My Way to Success

From the day I signed up for the Naumburg Competition, everything changed. I had made a decision to start again, to save my life, and that meant a 360-degree turnaround.
I kept on practicing. An enormous amount of work had to be done in two months. I went from not practicing at all to thirteen hours a day.
I spent two weeks just playing scales. If I thought I sounded bad before, now I sounded worse than awful.
At the time I lived on 72nd Street, close to West End Avenue. I had an apartment with a window the size of a shoebox. I didn't do mylaundry. I left my apartment only to walk to Juilliard─and not onBroadway like everyone else. I walked up Amsterdam Avenue because I didn't want to see anybody, didn't want to run into anybody, didn't want anyone to ask what I was doing.
I stopped going to classes and became a hermit. I even talked Miss DeLay into giving my lesson at night.
My eating habits were awful. I lived on fried sausages, a pint of peanut butter/chocolate ice cream, and a gallon of Coca-Cola every day. That's all I ate for eight weeks.
I was nuts. I was completely obsessed with getting back into shape, with doing well in this competition. If I could, people would know I was still on earth. Not to count me out; to stop asking, “Whatever happened to Nadja?”
The last week before the Naumburg auditions, I couldn't touch the violin. I had worked and worked and worked and worked and then I just couldn't work anymore.
I certainly could have used it. I wasn't as prepared as I should have been. But I simply had to say, “Nadja, you've dedicated yourself to this thing. Ready or not, do your best.”
Fifty violinists from around the world auditioned for the competition on May 25, 26, and 27, 1981. Those that made it past thepreliminaries would go on to the semifinals. Those that passed that stage would go to the finals. In years past, one violinist was chosen as winner and two received second and third place.
On May 26, the day of my audition, I went to the Merkin Concert Hall at 67th Street and Broadway. I waited, played for twenty minutes, and went home. I couldn't tell whether the preliminary judges were impressed or not. I'd find out the next evening.
Maybe subconsciously I was trying to keep busy; that night, when I fried the sausages, I accidentally set my apartment on fire. I grabbed my cat and my violin, and ran out the door. The fire was put out, but everything in my place was wrecked.
Fortunately, the phone was okay and on the evening of May 27, I had the news from Lucy Rowan Mann of Naumburg. Thirteen of us had made it.
Talk about mixed emotions. I was thrilled to be among the thirteen; a group that included established violinists, some of whom had already made records. But it also meant I had to play the next day in the semifinals of the competition.
Everyone entering the competition had been given two lists of concertos. One was a list of standard repertory pieces. The other list was twentieth-century repertory. For our big competition piece, we were to choose from each list and play a movement from one in the semifinals, and a movement from the other in the finals─if we made it that far.
From the standard repertory list, I chose the Tchaikovsky Concerto. I had been playing the Tchaik for three years, so it was a good piece for me.
From the twentieth-century list, I chose the Prokofiev G minor Concerto. I had never played it onstage before.
My goal had been just passing the auditions, but now my thought pattern began to change. If I wanted a sliver of a chance of advancing again, my brain said, “Play your strong piece first.”
Logically, I should play the Tchaikovsky in the semifinals just to make it to the next stage. Who cared if that left me with a piece I probably wouldn't play as well in the finals of the competition? It'd be a miracle to get that far.
There wouldn't be more than seven violinists chosen for the final round, and if I were in the top seven of an international group, that was plenty good enough.
The semifinals were held on May 28 in Merkin Concert Hall. You were to play for thirty minutes: your big piece first, then the judges would ask to hear another.
There was a panel of eight judges. They had a piece of paper with my choices of the Tchaikovsky and the Prokofiev in front of them. “Which would you like to play?” they asked.
I said meekly, “Prokofiev.”
My brain and all the logic in the world had said, “Play your strong piece.” My heart said, “Go for it all. Play your weak piece now, save Tchaikovsky for the finals.”
Maybe I don't listen to logic so easily after all.
My good friend, the pianist Sandra Rivers, had been chosen as accompanist for the competition. She knew I was nervous. There had been a very short time to prepare; I was sure there'd be memory slips, that I'd blank out in the middle and the judges would throw me out. My hands were like ice.
The first eight measures of the Prokofiev don't have accompaniment. The violin starts the piece alone. So I started playing.
I got through the first movement and Sandra said later my face was as white as snow. She said I was so tense, I was beyond shaking. Just a solid brick.
It was the best I'd ever played it. No memory slips at all. Technically, musically, it was there.
I finished it thinking, “Have I sold my soul for this? Is the devil going to visit me at midnight? How come it went so well?”
I didn't know why, but often I do my best under the worst of circumstances. I don't know if it's guts or a determination not to disappoint people. Who knows what it is, but it came through for me, and I thank God for that.
