I'm the sacrament chorister in our ward. And I am quite content with that calling. It's simple, easy (for me, anyway) and doesn't require people to actually pay attention to me, so I don't freak out and go into panic attack mode like I would if I had to give a lesson or a talk or anything that involves me speaking solo and everyone else looking at me. Not cool.
So I have this theory that the sole purpose of the sacrament chorister is so that the few people who can't read music know when the intro is over and it;s time to start singing with everyone else and to psych everyone out by singing the extra verses. Seriously, I find few things more amusing than the sound of mumble-humming as people hurriedly re-open their hymnbooks as the chorister has gone on to the rarely sung fourth/fifth/sixth verse. Good times.
Anyway, there is an absolutely adorable baby who always sits in the front row at church and makes sitting in the second row thoroughly enjoyable. And today during one of the hymns I glance down to see him sitting on the bench waving one arm high in the air almost mimicking the 4/4 pattern I was conducting. How darling is that?!?! I consider pulling off the holding in of the giggles and continuing to sing to be a major achievement. :-)
On the other hand, there is bad news to this story - someone, clearly, is watching me while I'm up there. Granted, it's only one person, and granted that one is a seven (eight . . . six . . . help me out, Erin!)-month-old . . . but where there's one, there's bound to be more. Crap.
At least I'm not the RS pres. :-)
P. ost S. cript
I remain convinced that this method would work if one could call loud enough. I just haven't gotten there yet. :-)