Soul

Joe smiled. Once in a blue moon, a student came along who made teaching almost seem worth it. Connie was one of those students. The kid was good.

But then the other kids started to laugh. Joe heard their snickers ricocheting around the room.

Connie heard them, too. She seemed to wilt in her chair. Her notes faltered.

“Hang on, hang on!” Joe hollered. He tapped the music stand with his baton. With a few honks and squeaks, the music ground to a halt.

“What are y’all laughing at?” Joe asked sternly.

The students gave him blank looks.

“So Connie got lost in it. That’s a good thing.” Joe walked over to the piano. Still talking, he began to play. “I remember one time, my dad took me to this jazz club. It was the last place I wanted to be. But then I see this guy playing the piano ...” Joe ran his hands over the keys, riffing. “It’s like he’s singing. And I swear, the next thing I know, it’s like he floats off the stage. That guy was lost in the music. He was in it—and he took us with him. I wanted to learn how to talk like that. That’s when I knew I was born to play.”