As the first movement ended, the judges said, “Thank you.” Then they asked for the Carmen Fantasy.
I turned and asked Sandy for an A, to retune, and later she said the blood was just rushing back into my face.
I whispered, “Sandy, I made it. I did it.”
“Yeah,” she whispered back, kiddingly, “too bad you didn't screw up. Maybe next time.”
At that point I didn't care if I did make the finals because I had played the Prokofiev so well. I was so proud of myself for coming through.
I needed a shot in the arm; that afternoon I got evicted. While I was at Merkin, my moped had blown up. For my landlord, that was the last straw.
What good news. I was completely broke and didn't have the next month's rent anyway. The landlord wanted me out that day. I said, “Please, can I have two days. I might get into the finals, can I please go through this first?”
I talked him into it, and got back to my place in time for the phone call. “Congratulations, Nadja,”“they said. “You have made the finals.”
I had achieved the ridiculously unlikely, and I had saved my best piece. Yet part of me was sorry. I wanted it to be over already. In the three days from the preliminaries to the semifinals, I lost eight pounds. I was so tired of the pressure.
There was a fellow who advanced to the finals with me, an old, good friend since Pre-College. Competition against friends is inevitable in music, but I never saw competition push a friendship out the window so quickly. By the day of the finals, I hated him and he hated me. Pressure was that intense.
The finals were held on May 29 at Carnegie Hall and open to the public. I was the fourth violinist of the morning, then there was a lunch break, and three more violinists in the afternoon.
I played my Tchaikovsky, Saint-Sa‘ns’s Havanaise, and Ravel's Tzigane for the judges: managers, famous violinists, teachers, and critics. I went on stage at five past eleven and finished at noon. Those fifty-five minutes seemed like three days.
I was so relieved when I finished playing; I was finished! It's impossible to say how happy I was to see the dressing room. I went out for lunch with my friends. It was like coming back from the grave. We laughed and joked and watched TV.
As I returned to Carnegie Hall to hear the other violinists, I realized I'd made a big mistake: they might ask for recalls. A recall is when they can't decide between two people and they want you to play again. It's been done; it's done all the time in competitions. No way was I in shape to go onstage and play again.
In the late afternoon, the competition was over. Everybody had finished playing. Quite luckily─no recalls.
The judges deliberated for an hour. The tension in the air was unbelievable. All the violinists were sitting with their little circle of friends. I had my few friends around me, but no one was saying much now.
Finally, the Naumburg Foundation president Robert Mann came on stage.
“It's always so difficult to choose ...” he began.
“Every year we hold this competition,” Robert Mann said. “And in the past, we've awarded three prizes. This year we've elected to only have one prize, the first prize.”
My heart sank. Nothing for me. Not even Miss Congeniality.
“We have found,” Mann went on, “that second place usually brings great dismay to the artist because they feel like a loser. We don't want anyone here to feel like a loser. Every finalist will receive five hundred dollars except the winner, who will receive three thousand dollars.”
And then he repeated how difficult it was to choose, how well everyone had played ...dah, dah, dah.
I was looking down at the floor.  
“The winner is ...”
And he said my name.
A friend next to me said, “Nadja, I think you won!”
I went numb. My friends pulled me up and pointed me toward the stage. It was a long walk because I had slipped into a seat in the back. Sitting up in front was my old friend. I would have to walk right past him and I was dreading it, but before I could, he got up and stopped me.
He threw his arms around me and I threw my arms around him. I kept telling him how sorry I was. I was holding him and started to cry, saying, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” I didn't want to lose, but I really didn't want him to lose either. And he was holding me and saying, “Don't be sorry. I'm so proud of you.” It was over, and we would be friends again.
I took my bow, then ran to Juilliard. Ten blocks uptown, one block west, to give Miss DeLay the news. She could be proud of me now, too.
Suddenly, everything was clear. Playing the violin is what I'd do with my life. Heaven handed me a prize: “You've been through a lot, kid. Here's an international competition.”
Everything had changed when I prepared for the Naumburg, and now everything changed again. I made my first recording. Between September 1981 and May 1982, I played a hundred concerts in America, made one trip to Europe, then two months of summer festivals. And people asked me back.
There was a great deal of anxiety playing in Europe for the first time. But I was able to rely on my self-confidence to pull me through.
Self-confidence onstage doesn't mean a lack of nerves backstage. The stakes had increased. This wasn't practice anymore, this was my life. I'd stare into a dressing-room mirror and say, “Nadja, people have bought tickets, hired baby-sitters, you've got to calm down; go out there and prove yourself.”
Every night I'd prove myself again. My life work had truly begun

1. 1.

