In this memory, I’m eight years old. It’s Saturday afternoon, and I’m attending a weekly group class on music theory with my friends at a local music school for children.
About six of us sit in the tiny classroom with a shiny upright piano, waiting for our teacher to arrive. She’s running late today.
“She’s late,” somebody expresses our collective thought aloud.
“When do you think she’ll come?”
“I don’t know.”
“I have an idea,” somebody exclaims with a hint of delight in her voice. “Let’s pretend we’re not here. Let’s surprise her!”
The idea lights up everybody’s face.
“Yeah, let’s do that! Let’s surprise her!”
We quickly turn off the lights and duck under the table to hide. Giggles ripple through the room as we all take the position until we hear a footstep approaching from the outside corridor.
“That’s her!” someone whispers as we all hold our breaths. “Make no sound!”
There is first the sound of the outside door opening and closing with a thud. Then, a few seconds later, the door to our room opens. The silhouette of our teacher appears at the doorway.
“Oh?” The voice coming from the silhouette sounds confused. “Oh…”
Just when she starts to turn around, the person behind the wall next to the entrance jumps out from the dark.
“Ahhh!” Our teachers shrieks, throwing both her hands up.
The lights turn back on, and everybody comes out, exploding with laughter.
“You little naughty ones!” She rasps, still not fully recovering from the shock.
“Did we surprise you?” someone asks, eager to confirm the result of our trick.
“No kidding, you scared me!” our teacher brings her hand to her chest, finally calming down and managing a smile. “I thought I came to a wrong room!”
We all roll with laughter, satisfied that our trick has been a success. Even our teacher cannot help laughing beside herself. She does, however, ask us not to repeat the surprise again in the future.