When I told my friends in orchestra that I wanted to enter the New York International Music Competition, they laughed. It was true, I had only been playing clarinet for eight months, but if I tried hard I thought I could win the competition. Most people wouldn’t try it, but I wanted prove to myself that I was better than students who had been playing longer than me. I had never won a competition, and this time I didn’t want to fail.

The competition was only three months away and I had to select my music piece. The music piece was called C. Bearman Variation. My clarinet teacher shook his head when I said I wanted to play it. It was too difficult, he said.

Everyday, I practiced hours and hours to master my music. At first when I put my lips on the reed, I squeaked loudly. I hated that sound. I tried playing it a few times, but I always ended up playing the wrong notes after few measures. After two weeks, I had barely improved. I was only able to play a tiny part of the piece. One night, I sat in my room playing the same four measures over and over, trying to get it right. The clock on my dresser read eleven thirty.

“David,” my mom yelled from out in the hall. “It’s too late. Stop practicing. You’re going to be exhausted tomorrow.”
“Just a few more minutes, Mom,” I said. “I just need to get this note right!”

After a month, I could play the first half of the song pretty well. But there was no way that I would learn the entire song in a month. I thought about quitting and starting a new song. But if I was going to win this competition, I knew I needed something great, it was this song or none at all.

As I sat in my room in front of the music stand playing the song. I got excited because it was my first time playing through without making a mistake, but as I got to the last page, I squeaked loudly. I was trembling with frustration; I stood up and almost threw my clarinet on the wooden floor. As I held the clarinet in my hand, I turned and looked out the window. There right across the Hudson River were the lights of New York City. I stared at them. I thought about what it would be like to play my song there in that city a little less than a month away. I realized then I wanted to make this a success. I sat down and played my song again, and this time I made it all the way through.

As I was walking to the judge’s room, my heartbeats started pumping like a machine. I held my clarinet and imagined myself playing in Carnegie Hall. As soon as the reed touched my lips, suddenly I was not nervous anymore. Then I played like I had always practiced; I played fluently and bravely. After I was done, the judges were dead silent which made me nervous again.

Did I play badly? I wondered. My palms were sweaty as I waited for their reaction. Surprisingly, they stood and started clapping and told me that the music I played was difficult. Two weeks later I found out that I had won.

I felt beyond great that day because it was my first time that I accomplished something that I worked hard on.