It was the summer between my junior and senior year and I was away at a summer youth music school. My parents were getting a divorce, my home life was a mess, and I was happy to spend almost two months with other kids my age focusing on the one thing I really loved: music.
I spent the summer working hard on my vocal performance. I auditioned for groups and tried out for the privilege of private lessons. I didn’t make the special chorus but I did qualify for one-on-one sessions with a vocal coach. I was excited. I was going to grow as a performer.
By the end of the summer I had learned more than I had ever bargained for. I even fell in love. On the last day of camp, hundreds of students and teachers gathered in an auditorium at the University of New Hampshire for a final ceremony.
I wore a loose tee shirt and a jean skirt as I sat in my seat feeling butterflies. I desperately hoped I’d be given an award. I wanted something to prove to the world around me that all of my hard work that summer was good. Really good.
Despite the fact I had rather low self-esteem, I did feel with some certainty that I would get an award. I just knew I had achieved something great. I had matured as a young woman, a student, and as a performer. But as the awards ceremony stretched out, I started to doubt my intuition. Hadn’t I proven my commitment and my passion for music?
Near the end of the awards ceremony, when it seemed as if all the awards had been handed out, the chairwoman of the vocal department stepped up to the podium. She cleared her throat before reading some handwritten words from a small note card.
“And lastly,” she said, “we have an award for this one very special person who worked hard, was committed to learning, and grew in leaps and bounds…The award for most improved singer of this year’s Summer Youth Music School is Brooke Burton.”
“The Most Improved” Award? I sat in my seat completely dumbfounded. I was struck by the thought that maybe the faculty had created the prize in a last minute show of pity. The self-loathing teenager I was–the person who told herself that her body was too square to be attractive and that the deep tone of my contralto voice was too manly–became undeniably uncomfortable in this long hoped for moment. I began to sweat through my tee. I was terrified.
Someone elbowed me to go up and take the award. I could barely feel my feet underneath me as I walked up to the stage. That’s it, I thought to myself. Now everyone knew the cold, honest truth. I was a terrible singer, only made better by a lot of hard work.
I felt humiliated by the award. Because when you’re seventeen years old and full of self-doubt, humility and pride is a hard thing to come by. Humiliation is what shows up, trucked in by the dumpster. “I guess I really sucked,” I said when I got back to my seat. I said it because I half believed it and also so that that person sitting next to me wouldn’t say it to me first.
It’s been decades since I won that marble and gold plated award. But for some reason the memory of that day came back to me today, all vivid and real. The feeling of excitement, pride, expansion, and hope–twinged with a heavy dose of humility–came back to me in the form of this memory. It practically tapped me on the shoulder to see if I was ready for the lesson.
And after twenty years of not being ready, I am.
I know today that life isn’t about getting that One Big Award. It’s not about being The Best. Life is about striving to be better, reaching beyond what feels comfortable, and growing. Life is about working hard, being humble, accepting the accolades along the way, and not getting too caught up in the actual awards.
Of all the awards in life to get, Most Improved might be the best prize I could ever aspire to. It’s a gift for making progress, not perfection. It’s a symbol of hope for better things to come; a prize for learning what was once not known. It is a token of appreciation for someone like me who needs a lifetime to develop and mature.
So here’s to learning, growing, and for reaching far beyond what feels comfortable. And maybe, when it’s all over, we will find ourselves in possession of our very own Most Improved Award. May we all be happy to have been given it.
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I’ve been buying whole chickens at the farmers’ market for a long time. Boiling the leftover scraps of farm stand veggies and the chicken bones in water has always been a great way to make the most of my ingredients. But it was on the day that I had nothing much in my house to eat and I decided to poach an egg in chicken stock that I learned that sometimes it’s the simple adjustments to something good that makes them great.
