Chapter 11

Before RCM, I myself did not know how good I was. All I knew was that I had not been better than X, as CC blatantly let me know. I had this itch to find out where I actually stood in the RCM hierarchy. I knew that the minute I would decide on pursuing RCM, I would enter into the world of rankings. Still, I needed to know. The RCM examinations gave the instructors full preview of the student’s marks and rankings. If I wanted to know, CC would get to know as well. I got a bit frightened by this fact. I was afraid of embarrassing myself and failing and proving CC right. Furthermore I was afraid I was gonna rank lower than some of CC’s younger students, which was embarrassing in its own way. 

I remember there were two factors that made my decision more firm. The first was that even if I failed, I would still be useful to my public school orchestra. My identity as a cello playing force in my public school was solidified. I was not going to lose that title no matter how badly I blew it. The second was that I had very little to prepare for when I made the decision. Not only have I already done interval training and ear training at my school with the choir, I have basically been through the exam scenario already. The exam was just me, my accompanist and the examiner. I was to play some repertoire to no audience and with no support. All my years of performing without the support of my mom and with only CC and other strangers to judge me was second nature to me. 

With my mind made up I told CC about my decision to do RCM. He plainly said, 

“Sure but why don’t you start at level 7.”

There is some subtext here to be said. Most of CC’s students, when they do RCM for the first time, usually start off at RCM level 8. Level 8 is when you are considered a serious RCM ranker. This was because of 2 things. First, the repertoire at level 8 was some of the most commonly known pieces. Having these pieces in your repertoire was a rite of passage and that essentially made RCM level 8 a rite of passage. Secondly, back in the day, this was the last level of RCM before you needed to do additional theory testing. Every RCM level that mattered had a musical theory or history co-requirement. For up to level 8, there was only 1 requirement. Anything after 8, you would need 2 additional requirements.

What this means is that in 2009, if you wanted to pass level 8 of RCM, you had to pass the level 8 music theory co-requirement called “Rudiments” first. Only with Rudiments completed, could you have the co-requisite needed to complete all RCM levels up to 8 and get your certification of passing. Without it, it wasn’t considered a true score. On and in case you’re wondering, if you wanted to do your RCM level 9, you would need additional music theory co-requisites in the form of Music Theory “Harmony 1”, which was the next level of music theory and Music History 1, which was a new additional co-requisite. 

Basically, most people who wanted to do RCM started at the level 8 mark so that they only needed to do 1 music theory requirement. Then, only if you did well and passed, you would consider pursuing the next level of music theory and music history while learning the repertoire for level 9. This was kind of the pattern and the brief overview of how things usually worked. Here’s the basic circuit for the cello players who did RCM. 

Start here → RCM level 8: learn Rudiments 1 then do RCM level 8

If you passed

RCM level 9: learn music theory “harmony 1” and learn music history 1 then do RCM level 9

If you passed

RCM level 10: learn music theory “harmony 2” and learn music history 2 then do RCM level 10

**The theory courses may have had different names in 2009 but I can’t seem to recall them nor find them online anymore. Don’t worry, that’s not important to the story.

After RCM level 10, you have to do your ARCT, which is the final level. I don’t know what ARCT stands for but I knew it was the last level. Oh! And for any instrument that wasn’t the piano, ARCT for you had a requirement that you also had to have at least a RCM level 6 in piano as well. I have an idea as to why this was needed but this did gate-keep a lot of people from getting their ARCT. Myself included. No so much in that piano was difficult but it was just that I had no time to learn another instrument with my schedule the way it was. 

Anyhow, doing level 7 was not a regular starting point. For me personally, this felt like an insult. 

I have been studying with CC for over 3 years now and am his longest lasting student. Everyone else was doing level 8 but he put me in level 7. Level 7 for CC was where he sent his younger students. In fact, the kids doing level 7 were usually half my age. I felt embarrassed but I still just went with it. Why did I go through with it? I have no fucking clue. This didn’t feel good and added an extra layer of anxiety to the entire ordeal. The anxiety was that what if I am not even good enough to meet the standards of some kiddos CC was teaching. 

