可以肯定的是，我们有一个学期的学习时间，有很多时间去掌握，他向我们保证道。音乐系的钢琴可以给我们用来练习。
“小菜一碟，”我身旁的女孩说。 “挺容易的，”我盯着另一个女孩时，她尖声地说。
“小儿科，”另一个女孩边说边转动眼睛望向天空。
我缄默不语，彼时彼地我忧心萌发。我有很多天赋，可音乐并非其中之一。我喜欢听音乐。我也懂得欣赏音乐，可是到我读三年级时我还学不会跟着节奏敲三角环。我唱歌总跑调。我不会看五线谱上的音符。毫无音乐天资可言。
那一个学期，我每周都报名参加几次练习课。周围的人看见了我的努力想必都敬畏有加。美妙的曲子从来练习的其他钢琴好手指间跃然而出，音乐在走廊里飘扬。
我向舍友寻求帮助。几次练习之后，她说我这是在做无用功，建议我向教授哭诉，请求他大发慈悲或提出其他更激烈的诉求。我都不敢问舍友她所谓的“更激烈的诉求”是什么。
我确实有跟教授谈过，倾诉我的悲惨故事。我解释自己有“音乐残障”。
“你有为此而努力过吗？”他问我。“你真的花过心思去学习用钢琴弹奏这些小曲目吗？”
我噙着眼泪，向他保证我真的有刻苦练习。他的回答是，到时就会好的，他拍了拍我的肩膀然后走出了课室。
现在，我的末日到了。面对这次音乐考核，我的恐惧感就跟要面对被处决那般严重。
教授向我微笑，摩挲着双手，对我说：“好了，我们都准备好了吗？”
我沉沉地坐到凳子上，试图弹奏出他为我挑选的三首曲子。他好意挑选了三首也许是最简单的歌，而我则每首都弹得体无完肤。
在我即将完成这徒劳的表演时，教授唤我走向他的办公桌。他看着我，欲言又止，然后用手抹了抹额头。“南希，我们这样吧，你付出了很大的努力，因此这一科我会给你 ‘合格’，但你需要答应我一件事。”
“任何事都可以，”我回答说。
“你必须向我承诺，你将来只会在一所雇了音乐老师的学校里教书！”说完之后，他咧着嘴对我笑起来。
我如释重负，许下诺言。
我在不止一个学区里教过书，但是我总会确保那所学校聘请了音乐老师。我带着崇高的敬意看着音乐课的教学，看着老师用钢琴弹奏着曲子，一周两次地从这间教室走到另一间教室去上课。当她的手指在琴键上游动时，我想，她真是一个天才。
直到今天，我能操作的唯一乐器是光盘播放机或者收音机。毕竟，许下的承诺是该得到尊重的。
I loved it， thrived in the preparations I was making to become a professional educator.
Classes in English， Psychology， Reading Methods and more gave me no problems. What loomed ahead this awful day， however， made me shiver with fear.
No way out. I had to face the music， I told myself， as I dragged my reluctant body from the warm cocoon of blankets. Face the music？ That was exactly what I had to do this morning. My churning stomach meant breakfast would be skipped today. Each tick of the clock brought me closer to disaster.
I donned coat and gloves， wrapped a scarf around my neck and set out on legs that felt heavier with each step. For once， I didn’t 2）relish the walk across campus.Face the music？ I shuddered as that simple phrase skipped through my mind once again. I journeyed slowly to the final exam in my Music for the Elementary School class…an exam with no paper and pencil. I might have done all right with a test like that. Instead， the professor would select any three songs of nine we were to learn. The pieces were not 3）concertos or 4）etudes. These were little children’s songs， like “Mary Had A Little Lamb”.
The professor explained， in the first week of class， that we had to learn three groups of songs in three different keys. To be sure， we had all semester to do this， plenty of time to master them， he assured us. Music Department pianos were available for practice.
“Piece of cake，” the girl next to me said.
“Easy enough，” another 5）chirped as I glared at her.
“6）Cinch class，” yet another said rolling her eyes to Heaven.
I kept my silence， but the worry started right then and there. I had many talents， but music was not one of them. I liked to listen to it. I was able to appreciate it， but I could not learn to tap a triangle at the right time in third grade. I could not sing on key. I could not read the musical notes on a 7）staff. No musical aptitude whatsoever.
I signed up for practice times several days a week all semester. Anyone nearby must have 8）winced at my efforts. Lovely songs tripped off the fingers of other practicing pianists， and the music floated through the hallway.
I asked my roommate for help. After several sessions， she told me it was a hopeless cause and suggested I cry on the professor’s shoulder， plead for mercy or something more 9）drastic. What the more drastic approach might be I feared to ask. I did talk to the professor， poured out my tale of woe. I explained that I was“Musically Handicapped.”
“Have you put some effort into this？”he asked me. “Really put some work into learning to play these little songs on the piano？”
With tears threatening， I assured him I had. His answer was that I would do fine when the time came， and he strode out of the classroom after patting me on the shoulder.
Now， the day of my demise had arrived. I could not have feared 10）execution any more than I did this music exam.