   In a gesture to prepare for the competition, Nadja did all the following except _________

   1. A.
      preoccupying herself in practice
   2. B.
      trying to carry out her deeds secretly
   3. C.
      abandoning going to school for classes
   4. D.
      consuming the best food to get enough energy
2. 2.

   How many violinists does the passage mention advanced to the finals?

   1. A.
      Four
   2. B.
      Five
   3. C.
      Six
   4. D.
      Seven
3. 3.

   After Nadja finished playing at the finals, she went out for a while and when she came back to hear the other violinists she realized she had made a mistake because _________

   1. A.
      she forgot that there was going to be a recall
   2. B.
      she didn’t get hold of the permission to leave
   3. C.
      chances were that she had to replay and she was off guard
   4. D.
      there was another play she had to take part in in the afternoon

I cheated on a unit test in math class this morning during second period with Mr. Burke. Afterward, I was too sick to eat lunch just thinking about it.
I came straight home from school, went to my room, and lay on the floor trying to decide whether it would be better to run away from home now or after supper. Mostly I wished I was dead. It wasn't even an accident that I cheated.
Yesterday Mr. Burke announced there'd be a unit test and anyone who didn't pass would have to come to school on Saturday, most particularly me, since I didn't pass the last unit test. I did plan to study just to prove to him that I'm plenty smart—which I am mostly—except in math.
Anyway, I got my desk ready to study on . Just when I was ready to work, Nicho came into my room with our new rabbit and it jumped on my desk and knocked the flashcards all over the floor. What a mess! Nicho and I finally took the rabbit outside but then Philip came to my room and also Marty from next door and before long it was dinner.
After dinner my father said I could watch a special on television if I'd done all my homework. Of course I said I had. That was the beginning. I felt terrible telling my father a lie about the homework.
It was nine o'clock when I got up to my room and that was too late to study for the unit test so I lay in my bed with the light off and decided what I would do the next day when I was in Mr. Burke's math class not knowing the 8- and 9-times tables. So, you see, the cheating was planned after all.
The next day, I'd go into class as usual, acting like things were going just great. I'd sit down next to Stanley Plummer—he is so smart in math it makes you sick—and from time to time, I'd glance over at his paper to copy the answers.
Lying on the floor of my room, I begin to think that probably I've been bad all along. It just took this math test to clinch it. I'll probably never tell the truth again. I tell my mother I'm sick when she calls me to come down for dinner. She doesn't believe me, but puts me to bed anyhow. I lie there in the early winter darkness wondering what terrible thing I'll be doing next when my father comes in and sits down on my bed.
"What's the matter?" he asks. "I've got a stomachache," I say. Luckily, it's too dark to see his face. "Is that all?" "Yeah." "Mommy says you've been in your room since school." "I was sick there too," I say. "She thinks something happened today and you're upset." That's the thing that really drives me crazy about my mother. She knows things sitting inside my head the same as if I was turned inside out.
"Well," my father says. I can tell he doesn't believe me. "My stomach is feeling sort of upset." I hedge. "Okay," he says and he pats my leg and gets up.
Just as he shuts the door to my room I call out to him in a voice I don't even recognize as my own. "How come?" he calls back not surprised or anything. So I tell him I cheated on this math test. To tell the truth, I'm pretty much surprised at myself. I didn't plan to tell him anything.
He doesn't say anything at first and that just about kills me. I'd be fine if he'd spank me or something. And then he says I'll have to call Mr. Burke. It's not what I had in mind. "Now?" I ask surprised. "Now," he says. He turns on the light and pulls off my covers. "I'm not going to," I say.
But I do it. I call Mr. Burke, and I tell him exactly what happened, even that I decided to cheat the night before the test. He says I'll come on Saturday to take another test, which is okay with me, and I thank him a whole lot for being understanding and all.
"Today I thought I was turning into a criminal," I tell my father when he turns out my light. Sometimes my father kisses me good night and sometimes he doesn't. I never know. But tonight he does.
【小题1】After the author cheated on the math test, he felt ____________.