Though I had wanted RCM, I was now not having a good time. This is the first time I was worried about imposter syndrome. Has all the fun I had music in school given me a false sense of what music should be? Had I stretched myself too thin in the music department? Maybe instead of joining the music department and the music council at my public school I should have just been drilling my repertoire for RCM. Lots of thoughts and nightmares started to haunt me. I tried to use the fear. Everyday I got home, I practiced more and more out of fear of doing terribly and having my mark be super low. How much practicing did I really need to do? My only yardstick was from CC and his remarks was that he didn’t even want me to do any RCM. I knew that his other students did usually okay with RCM but that unfortunately would cause a new fear to form. If CC was telling me about other students he had and how they did in RCM, if I failed or did badly, CC would probably tell my failures to everyone he knew as well.  

As I considered my options more, I also came to the other problem with doing level 7. If I passed, many could simply claim that I had taken an easy test and passed because the average age of the participants for that test was way lower than mine. There was no winning here. I could either be the best among kids, a bad title to have, or I could be a loser among losers. 

I was stressed about this. This became exhausting to think about as I forced myself to study. Studying and practicing out of fear was not healthy. Fortunately though, the stress and feeling of impending doom subsided. What returned? Remember that dark warm feeling I got when I first heard my mom say over the telephone that she was going to Canada and leaving me behind in China? That was back. The feeling wasn’t just a one time thing this time though, it was there every time I was thinking about the RCM examination. 

I am still unsure about what it really is but it made me focused. I used to be so confused by the feeling but I think I started to understand that feeling more. The dark and warm feeling would usually fill up in my stomach and then extend to my entire body. When the dark warm feeling was there, I was focused. I was also numb to the anxiety. I am pretty sure this is all in my head but I think the best way I can describe this is, I had split myself in half. 

A part of me would worry but that part of me would be silenced. While this was at at cost of numbing a lot of other feelings I had, it allowed me to use my habits of practicing the cello everyday. The muscles to practice would simply kick in and I just got ready to work. My body was essentially telling my mind to shut up and move on. When I was in my teenage years I became conscious of this state of mind. In my head, I called this 

Mode Deathwish 

An edgelord name I know but I was super into anime at the time so just go with it. It was essentially the idea that I would completely disregard my mental health and get to work no matter how much baggage I carried. I think a part of this was the fact that I got tired of being the victim of neglect and got tired of making up excuses. Excuses or not, mom would accept any explanation for my failures so why bother? If she didn’t care about me, only my results, why should I care about me? I should only care about my results and this is the only way to give myself a fighting chance. This wasn’t very healthy but the deathwish mentality is effective. When I was stressed, I would get to work and start practicing. When I was feeling ashamed of my practicing, I would simply keep practicing. When times got hard, getting the work done was what I would try to do. Screw my mental health and need for some R and R, the world didn’t care about my mental status, why should I? Time to get back to work.

As the RCM testing got closer and closer, I was practicing more and more. I stopped breakdancing for a period and have essentially stopped watching TV all together. I didn’t care that I would not win whether I did well or not. I didn’t care that no matter how I scored as it probably wouldn’t change much about the way CC saw me or how he treated me. I gradually came to understand the feeling of acceptance that the RCM was a mistake and a mistake CC warned me against as well. However, I couldn’t turn back now. With that, the idea of giving it your all without a cause filled my head. I’ve invested too much into this test now, even if I fail, so be it. 

While not great, this was the healthiest mindset I could have arrived at and luckily it stuck. With this new mentality, I eliminated a lot of stress and anxiety from my day, the dark warm feeling was started to become less and less needed. I think another way of analyzing this period of life was that the stress and anxiety had run its course. The emotional centers for those areas in my brain probably had been activated so much that they got overused and burnt out. When this happens, I was only left with the habits they produced.

