Feeling: crushed
Listening to: Once soundtrack
Reading/Watching: Frasier season 6... needed a laugh

My first attempt to take a choir to UIL competition is officially over.

We came, we sang, we sightread. I was very proud of them- they tried very hard, kept their composure, and behaved comparatively well, considering they had to run from building to building (without coats on) through freezing rain.

They had other choirs in fancy uniforms staring at their black slacks and polo shirts, they walked into a huge, strange auditorium and had to adapt to the new acoustics and bright lights in .25 seconds, and they rallied after a tuning flub and finished strong. The sightreading was a three-page nightmare, with a bad start that shook their confidence.

They received a 3 (Good) in concert and a 5 (Poor) in sight-reading. The sight-reading score might have been fair, although I think they deserved some credit for keeping hold of the tonic note and returning faithfully to it every time.

The concert rating was cruel. The judges ripped them apart, and half of the comments concerned the fact that they used their music on stage (which is completely legal).

I smiled for the kids and told them how proud I was, fed them soda and pizza (fifteen kids polished off ten pizzas... when it's free food, I think their stomachs get bigger). Shook hands with parents, sent the munchkins off with occasional hugs and told them "You did a great job today. No matter what the judges say, I know how hard you've worked and I know how much you've improved. And next year, we'll come back and kick butt."

Then I got in my car to drive home at 6:15, with the soundtrack from Once playing. "The Hill" came on, and I started that clean, silent sort of crying where the tears roll freely without obscuring vision.

Wish I didn't have to make all those mistakes and be wise
So please try to be patient
You know that I'm still learning
I'm sorry that you have to see the strength inside me burning

Where are you my angel now?
Don't you see me crying?
And I know that you can't do it all
But you can't say I'm not trying.

Because, you know, part of my hope for getting my contract renewed for next year was pinned on bringing home an impressive contest score. Even if I have trouble with discipline issues, at least I'd have proof on paper that I was a good music teacher when the kids deigned to shut up and listen.

Now I have... the phrase "lesser of two evils." Keep the current crappy teacher, or hire a new one and hope they're not as crappy.

Got to my parking lot, pulled into a space, turned off the car, and started that kind of loud, ridiculous crying that you only do when other people aren't listening, or when you're Sean Penn aiming for an Oscar.

I don't want to use the word "heartbreak" because it's such a corny, angular word. Just saying it makes me want to pen an emo poem about the inner darkness of my tortured soul.

No one has left me. I haven't even lost my job yet. I'm not the subject of a country song. But... I am heartbroken. I have broken my heart over me.

And I'm letting myself down...

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