Week Five hit hard. Embarrassingly early, in fact: my Week Five Friday was one of those days stacked with task upon task, following from an already draining backlog of prior social events. In any other world, this would be drastically unsustainable. However, every Friday, I have one non-negotiable slot in my diary that I can look forward to, even in the face of sheer physical and emotional exhaustion. At 5pm, I hit the college music rooms, set up a Teams call and begin my weekly singing lesson.

I’m well aware that the fact I take singing lessons sounds preposterous. I can see the picture in everyone’s mind: perfected arpeggio warmups and uniform belting of ever-impressive high notes, just for the sake of proving you can. But, in the words of late X-Factor icon Ariel Burdett, my teacher is a more holistic vocal coach. Okay, sure, that can be equally preposterous. But I don’t mind being preposterous if it gives me a little rejuvenation throughout the Cambridge term.

“I don’t mind being preposterous if it gives me a little rejuvenation throughout the Cambridge term”

My singing teacher and I exchange our greetings and I fill her in on the above trials and tribulations. Already, her response hits me with a reminder of life beyond the Cambridge bubble: the chaos of my schedule, which would normally be met with the other equally frenetic itineraries of my friends, is instead recognised for its madness. My teacher acknowledges it all, reminding me to be proud of what I’ve achieved this week. On occasion, she even forces me to repeat that pride back to her, an initially awkward practice. But why is that so? We should be proud of ourselves for standing upright after attending contact hours and committee events, making time for friends and being functional human beings on top of the Cambridge schedule. Just because we are surrounded by fellow ambitious people, doesn’t mean our commitment is any less commendable.

“We should be proud of ourselves for standing upright after attending contact hours and committee events, making time for friends and being functional human beings”

After a healthy dose of verbal processing, we tick some absolute classics off of the holistic vocal coach bingo card. I’m tasked with singing vowels of increasing pitch in a way that resonates most with given body parts. Indeed, this task seems absurd – how can the feelings in my ankles be represented by sustaining a high C? But you lean into it, try and pick apart the sensation in that joint, wondering whether a vibrato tail-off would accurately depict it. Slowly, you feel this wave of self-connection; you observe and care for that aching shoulder or growling stomach. It turns out these signals have been calling to you for a while; you’ve just been too busy to listen. It starts to explain some of the week’s emotions, too – when your body is twinged with tension, it’s not long before those strains take a psychological hold. It’s much easier to tend to these issues when you know what they are, before they become unsurmountable.

We then move to working on a song, a rendition of Sleep Token’s ‘Damocles’. I see the picture of how this song can serve me – the vulnerability of the verses speaks to my soul at that moment, the dynamic shifts between fragility in the opening lines and full-bodied, raw belts in the post-chorus. Still, I initially struggle to ground myself in this track – it’s especially taunting to hit the line “come up for air and choke on it all” after mistiming your breath management. But, for the first time in a little while, coming across such a hurdle doesn’t fill me with dread. Sure, it’s a harsh reminder of the vitality of self-care – there’s no way I can work to my best ability if I’m unsettled, distracted or burnt out – but it’s resolvable. I pause, breathe, re-run at a slowed pace and already notice immediate improvement.

“She reminds me, it’s not a case of things “happening”, it’s a product of the work I have put in”

I’m even taken aback by where my voice is taking me. I have a toolkit of tones, techniques and dynamics at my disposal to embellish each line as I see fit. The week before this, I had been running through Raye’s ‘WHERE IS MY HUSBAND! ’, one of the most challenging vocal marathons I had ever undertaken. I’d had to craft each riff note by note, breaking it down then gradually picking up pace until I had achieved a seamless run. During ‘Damocles’, I found myself being able to scatter these melodic ornaments with new-found control.

My teacher asks me how I feel about the way I performed the piece. I’m satisfied yet also in mild shock at what has happened. But, as she reminds me, it’s not a case of things “happening”, it’s a product of the work I have put in. I have spent many years developing my instrument, training my muscle memory across styles and genres. I’m not just achieving these skills now by magic or luck.

Singing lessons are somewhat of an allegory for learning at Cambridge. Self-care is vital – all of my best assignments are the ones I have produced while maintaining a healthy work-life balance. Once you set that foundation, the learning curve is steep, but with dedication (both to your work and to yourself), it all sticks in good time. It’s now just time that we started acknowledging our achievements before moving to the next thing.

So, are you proud of yourself?