Anyhow, it’s been around 2 months of just grinding away at level 7. The season for RCM was almost here. CC hosted another recital for all his students at a local church and told me to perform a piece I would be doing for the RCM exams. He then introduced me to a pianist, the same pianist that would eventually be with me on the day of my RCM exam. This was totally expected, I knew the actual exam wouldn’t be just me, I would have an accompanist. Adjusting to playing with just myself and playing with accompaniment was pretty easy. 

Anyhow, the day of the practice recital came. I did my usual routine of showing up early in case the buses were not on time this day and got to the venue. It was a church, a usual place for recitals. As I was unpacking, I saw a car pull up with X and her mom. I had overheard a few days earlier that she was going to be playing repertoire from her level 9 RCM test. I didn’t care anymore though. Like I said, my stress and anxiety centers were burnt out. As X’s mom and CC started their usual pep talk, I took my now fully unpacked my cello to the back room. I started warming up. I did my usual scales and tried to tune the world out. My hands and wrists at this point had been used to 3 hour rehearsals every day and warming up just felt natural. After a little while, others joined me in the backroom to warm up too. Soon after that, the recital would start.

I went into the audience to wait for my turn. Though I kept my head down, 1 person stood out from the rest among the audience. He was a conductor for a local Chinese community orchestra and was somewhat of a local legend. I think CC has told me that there was an orchestra for high school students like me that was hosted by him sometime in the past but he brushed it off like most things right after that remark. While that orchestra was just a youth orchestra of random Chinese musicians, legend has it that if you joined and made an impression on the conductor, he would connect you to a network of real money-paying gigs. These were just rumors of course but I didn’t know the guy except from concept pamphlets and this was all the information I had at the time. I did truly believe he was important though, the reason was that both CC and X’s parents were chatting him up. 

I didn’t know why he was here but suddenly felt a crack in my calm demeanor. It could have been the fact that he was there or it could have been the fact that in a few more minutes I would go on stage but I started to get nervous again. The recital started with some of the younger kids and the most basic levels. They were there just to perform for their parents and they weren’t doing the RCM or anything. They reminded me of me from just a few years ago. They weren’t necessarily bad but not really outstanding either. I quietly wondered if CC had yelled at them too like he had with me. Whatever, not the time to pay attention to that. I zoned out for a bit as they sequentially went up and then performed. I tried to think away my anxiety that was now eating at my thoughts.

Have you ever wondered why Asian parents force their children to learn music? It makes no sense, right? Especially when, after they finish high school, they would let all the demons in hell loose before they let you major in something other than STEM. So why do it? Some of my friends have come to say it’s because parents from China looked upon music as the ultimate sign of prestige in the white man’s world. If we had classical music ability, we would be able to carry favor with them and join the echelon of the elite. Some others say it’s the best way to teach discipline. The real reason is probably a bit of both. When you ask the parents, they’ll probably tell you the same thing over and over again. They’ll say it’s for the enrichment of their child’s education. Sometimes they’re right. I was definitely culturally enriched by classical music. However, I was also verbally abused every step of the way. In the end, I do think classical music was still, in majority, a force of good in my life. The cello gave me an identity when I was in high school and at the very least introduced me to the music camp where I got to experience some of the wonders of youth. That was well worth the years of verbal abuse I suffered in my mind. 

As that thought trailed behind my mind, I had another thought. Identity in high school? If I don’t do well at the RCM test, what does that mean for my identity in school? I was the first chair cellist in my public school and I was kind of proud of it. I knew I had a long way to go before being a good cellist in isolation, a fact that was ingrained into me by CC’s constant belittling, but I never thought about how I would perceive myself if I did badly in RCM. I questioned how much I valued being the first chair of cello in public school. I was not contested in this role. While I attributed my identity to it, I never thought about how I would value this role if I were to find out that this role was simply because I was one of the few cellists that did private lessons in my school and not because I was actually exceptional. This existential question loomed over me as I kept zoning out. Then, I came back to reality. It was now only 1 piece before my turn up on stage. 

