"Err,, sorry, I don't seem to be able to find Teacher S' name here"- holding out the piece of paper.
"Let me see....." she was as perplexed as me and turned to her colleague.
"Maybe Teacher S' class didn't pass the audition" - I half-joked.
"Yes, the class didn't pass the audition"- a male voice affirmed.
"Oooookaay then...". I thought aloud.
The other parents were just as surprised but we all concluded that it is okay and moved on.
We are now learning our first Classical piece - Minuet 1 (J.S Bach).
I have an appointment at the Slimming Centre tonight, and Netball tomorrow night. So there goes two nights without me first learning the new tune.... *stress* Hopefully on Wednesday, I will have the energy to learn. The other time I joined my sis for a night of Netball, I walked like an old lady the two following days. Well, still, the pain and leg cramps were worth the exuberance while on the court. After all, I was very glad to play the sport after a 20-year hiatus, I honestly miss the game. I miss fighting (for the team), I miss winning, I miss loosing, I miss laughing, I miss hating warm-ups. So, I was very glad to have a go at it before I die.
Anyway, the aftermath of netball was not as bad as wake boarding.Wake boarding gave me a lesson on the excruciating pain of the smallest muscles I never knew I had.
Kallang Netball Centre
I played netball for both my Primary & Secondary schools. During that era, height wasn't an unspoken prerequisite but of course tall goalies and keepers are great advantages. Everyone in between are of average height while speed, agility, strategy and jumping & intercepting skills make the bulk of the game. The teams that I was in were never natural champions because we were not highly competitive with the game, we trained when it was time for training and we didn't have enough players to practise with. But we had a good coach. She was strict with the rules. Then came secondary school. It was fun upgraded, we played netball on our own with or without the coach, we asked the water polo boys to play with us (they were merciless), we played so many days in a week, we played until the VP had to come to the field (umbrella in hand), wet and drenched, ordered us to stop the game in the rain. We played until a coach from a reputable girls school asked my coach for my friend and I to play for them on a recreational basis at the SRC at Padang for an opportunity to transfer to the school for studies. During those years, I have not heard of Ivy League schools and had no insights into opportunities like transferring to an elite school on sports merits. So that opportunity slipped by without us pursuing it. Clueless adolescent bunch I was.
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