I cheated on a unit test in math class this morning during second period with Mr. Burke. Afterward, I was too sick to eat lunch just thinking about it.

I came straight home from school, went to my room, and lay on the floor trying to decide whether it would be better to run away from home now or after supper. Mostly I wished I was dead. It wasn't even an accident that I cheated.

Yesterday Mr. Burke announced there'd be a unit test and anyone who didn't pass would have to come to school on Saturday, most particularly me, since I didn't pass the last unit test. I did plan to study just to prove to him that I'm plenty smart—which I am mostly—except in math.

Anyway, I got my desk ready to study on . Just when I was ready to work, Nicho came into my room with our new rabbit and it jumped on my desk and knocked the flashcards all over the floor. What a mess! Nicho and I finally took the rabbit outside but then Philip came to my room and also Marty from next door and before long it was dinner.

After dinner my father said I could watch a special on television if I'd done all my homework. Of course I said I had. That was the beginning. I felt terrible telling my father a lie about the homework.

It was nine o'clock when I got up to my room and that was too late to study for the unit test so I lay in my bed with the light off and decided what I would do the next day when I was in Mr. Burke's math class not knowing the 8- and 9-times tables. So, you see, the cheating was planned after all.

The next day, I'd go into class as usual, acting like things were going just great. I'd sit down next to Stanley Plummer—he is so smart in math it makes you sick—and from time to time, I'd glance over at his paper to copy the answers.

Lying on the floor of my room, I begin to think that probably I've been bad all along. It just took this math test to clinch it. I'll probably never tell the truth again. I tell my mother I'm sick when she calls me to come down for dinner. She doesn't believe me, but puts me to bed anyhow. I lie there in the early winter darkness wondering what terrible thing I'll be doing next when my father comes in and sits down on my bed.

"What's the matter?" he asks. "I've got a stomachache," I say. Luckily, it's too dark to see his face. "Is that all?" "Yeah." "Mommy says you've been in your room since school." "I was sick there too," I say. "She thinks something happened today and you're upset." That's the thing that really drives me crazy about my mother. She knows things sitting inside my head the same as if I was turned inside out.

"Well," my father says. I can tell he doesn't believe me. "My stomach is feeling sort of upset." I hedge. "Okay," he says and he pats my leg and gets up.

Just as he shuts the door to my room I call out to him in a voice I don't even recognize as my own. "How come?" he calls back not surprised or anything. So I tell him I cheated on this math test. To tell the truth, I'm pretty much surprised at myself. I didn't plan to tell him anything.

He doesn't say anything at first and that just about kills me. I'd be fine if he'd spank me or something. And then he says I'll have to call Mr. Burke. It's not what I had in mind. "Now?" I ask surprised. "Now," he says. He turns on the light and pulls off my covers. "I'm not going to," I say.

But I do it. I call Mr. Burke, and I tell him exactly what happened, even that I decided to cheat the night before the test. He says I'll come on Saturday to take another test, which is okay with me, and I thank him a whole lot for being understanding and all.

"Today I thought I was turning into a criminal," I tell my father when he turns out my light. Sometimes my father kisses me good night and sometimes he doesn't. I never know. But tonight he does.

1.After the author cheated on the math test, he felt ____________.

A．frightened because he might be caught

B．excited that he had succeeded

C．pleased that nobody knew it

D．unhappy because he had done something wrong

2.By “It wasn't even an accident that I cheated”, the author means that ________.

A．he had planned not to study before the test

B．he decided to cheat when he knew there was going to be a test

C．he decided to cheat after he had wasted the whole evening

D．he had planned to cheat with Plummer before the test

3.The author’ mother often drives him crazy because _____-.

A．She really knows what he is thinking

B．she was very strict with him

C．she doesn’t believe him

D．she asks him to come down for dinner

4.After he was informed of what he had done, the father _______.

A．scolded the author severely

B．didn’t say anything and left

C．called Mr. Burke immediately

D．let the author make a call to Mr. Burke

5.The author’s father kissed the author good night because ________-.