I remember exactly what I said to myself that day as I was awaiting for my turn to perform. I told myself that if, as the first chair in my high school, even if I couldn’t do well in RCM, I still had to try my best at it because the music department at my public school only had me. They didn’t have anyone else. Just like that, I briefly steered clear of a new road to imposter syndrome, at least for a little bit.

Finally, it was my turn. I got up and immediately started to shake. I think the gravity of how much I placed on my ability to play the repertoire had finally gotten through to me. My hands shook as I took out my cello and they shook as I sat down. At this point I realized my shaking was noticeable and got even more nervous. In the previous recitals, I was never this nervous. This kind of stuff never bothered me. But now that I had a foot in the ranked side of music, I was more exposed than ever. I wasn’t just playing a piece, I was trying to play a piece the best I could. People now knowing that I was trying was kind of a big deal. I took one last look at the crowd. Mom was not in sight and no one was here to help, then I looked around to see CC chatting quietly with someone while I was getting ready. I looked at my cello and tried to breathe normally. Then, the dark warm feeling came on and the shaking went away. As I got settled in my chair, I took one last look at the crowd. I focused on CC again. He was still chatting away with the person he sat next to. A thought popped in my head. 

“Fuck you”

I got angry. The deathwish mentality had kept me in a poker face but in my head, I was thinking why he didn’t shut up when it was now my turn to perform. Have some decency, geez. I brushed the thought aside, this wasn’t going to help anyone if I lost my cool now. I dug into the dark warm feeling again and my face was now perfectly calm as I entered into work mode. All the hours I put into the piece was paying off. The piece was memorized not only by me but all my muscles as well. They were all ready to go. My fingers knew what they were doing even if I zoned out the entire piece. I knew then that my body wasn’t about to fail me. I breathed in once to signal my pianist and started the pieces. 

When playing alone or as a soloist, sometimes a few jitters make their way into playing. As a musician, sometimes you have to alleviate those mini jitters as much as possible. I have always liked the idea of moving with the music. It was not just to express yourself but it was moving your body in a way to gain some more control over movement in general. The more control you had, the less jitters would come out. I’d imagine that this is what most musicians do in the beginning of their careers which would gradually remain as a habit and stereotype we see on the professional stage. I would do this later on in my music career but not this time. This time I was furious and steady. I stared at my strings, that was my go to when performing. All musicians have something they do with their eyes when performing. My thing was choosing a spot and staring at it then zoning out. For most cello playing, this spot was right on the strings I was bowing. I didn’t look up and couldn’t tell if CC had shut up or not but I didn’t care. Once I got started with the piece, I knew that nothing mattered except how well I was performing. Even with that in mind, I had a mini battle with rage going on in my head. 

Despite my best efforts, I was not doing everything as precisely as I could. The rage I felt was spilling out of my playing in the form of speeding up. My tempo was too hard to control. Luckily though, the last half of my piece had a tempo change that sped up anyhow. This played perfectly into my waves of emotions and before I knew it it was coming to an end. While I was still keeping up with my playing, a small glimmer at the edge of my eye saw my accompanist sweating. I was going way faster than what we had rehearsed. I think she was even struggling to keep up. By miracle, the way the piece was structured made it seem like I was doing this all intentionally but I felt bad for her. She must have been blindsided by my playing this time around. To her credit though, she didn’t miss a single note. What a professional. 

The last few notes hit. Chords. 

Chords on cello meant you gotta roll the strings a bit to hit all four strings. This was the perfect opportunity to release some of the jitter energy. Afterall, you couldn’t screw this up with jitters. I poured as much muscle as I could into the strings and hit the notes like hammers on steel. Then the last chord came and I held it just long enough to lock eyes with the accompanist to show her I was gonna finish it with a bit of force and I pulled on the bow. 

Then it was over.

