A pun.

A secret.

An exposure of the truth.

Terrance McKnight told the story of classical music through the eyes of a Black man in America. He told us about being handled in America. It was apropos and could only be told so eloquently through him.

Attending this show with my students and principal was something special. While I sat still, not wishing to miss a note, a thought fluttered across my mind about a book my students finished reading this week. In the prologue of Heart and Soul, Kadir Nelson writes that our precious stories of heritage are only told once. He urges the reader to listen attentively.

McKnight’s narration of growing up in Mississippi and venturing into music outside of the church and the Black community gave me the same message. Listen real good, he seemed to be saying, cause if you miss this beat, it won’t be played again.

My eyes quickly darted across my row of students. Some of them were sitting at the edge of their seats. I wondered what they were really looking for and if they were still excited to be there. The Voices of Harlem were humming, lining out the Word. I knew they knew nothing about that. Even McKnight defined it to help the audience understand. But they sat still with anticipation.

The one closest to me whispered questions they had during the show…

Why is she wearing all white?

Was the mob that killed his Grandfather the KKK?

Then answers were passed down.

Some parts I refused to whisper about. Be still and then you’ll figure it out.

I overheard my students talking about Margaret Bond’s arrangement of “I, Too“. I didn’t read ‘I, Too” in the class; however, I learned from their whispering that they were reading Langston Hughes outside the classroom. 

I looked at them when McKnight spoke to the audience about “tuning it out” He urged them not to listen to voices of doubt that came from outside or within. My students were not moving but sitting as still as they could. When I caught one student’s eye, she smiled. I knew she understood.

Ms. Hurley, she whispered, will we get to meet him after the show? She asked.

I don’t know darling. But don’t talk during this part. This is a Negro spiritual. The choir was now singing The Drinking Gourd and I had never heard it. I only read the words in old books that were passed down to me. It didn’t sound like call and response as I imagine it would. Dr. Thomas’ arrangement made Merriweather glow in supreme delight.

At the end of the night, my students met Mr. McKnight who told them now it was his turn to visit their school.