The professor greeted me with a smile， rubbed his hands together and said， “Well now， are we ready？”
I sank onto the bench and attempted to play the three songs he selected. He kindly picked what were probably the three easiest pieces， and I managed to butcher each one.
At the end of my 11）futile performance， the professor beckoned me to his desk. He looked at me， started to speak， then stopped and wiped his hand across his forehead.“Nancy， this is what we are going to do. You’ve put forth a great deal of effort， so I will give you a C in this class on one condition. ”
“Anything，” I answered.
“You must promise me that you will only teach in a school that also employs a music teacher！” He grinned at me after making the statement.
With vast relief I made the promise.
I taught in more than one school district， but I always made sure it was one that had a music teacher. I watched with great admiration as music class was conducted， as songs were played on the piano the teacher rolled from classroom to classroom twice each week. What a genius she is I thought， as her fingers flew across the keys.
To this day， the only musical thing I play is a CD player or radio. After all， a promise is meant to be honored.
我在充满焦虑和苦痛的情绪中醒来，那是改变我命运的一天。我要怎样熬过眼前的这一关？那是1959年，我还在读大学三年级，为成为一名教师而刻苦攻读。
我喜欢教书，努力准备着要成为一名专业的教育工作者。
英语、心理学、阅读方法以及其他的课程对我都不成问题。在这糟糕的一天，我即将面对的事情，却让我害怕得浑身颤抖。
无路可走了。当我不情愿地把身体从暖和的毛毯中拖出时，我对自己说我必须面对现实。直面现实？那正是今天早上我不得不做的事情。我的胃部在剧烈地翻腾着，那意味着今天我吃不下早餐了。时钟跳动的每一秒都把我往灾难推近一步。
我穿上大衣，戴上手套，在脖子上裹了一条围巾，踏着越来越沉重的步伐出发了。仅此一次，我并不享受在校园里漫步。直面现实？那简单几字再次跳进我脑海时，我不禁哆嗦了一下。我迈着沉重的步伐走向最后一门考试——小学音乐课……这是一门不需要纸和笔的考试。也许要做题的考试我还能考得好一些。在这门考试里，教授会从我们需要学习的九首曲目中任意挑选三首。这些曲目既不是协奏曲，也不是练习曲。这些都是儿歌，比如《玛丽有只小羊羔》。
课程的第一周，教授解释说我们需要学习三组不同音调的三种曲目。可以肯定的是，我们有一个学期的学习时间，有很多时间去掌握，他向我们保证道。音乐系的钢琴可以给我们用来练习。
“小菜一碟，”我身旁的女孩说。 “挺容易的，”我盯着另一个女孩时，她尖声地说。
“小儿科，”另一个女孩边说边转动眼睛望向天空。
我缄默不语，彼时彼地我忧心萌发。我有很多天赋，可音乐并非其中之一。我喜欢听音乐。我也懂得欣赏音乐，可是到我读三年级时我还学不会跟着节奏敲三角环。我唱歌总跑调。我不会看五线谱上的音符。毫无音乐天资可言。
那一个学期，我每周都报名参加几次练习课。周围的人看见了我的努力想必都敬畏有加。美妙的曲子从来练习的其他钢琴好手指间跃然而出，音乐在走廊里飘扬。
我向舍友寻求帮助。几次练习之后，她说我这是在做无用功，建议我向教授哭诉，请求他大发慈悲或提出其他更激烈的诉求。我都不敢问舍友她所谓的“更激烈的诉求”是什么。
我确实有跟教授谈过，倾诉我的悲惨故事。我解释自己有“音乐残障”。
“你有为此而努力过吗？”他问我。“你真的花过心思去学习用钢琴弹奏这些小曲目吗？”
我噙着眼泪，向他保证我真的有刻苦练习。他的回答是，到时就会好的，他拍了拍我的肩膀然后走出了课室。
现在，我的末日到了。面对这次音乐考核，我的恐惧感就跟要面对被处决那般严重。
教授向我微笑，摩挲着双手，对我说：“好了，我们都准备好了吗？”
我沉沉地坐到凳子上，试图弹奏出他为我挑选的三首曲子。他好意挑选了三首也许是最简单的歌，而我则每首都弹得体无完肤。
在我即将完成这徒劳的表演时，教授唤我走向他的办公桌。他看着我，欲言又止，然后用手抹了抹额头。“南希，我们这样吧，你付出了很大的努力，因此这一科我会给你 ‘合格’，但你需要答应我一件事。”
“任何事都可以，”我回答说。
“你必须向我承诺，你将来只会在一所雇了音乐老师的学校里教书！”说完之后，他咧着嘴对我笑起来。
我如释重负，许下诺言。
我在不止一个学区里教过书，但是我总会确保那所学校聘请了音乐老师。我带着崇高的敬意看着音乐课的教学，看着老师用钢琴弹奏着曲子，一周两次地从这间教室走到另一间教室去上课。当她的手指在琴键上游动时，我想，她真是一个天才。
直到今天，我能操作的唯一乐器是光盘播放机或者收音机。毕竟，许下的承诺是该得到尊重的。