Regina Flores Dunda

As a music teacher, we are ingrained to promote a specific kind of “audience etiquette”. In fact, the Colorado state standards explicitly call out audience etiquette at the middle and high school grade levels.  In the past, I was completely comfortable with the definition of audience etiquette as it pertained to silence, polite clapping, staying seated, and paying attention to the performer.   Last Fall, I joined The Spirituals Project Choir at the University of Denver. Our mission, in part, is to “preserve and revitalize the music and teachings of the sacred songs called Spirituals”.  Being a part of this choir is one of the best things I have done for myself both musically and spiritually.  It is comprised of mostly African American and Caucasian singers. For the first several months, I was the only Hispanic member.   A few months ago, our choir was asked to perform at New Hope Baptist Church as a recipient of the Choir of the Year award.  This was my first experience

Third grade was the first time my mother realized that I was an outspoken person and perhaps the first time I recognized my own cultural differences.  My family had recently moved to Colorado Springs from New Mexico after my father was relocated by the army.  About halfway during the school year, we were learning about Colorado history and my teacher was telling us about a landmark she called “May-suh Vur-dee” (spelled phonetically).  I interjected with a raised hand to correct her.  “Actually, it’s pronounced Mesa Verde ,” I announced. To which she replied, “No, it’s says right here in the book “may-suh vur-dee”.  Like a good student, I refrained from any further discussion. At the end of the lesson, my teacher asked the class “How has Colorado changed over the years?”  I was the first to raise my hand and I said “They used to call it Mesa Verde, and now they call it Maysuh Vurdee”.   I attended a private college-prep school on a full scholarship. Even then, it was cost prohib