Lesson 2 And the Orchestra ① Played On

1、The other day, I found myself looking through a closet, searching for my old viola.This wasn’t how I’d planned to spend the afternoon. I hadn’t given a thought to the instrument in years. I barely remembered where it was, much less how to play it. But I had just gotten word that my childhood music teacher, Jerry Kupchynsky—“Mr. K.” to his students—had died.

2、In East Brunswick, N.J., where I grew up, nobody was feared more than Mr. K. He ran the town’s music department with a ferocity ② never before seen in our quiet corner of suburbia ③ . In his impenetrably thick Ukrainian accent, he would scold us for being out of tune, our elbows ④ in the wrong position, our counting out of sync ⑤ .

3、“Cellos sound like hippopotamus rising from bottom of river,” he would yell during orchestra rehearsals ⑥ . Wayward violinists played “like mahnyiak,” while unlucky gum chewers “look like cow chewing cud.” He would rehearse us until our fingers were callused ⑦ , then interrupt us with “Stop that cheekin plocking!”

4、Mr. K. pushed us harder than our parents, harder than our other teachers, and through sheer force of will made us better than we had any right to be. He scared the daylight out of us.

5、I doubt any of us realized how much we loved him for it.

6、Which is why, decades later, I was frantically ⑧ searching for an instrument whose case still bore the address of my college dorm. After almost a half-century of teaching,at the age of 81, Mr. K. had died of Parkinson’s disease. And across the generations,through Facebook and e-mail messages and Web sites, came the call: it was time for one last concert for Mr. K.—performed by us, his old students and friends.

7、Now, I used to be a serious student. I played for years in a string quartet with Mr. K.’s violin-prodigy ⑨ daughters, Melanie and Stephanie. One of my first stories as a Wall Street Journal reporter was a first-person account of being a street musician.

8、But I had given it up 20 years ago. Work and motherhood intervened; with two children and long hours as an editor, there wasn’t time for music any more. It seemed kind of frivolous. Besides, I wasn’t even sure I would know how.

9、The hinges ⑩ sounded when I opened the old case. I was greeted by a bunch of loose horsehair—my bow a victim of mites, the repairman later explained. It was pure agony, to twist my fingers into position. But to my astonishment and that of my teenage children—who had never heard me play—I could still manage a sound.

10、It turned out, a few days later, that there were 100 people just like me. When I showed up at a local school for rehearsal, there they were: five decades worth of former students. There were doctors and accountants, engineers and college professors. There were people who hadn’t played in decades, sitting alongside professionals like Mr. K.’s daughter Melanie, now a violinist with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. There were generations of music teachers.

11、They flew in from California and Oregon, from Virginia and Boston. They came with siblings- and children; our old quartet’s cellist, Miriam, took her seat with 13other family members.

12、They came because Mr. K. understood better than anyone the bond music creates among people who play it together. Behind his scream—and behind his wicked. sense of humor and taste for Black Russians—that was his lesson all along.

13、He certainly learned it the hard way. As a teenager during World War Ⅱ, he endured two years in a German internment/ camp. His wife died after a long battle with multiple sclerosis0. All those years while we complained that he was riding us too hard,he was raising his daughters and caring for his sick wife on his own. Then his younger daughter Stephanie, a violin teacher, was murdered. After she vanished in 1991, he spent seven years searching for her, never giving up hope until the day her remains were found.

14、Yet the legacy1 he had left behind was pure joy. You could see it in the faces of the audience when the curtain rose for the performance that afternoon. You could hear it as his older daughter Melanie, her husband and their violinist children performed as a family. You could feel it when the full orchestra, led by one of Mr. K.’s students,poured itself into Tchaikovsky and Bach. It powered us through the lost years, the lack of rehearsal time—less than two hours—and the lost notes from us students who have not played in a long time.

15、Afterward, Melanie took the stage to describe the proud father who waved like a maniac2 from a balcony in Carnegie Hall the first time she played there. At the end of his life, when he was too ill to talk, she would bring her violin to his bedside and play for hours, letting the melodies speak for them both. The bonds of music were as strong as ever.

16、In a way, this was Mr. K.’s most enduring lesson—and one he had been teaching us since we were children. Back when we were in high school, Mr. K. had arranged for Melanie and our quartet to play at the funeral of a classmate killed in a horrific car crash. The boy had doted on his little sister, a violinist. We were a reminder of how much he loved to listen to her play.

17、As the far-flung orchestra members arrived for Mr. K.’s final concert, suddenly we saw her, that little girl, now grown, a professional musician herself. She had never stopped thinking about her brother’s funeral, she told me, and when she heard about this concert, she flew from Denver in the hope that she might find the musicians who played in his honor. For 30 years, she had just wanted the chance to say, “Thank you.”

18、As did we all.

(1,004 words)

Exercises

Ⅰ. How well did you read?

1. [Determine the purpose] The author wrote this essay mainly to______ .

A. reflect on the memories of her music teacher

B. show how much she loved to play the violin

C. tell her kids the story about why she quit playing the violin

D. prove that Mr. K was a good teacher

2. [Evaluate the information] What was the most important lesson taught by Mr. K?

A. In order to play well students need to cooperate.

B. The joy of music bonds people together.

C. Life may be harsh, but never give up.

D. Skills while playing a musical instrument are important.

3. [Identify the goal] The students re-gathered after Mr. K died in order to______ .(Choose the wrong answer)

A. attend his funeral

B. play one last piece for him

C. show support for his family D. pass on the legacy of him

4. [Check the detail] What happened to Mr. K’s younger daughter?

A. She became a violin player later in her life.

B. She went through bad health conditions.

C. She brought Mr. K’s students together.

D. She was murdered and unfound for seven years.

Ⅱ. Read for words and expressions:

1. Choose one best paraphrase for the underlined words.

(1) In his impenetrably thick Ukrainian accent, he would scold us for being out of tune, our elbows in the wrong position, our counting out of sync. (Para. 2, line 3)

A. extremely B. inaccessibly C. enduringly

(2) It seemed kind of frivolous. (Para. 8, line 3)

A. unimportant B. risky C. impossible 2. Choose one best paraphrase for the underlined expressions.

(1) You could feel it when the full orchestra, led by one of Mr. K.’s students, poured itself into Tchaikovsky and Bach. (Para. 14, line 5)

A. immersed itself in

B. involved itself in C. reflected itself upon

(2) The boy had doted on his little sister, a violinist. (Para. 16, line 4)

A. devoted B. spoiled C. educated

Ⅲ. Writing practice.

Have you ever learned a musical instrument, dancing, painting, etc. in your childhood?If yes, what was your teacher like and how did he/she influence your life? If not,what would you choose to learn if given a chance? Write a 200-word narrative that is similar to Para. 3 & 4 telling your story.