It was time for Christmas Cantata and I decided that I wasn’t going to stand in the background again. My father had told me that I had an angelic voice each time I gave him an unsolicited impromptu acapella. I believed him. And now if anybody told me I wasn’t talented, I quietly laughed at their jealousy.

I was therefore in complete shock when I was made to blend my voice with the voices of untalented singers during Christmas cantata in S1. I looked on as people who didn’t sound as good as I knew I did get solos. I puffed and silently scorned the soloists as I swayed in the back, watching them do ordinary versions of songs with their ordinary voices.

But now I was in S2 and I was going to give the people what they had been long denied; the opportunity to hear me sing. I knew that I wasn’t going to be given a solo unless I asked. But to ask to be given a solo was to be proud and that was definitely against my Christian principles.

I decided to be subtle about it by singing louder than everyone in the choir during practice. It didn’t work. The choir leader stopped the song midway and said that some of us were singing too loud and that it was spoiling the choir dynamic. She said that while looking in my direction.

I was shocked and furious. My voice couldn’t possibly spoil anything. In fact by singing loud, I was covering up all the bad voices in the choir. But I didn’t speak my mind because my humility prevented me from making other people feel bad about their lack of talent.

Still, I knew that I needed to find a way to make the choir leader recognise my talent. So I decided to sing along with the soloists, a little quiet but loud enough for her to hear the unprecedented quality of my voice.

Once again she shot me down. She stopped the song midway and told us that we were supposed to stay quiet and sway while soloists sang.

At this point, I finally knew that the choir leader was directly attacking me. And there was only one reasonable explanation for that; she was jealous of my talent. I was filled with so much anger that my air passage was clogged with a lump. I decided that she wasn’t going to hold me back from being a star.

I stood and sang and swayed with the untalented people through the songs. But I was waiting for the last song to create a lasting impression on the students that were bound to become my fans.

When it was time for the last song, I felt a cold shiver pass through my body. I thought it was excitement but really, it was common sense just trying to subtly let me know I was about to do something stupid.

I walked to the centre of the stage, closed my eyes and started to sing with all my might. I showcased my ability to switch from sounding like Mariah Carey to sounding like Beyoncé. Everyone erupted into uncontrollable bouts of laughter. I was confused.

It wasn’t until the next day when I heard a recording done by a student news-reporter that I finally learnt of the uncanny resemblance between my singing voice and the bleating of a sheep.