She smelled of baby powder and her beautiful curls crunched against my face.  She was big and soft and she insisted on sitting beside me to give me a hug, snuggling closer until she fell asleep, quietly snoring as the music played on.  Her classmates were playing instruments, dancing and moving to the music with the adults who took care of them, but for some reason, this young woman looked at me across the room, smiled, pointed, and came over for a huge, long, hug.

Her teacher and paras looked at me to ask if I was ok.  Not much earlier, this young woman had been swatting at others in the room, trying to express her feelings but not having the words.  You could tell she struggled cognitively but she was feeling the music, even if she wasn’t happy about something.  There were several students in this adaptive music class, one in a wheelchair who kept shouting “yeah” in time with the music, and others who were playing rhythm patterns on instruments and dancing in eight count phrases of easy movement to different types of music, one sounding like an Irish jig, another in French, another Greek.  One piece followed the other in rapid succession, the students grabbing the requested instruments out of the box with their name on it to join in on the music making.

I sat with my new friend for quite a while as she shifted a little and kept snoring softly.  There wasn’t much time left in class, so her para came over to wake her up and move her back to the group I had been observing.  Not happy to have her sleep interrupted, the young woman took a weak swat at her teacher who gently touched her arm and kindly asked her to wake up and go with her.  With encouragement from both of us, she did, telling me thank you and goodbye, planting a big kiss on my cheek before walking across the room.

The students were asked to get a “big” drum for themselves that were lined up against the wall.  The drums were a bit heavy, causing the middle school students to struggle a little, but praised by the adults for their strength.  They then proceeded to play drums to a pop song, imitating the rhythm pattern modeled by the teacher, the girl in the wheelchair moving immediately to the sound of the music, again shouting “yeah” in rhythm, while her para sat on the floor, holding the drum close enough for her to hit.

My new friend continued to look at me across the room, blowing kisses and making hearts with her hands, accepting the kisses I blew back to her with a cute hug to her own face.  Then came the question from her teacher – they had a few minutes left after playing the drums.  Did she want to sing her song for me?  The teacher picked out two mini guiros from the box, handing one to the young woman and one to her para who both walked over to sit by me.  Then it began – the recording of Whitney Houston singing “I Will Always Love You”. 

The girl knew every word, but occasionally insisted that either her para or I sing with or instead of her.  I was glad I knew the song!  Holding her “microphone” to her mouth (and occasionally to mine), I could hear her pretty voice matching pitch most of the time, even though she occasionally had difficulty with the words.  She put her arm in the air, waving it like she was at a concert and we joined in, still singing her heart out as best she could.  She knew every phrase, every rubato, every little nuance to the song and imitated. It was a thing to behold and I found myself grinning like an idiot, mainly to keep myself from crying.

When the song was over, we all applauded as she smiled and returned her “mic“ to the teacher.  As she and the other students left the room, she turned and blew another kiss, made another heart with her hands and left the room.  It was the best experience I had had in a classroom in a long time.

Music is in ALL of us.  In every human being regardless of their abilities.  It showed itself in the natural movement of someone who has difficulty moving.  It gives words to someone who has difficulty speaking.  And it gives joy to everyone who experiences it. We don’t need to understand how it works, know all the names of the notes or read the rhythms to experience the joy of music making.

As I sit here tonight writing about this experience, I can tell you that what I saw today was as beautiful as experiencing opera at the Met or hearing the Chicago Symphony play my favorite piano concerto and it will be just as memorable.  It was really a reminder that the music inside us is what makes us human.  All of us.