Anyway, I managed to lose that hesitation early on. My father used to take me to the opera once in a while. I loved the dressing up, the drama, and sometimes the music. Other times, though, I felt like I had to sit respectfully and try not to yawn. A lot of this crap is boring as hell. But I was just a kid, so what did I know. Then, one night, about an act or so into Verdi's Ernani, I noticed my father checking his watch. This, from a guy who puts on Der Fliegende Hollander (or however you spell it) to relax! At the interval, he asked if I was liking it. I'm sure he would've stayed, for my benefit, had I declared the show a triumph. But I said "no" and we left. So I got over the "castor oil" thing. You don't have to like it all.
Actually, I was briefly afraid that the whole thing had lost its magic, now that I knew it was okay to be bored, to think a performance (or composer) stunk: I went to a Pagliacci with my school -- hated it. And I saw Gotterdammerung and nearly blew out my ears from yawning so much. I gave up for a while and concentrated on Motorhead. Then my father an I went to Barber of Seville at the Met -- Thomas Hampsen as Figaro -- and I was blown away again (I actually shouted "Bravo!" at Hampsen's curtain call, felt like an idiot and a poseur, and vowed not to do it again. But he did deserve it.)
Everything you liked in high school is bad. Everything your English teacher told you to like is also bad, but for different reasons. If you liked what your English teacher told you to like, you are now teaching English.I missed the whole teaching English thing, but only by thismuch.