I am running, perhaps for the first time in my life, to a church. For those activities which fit into boxes on PEA schedules, Phillips Church feels as normal to me as Phillips Hall. My presence here today invokes neither genres of recollection. Even as I open the familiar wooden door, I step into the unknown. Today the wooden floor creaks under my feet.
Students mingle in the chairs surrounding the piano, laugh and chit-chat.
They pull photocopied music out of overstuffed backpacks. Early rays of afternoon light fall in pools over the pews. I explain to the boy sitting at the piano bench that I will be observing the rehearsal. Chanta arrives moments later, already greeting her singers before she has laid down her load of books and binders. Just give them a few minutes, she assures the students who have arrived on time.