When Flute Makes You Hungry and Music Makes Memories

Music at Paro College is obviously not just a module; it is an experience. Honestly, the moment you step into the music room, you will feel like, ‘My god, how will I be able to score marks using these instruments when I don’t even know how to hold them?’ Of course, in the beginning, none of us really knew how to hold a flute (Lim) properly, or how to find the chords on the yangchen, chewang, Dramnyen. But slowly, painfully, and yes, hilariously, we began to shape sounds into something that could be called music. And blowing the flute? Indeed, it often made us so hungry that we kept glancing at the clock, wishing lunch would come faster.

Practices were never perfect. One person went too fast, another went too slow, and the whole thing sounded like a big noise. Yet, those mistakes gave us the best memories. Sometimes, during group assignments, when we lost track of notes, we pretended that we meant to stop there, as if it were part of the performance because we were worried about losing marks Of course, no one was fooled, but we carried on, laughing afterward and teasing each other “Yes, you are the best Yangchen player in the world!” Those mismatched moments, far from ruining the experience, became the funniest and most unforgettable parts of it.

And honestly, if someone were to ask me today to write down the notes for a song or perfectly grade the chords, I would have to say: sorry , I can’t. Obviously, most of my friends can’t either. But that was never the point. What we did gain was the confidence to integrate music into our future classrooms, to know how to guide children through rhythm, melody, and joy, even if we can’t compose like professionals. That, indeed, is the beauty of these modules: they don’t demand perfection, but they give us something much deeper.

We owe it to our tutors. Of course,  learning from people like Johan, our foreign music teacher, who was so passionate and patient, was itself an inspiration. And then there was Sir Tshering Dorji , who reminded us, in his own way, that teaching requires patience as much as knowledge. Honestly, if I were in their shoes, I might have been frustrated watching us struggle so long to get a single chord right. But they never gave up on us. They showed us what it means to be a teacher: to keep encouraging and guiding, even when progress feels slow. After all, choosing this college is a reminder to be a good educator  in every deed.

And perhaps one day, when we walk the paths of this campus again, we will carry these music-filled memories like treasures. Indeed, even after decades, I can already imagine myself pausing near the music room and thinking: yes, that’s where I sat, that’s how I practiced, that’s how we laughed. Of course, these are the stories we will share with others, the stories that turn ordinary practice sessions into extraordinary memories.