(the title comes from the young son of a friend of mine – I knew what he meant!)
[this is a version of a post which first appeared on my blog From the Front of the Choir]
Like many teachers, I often catch colds during the autumn term.
Singers flock from all over and gather in a warm, humid room to share their germs. No wonder we get sick!
I’ve been very lucky in my vocal career and have never cancelled a workshop or rehearsal due to a cold, nor have I ever lost my voice.
Until a couple of years ago that is.
Yes, yes, I know I shouldn’t have done it, but just after I caught a cold I ran a one-day singing workshop for men. Since I teach by ear it meant singing very high and very low for most of the day. I managed it, but by the time I had got home I had lost my voice completely.
It was a very strange feeling as I had never experienced it before. Reduced to a literal whisper I found my sense of self and my feelings of confidence seemed to disappear.
We all have a very personal relationship with our voice, and in many ways it is a reflection of our innermost self (I found this when asking university students to improvise: they could improvise dance and movement with no problem, but as soon as it came to voice they became very shy and self-conscious as if they were frightened of revealing too much about themselves).
When it came to choir that week, I still had quite a chestykoff, even though I had got some of my voice back. With an hour’s drive ahead of me (and 60mph winds on the motorway!) I found it very hard to decide whether to cancel the session. This brought up two issues for me:
If we break our leg, or are confined to a hospital bed, or are simply too ill to leave the house and drive, then the answer is fairly straightforward: cancel.
But what of those times when we’re “under the weather”, or have a cold, or a tummy upset? Then the dividing line is not so evident, especially since we know we won’t get paid if we don’t turn up.
We could drag ourselves out of bed for one session, only for this to precipitate a relapse or delay our recovery and we may end up having to cancel more than one session.
Also we may well pass our germs onto other people (remember this you singers out there when you come to choir with a cold!). See also Taking care of ourselves as choir and workshop leaders and What I did on my summer holiday — why we all need a break sometime.
On that particular choir day, I decided to go. I promised myself to take the session very gently and not to stay for a drink afterwards.
Although I could perhaps have called on someone in the choir to say which songs I wanted them to go over, and give out the starting notes, I don’t have an assistant or stand-in to rely on. (Note to self: make sure you have back-up!)
Having decided to run the session, I wondered how much I could do without using my voice.
I made a sign which read “I have lost my voice!” and showed it to everyone just before we began. Then I used gestures and invited people to copy me for the warm-up session.
After that, I simply beckoned people to come very close each time we started a song, and then I spoke very quietly to those nearby, expecting the instructions to be relayed outwards from there.
We went over some old songs for which I blew the starting notes on my chromatic pitch pipes. I also re-taught some songs which a lot of newer people didn’t know by singing very, very gently to remind those who already knew the song, and then got them to ‘teach’ the others.
All in all, it was a successful evening and I covered everything that I wanted to.
Talking was kept to a minimum (often I have to shout to make myself heard!) and I found myself moving around very slowly and gently, giving the whole thing a dream-like quality. See also No energy? Sing different, sing better!
I would be very interested to hear how other freelancers deal with illness, and also if any of you have taught without using your voice.
Chris Rowbury: chrisrowbury.com
