Slow and Steady

I told my husband I would be done teaching by 5:10 pm sharp. "I'm never late!" I assure him.

5:35 pm and he has driven around the block six times, our one year old is pulling at his seat belt trying out his best Houdini moves-- and shrieking.

"You said that you are never late!" My husband accuses as I slip into the back seat, trying to avert the crazy rush-hour drivers.

"Sorry," I say, while attempting to soothe our one year old, "there were tears." On the ride home, I try to explain to my husband the students' frustration as the term comes to an end. Final performances are looming, they want the work to be perfect, but find they are still struggling to find some release in their throat or an emotional connection to words or freedom in their range.

Voice work is challenging because it requires exploration and sometimes just plain dedication. After four or five months of taking classes, a student may begin to understand what is possible but feel very far from achieving that possibility.

* * *

In a beautiful suite above Coal Harbour, we sit on chairs along the perimeter of newly washed living room carpets. We massage our jaws and flex our tongues, experiment with the rhythms and music of commercial tag-lines. My accent reduction pupils feel the same sense of frustration as the acting students. It's just good old-fashioned hard work today.

What we lose sight of is that tomorrow there may be a revelation, a giant leap forward, a triumphant step into new and exciting territory. That land can only be reached through the work, day after day, after day, after day, after day the work begins to unfold and flourish.