My singing teacher is a clever lady, and she knows it, but I'm inclined to say she doesn't realize quite how much.
My singing teacher tapes our lessons, so that I can go over them and remember her pointers, and so that I have recordings of what I need to go over and over and over for homework.
My singing teacher realizes that these recordings mean that I'll be hearing myself belt out, as hard as I can, pieces that I have far from mastered.
So when I do belt them out during class, my vibrato occasionally kicking in, sometimes making passable use of my epiglottis, sometimes forgetting it entirely while focussing on getting all the notes in, she makes sure she says a thousand positive things afterwards, on tape.
She says things like "you're using your diaphragm more, that's very good, I have a hard time getting some of my students to do that." She also says " you don't need to use a portmendo there, but it's interesting that you're trying."
A what?
"Portmendo". I had no idea what it was, but apparently I can do one.
She says things like "you have a lot of strength in your voice, a lot of power -- you're doing things I have a hard time getting students that I've had for years do".
She says things like that often, and I know that she's doing it intentionally, and I know why I have an easier time roaring than most people -- the lack of shame factor is huge, here, but...
Each one of her words make an immense difference.
And when she says "that piece is coming along wonderfully", I know all along that I still sound painfully shrill, that I'll be listening to the tape in the car minutes from now and cringeing with every muscle, and yet I can't help but glow.
I've got almost all the notes right in Voi Che Sapete. I sing this opening flat, and that one I let go too high in my enthusiasm, I melt a few syllables like "E I un Momento" together when my stomach gets lazy and doesn't want to churn them out as distinctly as I should.
And overall, it still sounds terribly shrill, and isn't even a soprano piece, just an overly high mezzo one.
And I don't care. I'm singing something I never could have done before. I'm making two or three consecutive bars sound pretty.
I'm doing something impossible, and that is one of my most favourite things.
And I can see a clear progression since I began in October, and this in itself makes me ultimately proud.
I've done something impossible, and all it came down to was my teacher's talent, and my own perseverence.
I did something impossible, me.