The Last Holiday Concert Read Online Free PDF Page B

writing.
    Sixth Grade Orchestra–20 minutes
    Sixth Grade Band–20 minutes
    Sixth Grade Chorus–30 minutes

    Â 
    Mr. Meinert underlined the bottom words three times, and each time the chalk made a sound that would have made a dog run out of the room.
    Then he turned to look at the class. Each child was seated, every eye was on his face.
    Mr. Meinert spoke slowly, pronouncing each word carefully. “Thirty minutes. That’s how long the chorus will perform during the holiday concert. All your parents will be there. Grandparents will be there. Probably brothers and sisters. It’s the biggest concert of the year. Well, guess what?” He slowly raised his right arm and with his fingers stretched out, palm down, he swept his hand from side to side, pointing at the whole chorus. “This holiday concert, this thirty-minute performance? It’s all yours .”
    Someone let out a nervous laugh.
    Mr. Meinert spun toward the sound. “Think this is funny? Well, just wait until Decembertwenty-second, a little after seven thirty. That’s when the real fun begins. You see, no one’s coming to that concert to see me. I’m just the music teacher. Everyone is coming to see you , to listen to you. To watch the wonderful program. So that’s when things will start to get fun. Because from this moment on, the holiday concert is all up to you. To you . Not me. It’s not my concert. It’s your concert. You don’t like the songs I’ve picked? Fine. Pick your own. You don’t like the way I run the rehearsals? No problem. Run them yourselves. You don’t want to sing at all? Then you can just stand up in front of your parents and the rest of the school for half an hour and do nothing. Who knows what will happen on December twenty-second? Not me. Right now, there is only one thing that I’m sure of. On December twenty-second a little after seven thirty in the evening, I will make sure that all of you are on that stage in the auditorium. What happens once you’re there … that’s all up to you .”
    Mr. Meinert turned around, looked at the wall calendar, then picked up a piece of chalk and wrote on the board:
    Â 
    23 DAYS
    Â 
    â€œNext Thursday is Thanksgiving. Counting today, there are twenty-three class periods left before the day of your concert. There won’t be any after-school rehearsals like we had for the Halloween concert, no dress rehearsal the night before. You have only these twenty-three class periods. You’ve learned four songs so far. But of course, you might want to toss them out and choose different songs. All that is now up to you. So. Have a nice concert.”
    Mr. Meinert turned and took three quick steps to his desk. He leaned over and pushed. The metal legs screeched on the floor as he slid the desk to the far right side of the room and then spun it around to face the wall. He walked back, rolled his chair over to the desk and sat down, his back to the class. He picked up his Music Educator magazine and began to read the article about teaching Bach.
    For the first time in more than a month, Mr. Meinert felt great.

Seven
THE VOICE OF THE PEOPLE
    H art sat still, hands folded in front of him. But his eyes darted around the music room, looking for clues, watching for danger, trying to see what was coming next.
    The room was silent. Mr. Meinert had been reading at his desk for almost four minutes. Hart studied the back of the man’s head, looking for anger in his neck and shoulders, examining the way he held his magazine. If another storm was coming, Hart wanted to see it in time to duck for cover.
    Hart didn’t trust the quiet. Mr. Meinert was a funnel cloud. Any second now he might whip around and start ripping things apart. Hart wasn’t about to put himself in the path of another tornado. Yesterday’s direct hit had been plenty.
    Off to his right Hart heard a trickle of whispers.
    â€œWhat are we supposed to