The audience applauded like they normally do. What I love about music is you can go through all of these intense emotions and fight tooth and nail during a piece in your head only for the audience to all think it to be part of the performance. In some ways, it is. It’s theater. It’s sometimes the music but more times it’s not. You may think that the musician is performing for you but sometimes, like this time, they were doing it for themselves. I had my own journey on stage under the guise of just an amateur recital held by some local music teacher. On the outside that’s all it was. Inside though, the emotions and the memories are still known to me even to this day because of how visceral it was. The funny thing, I can’t even remember the name of the piece. Mind you, the name was in Chinese in my book because, unable to afford a proper Canadian edition of the piece, we were learning off of a photocopy of CC’s book. That didn’t matter though, what’s more was that after all that was done, and after I let all of that rage out, the world was still in place and the audience thought it was all just a normal part of the piece. The world kept spinning on, unmoved by this chaotic spiral of emotional energy I just spewed out. 

I got up. Took a quick bow while the applause was still going on and quickly went to the rehearsal room. X was going up next but I couldn’t stay anymore. I didn’t care what she was doing with her piece. I felt tired. That was way more exhausting than I thought. Also, why stay this time? To get more anxiety from hearing how well X was going to perform? That won’t change the fact that I would do the RCM soon. I didn’t need that today. While she went on stage, I packed up my things in the rehearsal room. Only getting glimpses of her playing through the walls. 

As she finished her piece, I walked out to the main hall. I thanked the accompanist and other parents helping with the event for giving me an opportunity to be on stage. As I did this, I felt a bit of shame knowing that at the back of everyone’s heads that they heard me play a RCM level 7 piece. This was the first time that X and the other families would officially find out which level of RCM I was pursuing. I suspect they may have known from CC but this was definitive proof towards my level. Repertoire does not lie. That thought quickly came and went. I was going to leave. Didn’t need to deal with CC who didn’t even shut up when I was about to start to play my piece. Should have I expected some type of common decency for his longest enduring student? Maybe. Whatever, that’s past now. 

In truth I was probably reading too much into this. As I mentioned previously, the only consistent adult male figure in my life has always just been the cello teacher. For better or for worse, I got CC now. Was he really so insufferable? Was I just trying to impose too many roles onto him? I can’t tell. Maybe I was asking too much of a cello teacher. I needed a father figure and I never considered him one. Yet, I kept yearning for his approval all the time. He was all I had. A short tempered asian man. A bit sad maybe but hey, I had gotten over the need for a mom at one point. Doing the same for a father figure should be too hard right?

The emotions I felt from playing the piece that time was the most I have ever had to deal with since practically the beginning of my cello career. In comparison, when it came to my actual RCM examination, it felt super easy. I was composed and didn’t speed up one bit. No audience? Just 1 adjudicator? All I had to do was focus on the piece? That’s fine by me! I was breezing through all the requirements of the test and knew that at the very least I would probably pass. Or so I hoped. Who knows how these things were even graded? This was my first test afterall. 

The whole ordeal of the exam was not something that required spending 3 hours a day practicing. Level 7 repertoire, when over practiced, was more tedious than it was rewarding. At a certain point, it was diminishing returns. I probably would have learned more if I spent some of the time practicing harder repertoire. I knew I had the techniques to do so much more. Furthermore, I already memorized the repertoire weeks in advance. When I finished the test with RCM, I was feeling content. However, I also felt like I was going to give up on the whole thing. The stress and the anxiety was not worth it. I could have easily given the energy I poured into this RCM thing into other hobbies. 

I stopped caring if I couldn’t be the cello guy. I could be the swimming guy or the breakdancer guy. The cello thing was too toxic, evident by just how much shit I went through during the first RCM test I’ve done for something I was over prepared for. With that, I also started to seriously contemplate quitting my private lessons for cello too. I could just be a public school cello player who was average at the instrument. We could save money on cello lessons, and I could free up tons of time. My school wouldn’t even take the first desk cello away from me, they had no one else. 

I probably would have quit then and there if not for the fact that a package would come for me in the mail about two weeks later.