I had never taught voice before coming to China. But when the kids sang Charlie Puth’s “One Call Away” for the first time with the entirety of their emotions poured into the vast space of the music classroom, it finally dawned on me that hearing the collection of their voices, all 35 of them - that was a sight of pure beauty. Joan, our coordinator who was observing our class for the first time in preparation for our upcoming performance, thought so as well. Because I had been preoccupied with conducting and beatboxing, I hadn’t noticed it initially, but after we had finished performing, I realized that she had been crying, her face red and wet from the tears that poured down her face. That wasn’t what surprised me most, however. As I looked around the music classroom, I was overwhelmed by the sight of my sobbing students holding onto one another as they wiped away their tears.
In the bridge of “One Call Away”, Charlie writes:
“And when you're weak I'll be strong
I'm gonna keep holding on
Now don't you worry, it won't be long
And when you feel like hope is gone Just run into my arms”
As cheesy as a pop song that “One Call Away” is, these lyrics frequently bring me back to the fall semester of my freshman year. It was a hectic period for me, adjusting to the complexities of college life, but for my family in Houston who was facing the devastation of Hurricane Harvey, it was a heartbreaking time that necessitated the support of the eldest son. The idea of losing the home that I had lived in for years with the many pictures and memories of childhood, family, laughter that had existed in that home was a terrifying thought. But to be unable to hear from my father, mother, and sister over the course of a week because they had been huddled in the attic in chest high flood waters - that was a lived reality that truly tore me apart. And when I finally was able to hear from them over the phone 2500 miles all the way in North Carolina where I was safe in the confines of Duke, I felt as if Charlie had directly addressed those lyrics to me, a resolute call to be strong and unconditional for my family through the tough times that would follow.
These were the thoughts that went through my head amidst the sobbing in the classroom. And as I looked at my weeping students and teary-eyed coordinator, I wondered what these lyrics meant to them. Could it be that my middle school students, years removed from my college age, could also understood the magnitude of the message that Charlie sang? Was it possible that Joan, someone with an upbringing in a vastly different country and culture and who no doubt lived experiences that were very different from mine, also resonated with the call for unconditional acceptance and support that I had felt during those tough times in freshman year?
I think there’s a universality of music that we can all appreciate and gravitate to with the experiences that pervade our own lives. Because beyond the numerals and staves and dashed lines that I had been concerned with at the beginning of teaching music, a western G was just a Chinese five and a Chinese five was really an expression of the human voice that did not need special knowledge to be appreciated and understood. The emotions that my students felt as they sang the jazz standards and pop hits that we taught them - those were the same emotions of heartbreak, suffering, and the glistening joys of life felt by people from all across the world, from those who resided in the past to those that live in our current present. At the heart of music is a yearning for human relationship, an elegant message from the heart, a relentless introspection into the nature of mankind. Perhaps that may not be as salient nor as lucrative as formulas, equations, and the human body, but it is certainly something that we desperately need in the times that we live in.