Six hundred anxious parents and relatives sat in the school hall waiting for the talent show to begin. Jane sat alone in the crowd. It seemed everything she did lately, she did alone. Over the past several years the unexpected downward spirals (逐渐下滑) had destroyed her marriage and seriously threatened her financial situation, leaving her exhausted and hopeless. She worried how she was going to provide a future for herself and her eight-year-old daughter, Renee.

Renee had one passion—to learn Irish dance. For several years, with a borrowed CD, she had taught herself a few steps and had even danced in front of both her first and second grade classes. This year, despite their situation, Jane had somehow managed to squeeze enough from her budget to pay for Renee’s dancing lessons. For four months Renee had practiced, determined to perform in this talent show.

Renee could not have been more excited or looked more beautiful than she did tonight in her borrowed Irish costume and shoes. Full of confidence, she was ready to dance! As the program moved through each performance, Jane was anxious and wondered how her little third grade daughter would respond to such a large audience. In her short eight years, Renee had never faced such a challenge.

Finally, it was Renee’s turn. Jane held her breath as the curtain rose and the spotlight piereed (穿透) through the darkness and onto her daughter looking so small and alone on the stage. The audience greeted her with polite applause and the music began.

Renee fell quickly into step with the cheerful Irish tune. Her joy was evident as she danced and spun (旋转) in circles around the stage. A few in the crowd began to clap with the music. More joined in until the entire audience, caught up in the beat, was clapping along with Renee as she danced lightly.

But wait! Jane wanted to shout. What happened?

The music shouldn’t have stopped!

In the silence of that hall, Renee danced on and on.

Why Ear-worms Get Stuck in Your Head

We all get a sensation when a song, for no apparent reason, refuses to leave your head — in fact we’re no strangers to the dreaded “ear-worm.” But a new study published in Psychology of Aesthetics, Creativity and the Arts reveals a fascinating insight into ear-worms, and why some songs are better than others in sticking in our heads by investigating the actual elements of the song that make it catchy in the first place.

To do this, most frequent ear-worms of the participants were entered into a database and compared to songs that had never been reported as an ear-worm at all. The melodic features of the tunes were then analyzed, revealing that ear-worm tunes were typically those songs that have overall melodic shapes common in Western pop music. A classic example of a common contour (音调的升降曲线) pattern is heard in Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, where the first phrase rises in pitch and the second falls. This makes the tune easy to remember and has been exploited in many other nursery rhymes, but also in pop music.

In addition to the melodic shape, the other ingredient to the ear-worm formula is the unusual interval structure. The aim of this is to surpass the listener’s expectations of an average pop song, showing unexpected leaps or more repeated notes than usual. “Our findings show that you can, to some extent, predict which songs are going to get stuck in people’s heads based on the song’s melodic content,” says one of the researchers, “This could help song-writers or advertisers write a jingle (短歌) everyone will remember for days or months afterwards.”

The authors conclude that studies of ear-worms can help explain how the brain works, and improve our understanding in how perception, emotions, memory and spontaneous thoughts behave in different people.

That was a big competition. We all knew it. The entire school was filled with excitement and anticipation. It was the annual choir(合唱) competition, and we were determined to participate despite knowing that many of us were not the best singers.

As the class monitor, I felt responsible for calling in my classmates and convincing them to join the chorus. I knew it wouldn’t be easy; some of them were hesitant and gave me skeptical looks, while others ran away. But I wasn’t ready to give up.

With a persuasive tone and genuine enthusiasm, I spoke to my classmates, explaining why it was important for us to participate as a team. I told them that it wasn’t about being the best, but about coming together and enjoying the experience of singing as a group. Slowly, I started to see some students were interested and a few of them promised to give it a try.

Our rehearsals (排练) were intense, filled with laughter, and sometimes frustration. We tried our best to perfect our harmonies and cooperation, but deep down, we still held onto the belief that we would probably end up at the bottom of all-the choirs. In that moment of despair, a boy from our choir whispered, “Are we just asking for humiliation(羞辱)?” The words made our doubts and fears stronger.

But right before it was our turn to step onto the stage, Mrs. Wood, our music teacher, brought us together in a tight group. She looked into our eyes and said firmly, “We are not here to impress; we are here to express.” Her words made all the difference.

With an understanding of the true meaning of our performance, we stepped onto the stage. As the music started, we sang from our hearts. We didn’t worry about being perfect or winning the competition; we focused on expressing our love for music and the joy of singing together.

When the performance ended, our headmaster stepped onto the stage.

The competition results were announced later, and we were awarded a special medal for our team spirit.

When I was 15, I fell in love with the songs when they were first released — Bring Him Home, I Dreamed A Dream and On My Own. Even though I hadn’t read Les Miserables and knew very little about the musical, the songs captured my attention and I happily sang along with enthusiasm and energy whenever I heard them on the radio.

At the age of 17, I watched Les Miserables in a theatre of Vancouver. After getting home, I was really thrilled and announced that I wanted to perform in the musical. Hearing what I said, my parents did nothing but support me, although they considered the thought ridiculous, given that we lived 50 kilometres from the nearest large town, Toowoomba. There was little likelihood of ever having a chance to perform.

But some things are just meant to be. The Toowoomba Choral Society bought the performance rights with the view to perform it. Although I was not a member of the choir, they called for auditions (试镜) and I went along. I had had no experience singing and had never performed in any musicals but I believed in miracles and hoped that there was a place for me somewhere in the chorus.

