“I’m going to come with you, actually,” Zoe says, and she follows my mom out of the room. I don’t really want to listen to them flatter each other anymore, but I trail behind them anyway. As long as my mom is within earshot, nobody’s going to confront me about her.
When class resumes, Mom hands out copies of “Anything Goes” by Cole Porter. We sing through the song a few times together, and when we all sound confident, my mom says, “As you see, anyone can learn a song. The notes, the words—those aren’t difficult. The real meat of being a singer lies in being able to bring your own intentions and emotions to the text. Sometimes you discover things about a character that aren’t apparent in the lyrics, and it’s important to be able to express those things as clearly as what’s on the page. What I’d like you to do is take ‘Anything Goes’ and create a narrative behind it, something that gives it intention. Are you singing it to your uptight mom so you can convince her to let you wear something revealing out of the house? Are you singing it to your girlfriend, who’s about to dump you for another man? Think about which words to stress. Think about active verbs. ‘Seduce.’ ‘Placate.’ ‘Dominate.’ Let’s take ten minutes to work, and then we’ll perform for each other.” She makes it sound like an adventure.
I’ve done this exercise a couple of times before, and I usually pick a jokey active verb that doesn’t reveal anything about me. But today I want to do something that proves I belong here. I decide to sing about exactly that: proving myself, proving it wasn’t all a lie when I screamed I deserve to be here into the mirror. I may not have been a superstar right out of the gate, I’ll tell the apprentice company through Cole Porter’s words, but I have something to offer. I am worthwhile.
I label the top of my handout with the word “VALIDATE.”
I’m pretty sure my mom is going to pick me to go first, so I’m extra careful and deliberate about my emotional arc. By the time the ten minutes are up, I have some pretty solid ideas for how to make this song about me. When my mom gathers us back around the piano, my heart starts pounding and my lyrics sheet grows damp in my sweaty hand, but I tell myself I can do this, that I want to do this. If I don’t make a good impression on the other apprentices now, I’ll probably never have another chance.
“Let’s get started,” my mom says, and her eyes sweep over the group. When they land on me, I shift my weight and prepare to get up, even though I’m so nervous now that I feel a little dizzy. But then her gaze moves to my right and settles there.
“Zoe, would you like to go first?” she asks.
Okay, this is fine; I didn’t really want my mom to single me out or give me special treatment. Guests always get to go first on Family Night, and this is kind of the same thing. Maybe she didn’t want someone seasoned to go first and influence the rest of the group. But as Zoe moves to the front of the room, looking excited and full of emotional arcs, I can’t help thinking there’s something else going on here. Maybe my mom does want to start with the strongest example, and she knows I’m not the right person to deliver it.
“Should I tell you my active verb first?” Zoe asks.
“You can go ahead and sing.” Mom turns to the rest of us. “Let’s see if we can guess Zoe’s intention.”
The accompanist starts playing, and Zoe closes her eyes. When she opens them again, her whole physicality is different—she looks hopeful but vulnerable and unsure. Even though “Anything Goes” is a bouncy, confident song, Zoe sings it hesitantly, but with an undercurrent of quiet, tentative flirtation woven through every line. It’s like she’s trying to gauge someone’s interest in her, but in such a subtle way that it wouldn’t be too embarrassing if she were rejected.
My mom usually doesn’t believe in applause during class—she says it changes the energy of the space—but she’s the one who starts clapping when Zoe is finished. “That was marvelous,” she says, and my friend’s smile lights up the room. “You brought a whole new set of emotions to that song. Well done, Zoe.” She turns to us. “Who wants to tell us what you thought Zoe was conveying?”
Livvy raises her hand. “She kind of made the lyrics sound like, ‘I think you might like me, but I’m not totally sure.’?”
Zoe beams. “That’s exactly what I was going for!”
“Good,” my mom says. “This is a wonderful example of how a singer can really make a song her own. What was your active verb, Zoe?”