So, I've decided to make this Story Week! here on my blog. Each day I am going to share a story, whether it be one of my own or my grandparent's amazing love story that stretches between two continents. If you want, you can share some stories of your own on your blog and just let me know here and I'll go check them out, or just leave a story in the comments and I'll be sure to read it! :)
Anyway... today's story, I've decided is just going to be something silly (we need silliness on these dreary Mondays) that happened to me last year on a choir trip.
The Day the Turtle Emerged From Its Shell
There are two things you should know before I start this story. One, I am not really an outgoing person. (Although I am quite talkative when I want to be). Two, the choir director that I have had for the past three years is, um, kind of crazy (which, if you've ever known any music teacher, is kind of predictable).
Anyway... last year was my first time on a choir tour with this choir director's choir. They have a bunch of weird traditions -like saying "Opa" (I'm still not sure exactly when you're supposed to say this) and singing at every single street corner, restaurant and hotel we stop at/eat at/stay at. (Actually, "drive-by singing" is really fun).
Most of the time we get around by bus, and since we have to make sure we don't leave anyone behind, we have to do attendance each time. Awhile ago the chaperones found an efficient way of doing this - assign everyone a number and everyone just shouts out their number when it's their turn.
Well, guess what? My crazy choir director had made up a way to get all the students to pay attention during attendance -you have to do something embarassing if you don't say your number. And you have to do it whatever number of times your number is. One guy had to take his shirt off his shirt 3 times (his last name only started with C).
So. My last name starts with S. I was number 23. And... yeah, I missed my number. It was pretty terrible, I had completely forgotten it was mine and the chaperones were looking around going "23? Who's 23?" and all of a sudden my eyes widen and I realize... I'm 23. I did not like the mischevious looks my choir director was giving me as they tried to cook up a punishment!
After a few minutes of discussion, they came up with a plan: I had to count 23 of my curls. (If you've looked at the "The Blogger" page, you'll know I have a live creature that lives on my head -I mean, *ahem*, curly hair). Name each one. And give each one a characteristic. This might not have been so bad if it was someone who was outgoing and could easily stand up in front of a busload of teenagers and subsequently name and personalityize 23 locks of their hair.
But I did it, and I actually started naming them after people on the bus and saying one of their characteristics, and so it actually turned out to be kind of fun. I probably embarassed myself with some of the things I said, but I got a little turtle as an award on our unofficial end-of-trip awards ceremony (another choir tour tradition) for "coming out of my shell".
Yup. :) Hope you enjoyed that!
|I will only come out of my shell for food. Only food!!|