A．he had done something unusual

B．he promised to study math harder

C．he was willing to take a make-up test

D．he realized his mistake and had the courage to admit it

I cheated on a unit test in math class this morning during second period with Mr. Burke. Afterward, I was too sick to eat lunch just thinking about it.
I came straight home from school, went to my room, and lay on the floor trying to decide whether it would be better to run away from home now or after supper. Mostly I wished I was dead. It wasn't even an accident that I cheated.
Yesterday Mr. Burke announced there'd be a unit test and anyone who didn't pass would have to come to school on Saturday, most particularly me, since I didn't pass the last unit test. I did plan to study just to prove to him that I'm plenty smart—which I am mostly—except in math.
Anyway, I got my desk ready to study on . Just when I was ready to work, Nicho came into my room with our new rabbit and it jumped on my desk and knocked the flashcards all over the floor. What a mess! Nicho and I finally took the rabbit outside but then Philip came to my room and also Marty from next door and before long it was dinner.
After dinner my father said I could watch a special on television if I'd done all my homework. Of course I said I had. That was the beginning. I felt terrible telling my father a lie about the homework.
It was nine o'clock when I got up to my room and that was too late to study for the unit test so I lay in my bed with the light off and decided what I would do the next day when I was in Mr. Burke's math class not knowing the 8- and 9-times tables. So, you see, the cheating was planned after all.
The next day, I'd go into class as usual, acting like things were going just great. I'd sit down next to Stanley Plummer—he is so smart in math it makes you sick—and from time to time, I'd glance over at his paper to copy the answers.
Lying on the floor of my room, I begin to think that probably I've been bad all along. It just took this math test to clinch it. I'll probably never tell the truth again. I tell my mother I'm sick when she calls me to come down for dinner. She doesn't believe me, but puts me to bed anyhow. I lie there in the early winter darkness wondering what terrible thing I'll be doing next when my father comes in and sits down on my bed.
"What's the matter?" he asks. "I've got a stomachache," I say. Luckily, it's too dark to see his face. "Is that all?" "Yeah." "Mommy says you've been in your room since school." "I was sick there too," I say. "She thinks something happened today and you're upset." That's the thing that really drives me crazy about my mother. She knows things sitting inside my head the same as if I was turned inside out.
"Well," my father says. I can tell he doesn't believe me. "My stomach is feeling sort of upset." I hedge. "Okay," he says and he pats my leg and gets up.
Just as he shuts the door to my room I call out to him in a voice I don't even recognize as my own. "How come?" he calls back not surprised or anything. So I tell him I cheated on this math test. To tell the truth, I'm pretty much surprised at myself. I didn't plan to tell him anything.
He doesn't say anything at first and that just about kills me. I'd be fine if he'd spank me or something. And then he says I'll have to call Mr. Burke. It's not what I had in mind. "Now?" I ask surprised. "Now," he says. He turns on the light and pulls off my covers. "I'm not going to," I say.
But I do it. I call Mr. Burke, and I tell him exactly what happened, even that I decided to cheat the night before the test. He says I'll come on Saturday to take another test, which is okay with me, and I thank him a whole lot for being understanding and all.
"Today I thought I was turning into a criminal," I tell my father when he turns out my light. Sometimes my father kisses me good night and sometimes he doesn't. I never know. But tonight he does

1. 1.

   After the author cheated on the math test, he felt______.

   1. A.
      frightened because he might be caught
   2. B.
      excited that he had succeeded
   3. C.
      pleased that nobody knew it
   4. D.
      unhappy because he had done something wrong
2. 2.

   By “It wasn't even an accident that I cheated”, the author means that______.

   1. A.
      he had planned not to study before the test
   2. B.
      he decided to cheat when he knew there was going to be a test
   3. C.
      he decided to cheat after he had wasted the whole evening
   4. D.
      he had planned to cheat with Plummer before the test
3. 3.

   The author’ mother often drives him crazy because______.

   1. A.
      She really knows what he is thinking
   2. B.
      she was very strict with him
   3. C.
      she doesn’t believe him
   4. D.
      she asks him to come down for dinner
4. 4.

   After he was informed of what he had done, the father ______.

   1. A.
      scolded the author severely
   2. B.
      didn’t say anything and left
   3. C.
      called Mr. Burke immediately
   4. D.
      let the author make a call to Mr. Burke
5. 5.

   The author’s father kissed the author good night because ______.

   1. A.
      he had done something unusual
   2. B.
      he promised to study math harder
   3. C.
      he was willing to take a make-up test
   4. D.
      he realized his mistake and had the courage to admit it