Most Improved Chicken Broth
Serves one
1 1/2 cups Homemade Chicken Stock*
One egg
Fresh chamomile (one small pinch)
Salt and Pepper to taste
Directions:
Bring your chicken stock to a boil. Meanwhile, crack an egg into a small bowl. Then, stir the broth with a spoon to create a little vortex; slide the egg into the center of it. Turn down the heat and let the egg poach until its desired done-ness. I recommend letting the egg stay slightly runny so you can stir it into the soup for deep layer of flavor. Top with a pinch of fresh chamomile, salt, and pepper.
Eat immediately. Maybe chew on some toasted bread. Whatever you do, admire the soup for what it is, what it has become, and what you could do to improve it next time.
*I like to follow Alice Waters’ recipe for chicken stock from her cookbook The Art of Simple Food. If you would like a trust worthy recipe online, you can not go wrong with Elise’s chicken stock.
*hugs*
Well said…and so right on! Lord help me if I *ever* achieve “The Best” at anything…then what? How boring it’d be to be someone other than the imperfect ME?! 🙂
I’m going to bookmark this post in my folder of ‘Things to Read When I Think I Suck’ 😉 An excellent reminder Brooke, that it’s the journey, not the destination that counts. Thank you for sharing this! And also, a runny, almost cooked egg in soup is one of the most delicious, special meals to have.
I think you should start the Foodwoolf Most Improved Award for food bloggers and writers – I can think of a couple of peeps to nominate! As always thanks for the story.
Lucy,
I really like your idea. Hmmmmmm. What would I give as an award? A gold stamp for the forehead?
xoxox
Brooke
Thank you for sharing this childhood memory. I am certain all of us can relate to a moment like that.
Progress. You’re absolutely right that it’s all about progress. That’s the best thing any of us can hope for.
The only award I won in high school was Teacher’s Pest.
I loved you post Brooke. In high school I won “most improved player” on the volleyball team, and I too was humiliated. I felt like I sucked and that I’d only improved through hard work, but would never be truly great. But as hind sight is 20/20, it’s true that it is about progress, and I’m so much happier with my life now than the girl who won MVP. Life is a learning experience. We truly grow from children into adults when we learn to embrace it.
Brooke, as I was reading your story, I was relating. Same story, different venue. I was into dance, and so wanted to make it. HA! Same town, no support system, and no opportunities. When I got to the paragraph where you got the award, I was smiling; I was so happy for you. Really I was. Then I continued reading your words about how you were humiliated. You should have never been. Most-improved is still progress; it is big! As Danielle said, it journey that counts not the final destination. We can all learn from each other. Your story was the gentle reminder that I need to continue the journey I have laid out, and to do it for me. Lovely story, thank you for sharing a piece of you with all of us.
Another wonderful, thought provoking story and a bonus … a poached egg in chicken soup!? What an incredible idea! I mean, I like egg drop soup and all, but a creamy poached egg would be oh, so much better.
Love what you share Brooke & the commenters above me also shed some fine words of wisdom. The idea of acceptance and striving for “the Award” is one we all need to read. I try to teach my kids – let it be the journey, staying committed & enjoying the ride for what it is. WHATEVER it is. Gotta remind myself that too 😉 Can’t wait to hear your words of wisdom next week. Your posts have been so enlightening. Perhaps you can sing for me next time I see you too! xo
Btw: Love the egg in the soup . . . chamomile, such a tranquil touch 🙂
Thanks Marla! So sweet of you to say! I have to say, if you need a little comforting, this IS the soup to be eating. Without a doubt.
xoxo
B
It warms my heart more than you know to get that hug. You KNEW that girl and loved her. Even when she didn’t. Thank you for being such a great friend.
Lovely post, thanks for sharing this very touching story with us.
Learning to gauge one’s self by one’s own progress and not to by the progress/achievements of others is one of the hardest life lessons for me to accept. But it is one of the most important. Thank you, my dear woman, for reminding me of this.
Love,
Michael
Lovely. I love how I forgot about the recipe until it appeared at the end. Today I am catching up on your posts, taking s break from the heat. A perfect respite. Now I want honey on my face and chicken stock, really good chicken stock.