I tried out for the part of Javert but did not have the range. Little did I know there were a host of parts that needed filling. Fortunately, I was chosen to be in the chorus as well as playing seven roles — ten costume changes in all. It was so exciting to play all the different parts. Rehearsals (排练) started immediately and I got a crash course in singing, acting and dancing. There was so much to learn and as I drove to rehearsals three times a week a little voice would say, “You are in over your head, get out now.”

I really had a hard time rehearsing — first with written texts and sheet music and then without. Personally, I struggled. So much to learn really made me so crazy that I had a strong desire to quit. And the little voice “You are in over your head, get out now.” rang in my ears again.

At that time, my parents’ determined look appeared in my mind.

On the opening night, nervous as I was, I gathered my courage and stepped on the stage.

I spent 15 years trying to make it in the music industry. When I was a teenager, I did any odd job to afford time in a recording studio. I knocked at managers’ doors and sent out demo (录音样带) after demo, but I got nowhere. In 2010, aged 27, I was doing a job in a restaurant when I wrote a song called Dream Goes On. It was a song about never giving up. I just let out all of my frustrations at the keyboard.

Over the next five years, the music career never materialized but I persisted. Then, in 2019, I uploaded Dream Goes On to a music-sharing website. I just wanted someone to notice my music.

Later that year, I received an email out of the blue from Music World from South Korea, requesting a license for the song. They had chosen my song from the millions on the music-sharing website for a theme tune for one of their shows. I was amazed and negotiated a contract for $5,000 for the use of the song and signed up straight away. I was pretty excited, but didn’t think anything more would come of it, so I focused on my job in the restaurant.

This February, Music World organized a musical festival in Seoul and my song Dream Goes On was also chosen as the theme tune for the festival. I watched on YouTube as my song was being played to a huge crowd of people. It was amazing.

After three days of the festival, I was contacted by Music World and they asked if I’d like to go to Seoul to sing Dream Goes On in a concert. They flew me out there the next day. I was welcomed like a celebrity—everyone I met thought I was a big name in England. I had to break the news to them that I wasn’t a pop star.

I had never performed the song live, and hadn’t been on stage for years.

After the concert, I had photographers and journalists battling to interview me.

We call Talent Show the biggest stage in our country. I stood on that huge stage, with my throat dry. As I stared at the audience, I knew this moment could change my life forever. When judges asked my name and I tried to speak,nothing came out. The crowd fell silent, waiting for the words to come. Finally I stuttered(结巴地说) my name and my age. “As you can tell,” I said, “I have a speech disorder…”

I’d love to sing and had already signed up for the school talent show in fourth grade when I started stuttering.Fortunately, most of the kids at my school were kind, and I was rarely made fun of. I tried speech therapy too, but it didn’t help. I feared to sing in the school talent show. Therefore, I decided to practice at home. To my surprise, the words came smoothly when I sang. And then I decided to learn to play the guitar, which was given as a birthday gift by my father.

One afternoon, I walked into the basement, where I kept my musical equipment. My eyes lit on the guitar. I picked it up and started playing. I opened my mouth, and the words came flooding out. Then I wrote a song called I Will Trust,telling the pain IP’d experienced. The next day, I filmed a video of performing the song and posted it online. Hundreds of strangers left comments that I had uplifted them with my music. Ever since, I’ve been writing songs.

Last year, I started college and majored in music production. When I saw Talent Show audition(试唱)announcement pop up on my computer, I wanted to have a try. Several months later, I was standing on that stage, trying to calm my nerves as I introduced myself, “I have a speech impediment.” I said, “It was definitely something that caused me to…” I took a long pause to find the words. “…to hide. But I found that I don’t stutter when I sing.”

Then I began to sing a new song I’d just written.

My performance on Talent Show had a deep influence on me.

As a single mother, I’ve never doubted my daughter Jane’s dream to be a singer on the stage. At an early age, she was crazy about singing. Whenever she had a chance, she would sing to her heart’s content. Her sweet and charming voice tended to get people around attracted to her songs.

Living in a small city, I took several odd jobs, determined to do everything in my power to support her. Soon after Jane attended school, her music teacher Mary noticed her talent by chance and volunteered to give her some guidance on how to sing. Jane practiced so hard that before long she made great progress in singing.

Unfortunately, one noon a year later, Jane was crossing the street when a careless driver knocked her down. She was rushed to hospital. When I hurried there, the doctor told me that my daughter would probably not stand on her own feet. I froze with shock, feeling as if I had been thrown into a dark world. Weak and dizzy, I was about to fall to the ground when someone took hold of me.

It was Mary, who got the news and raced here. She comforted me, saying firmly, “Grace, Jane needs you. You must stay calm and strong.” I nodded. Having calmed down, I entered the ward with Mary.

That night, Jane recovered her consciousness (知觉) and opened her eyes. Holding her hand, I said, “My dear, everything would be fine.” Mary comforted her gently, “I know you are a strong girl, Jane. Don’t worry. We’ll be standing by you.” I was heartbroken to see tears streaming down Jane’s cheeks.

After two months, we returned home from hospital. Her teachers and friends frequently visited her. Jane eventually accepted the fact that she would have to get around in a wheelchair. Never did she refer to the subject of singing again. I knew she was a nice and understanding girl, who was afraid that talking about her original dream would upset the two of us.

One day, however, Mary came with good news.

When the host announced it was Jane’s turn, she was wheeled onto the stage.