Middle School

To tell my full story with the most accuracy, I feel it is pertinent to split each level of my life into multiple blogs. I would have to skip too many events if I was to condense everything into four or five posts. The most integral details are found in the relationships I had with friends and teachers, and the band room, so my posts will mostly focus on those things. My story truly begins in the hallowed halls of John Sevier Middle School.

The summer before my first year at JSMS I was taken to the instrument placement event at the middle school. Each student who wanted to play in the concert band had to test a few instruments to see where their talents would best be utilized. Almost all of the boys wanted to play drums, as it would be the easiest instrument to parlay into a career as a rockstar. I fit right into that stigma. I had taken a few lessons from friends and was sure I would nail the audition. And nail it I did.
Among the notes taken were, "Excellent rhythm and ability to follow tempo changes. Overall: 9.5/10." Needless to say I was ecstatic. It was the first instrument I auditioned on and I had crushed it. But, we were required to try instruments in each family, so I had to waste more time on things I wouldn't be as successful on. The woodwind family auditions will receive no more attention than me telling you they was horrid and embarrassing. The brass family would lead to more of the same, or so I thought.

The late Ron Wilcox, took me into one of the classrooms where he had the instruments and mouthpieces all laid out neatly. We shared some pleasantries, then began the trials. He handed me a trumpet mouthpiece and I scoffed (in my head, mind you). It was way too small for my voluptuous lips. I tried to buzz into it, but was not successful. The french horn and trombone mouthpieces yielded more of the same results. Then I had a break through, sort of.

In Mr.Wilcox's infinite knowledge, he skipped the fourth mouthpiece and grabbed the largest one in the room. He told me to flap my lips and pretend I was blowing out a candle at the same time. It was a very awkward exercise, but when I placed the metal monster to my lips, it produced a sound. I wasn't familiar with the sound, but Mr.Wilcox assured me that I had done well. Among his notes was the comment, "Something special. Overall: 7/10." I asked him what the last one was, and he told me it was a tuba mouthpiece. After a firm hand shake, he escorted me out. That was it. I had done it. Bring on the ladies. I was going to be the next percussionist in the JSMS Concert Band. Or so I thought.

When I had finished with the auditions and the paperwork, I was sent to have a conference with the man in charge, Richard Brown. He had been the director of the band for quite some time and was the final authority on who was placed on what instrument. I handed him my sheet with a beaming smile on my face, and sat back with anticipation. He looked over it carefully, then placed it on his desk under his interlocked fingers.

"Well, you had a couple great auditions here. What would you like to do?"

"I'd like to play the drums," I said.

"That seems to be pretty popular. We already have 10 new percussionists. Is there anything else you'd like to play?" He was stonewalling me. I couldn't believe it.

I blanked. "I don't know, sir."

"It looks like you did pretty well with the tuba. We only have four tuba players. How about that?"

I was weak. "Sure."

"Excellent. Go check one out and I'll look forward to working with you this year." His smile and enthusiasm were oddly infectious.

I left the school in a whirlwind of confusion, with a giant black tuba case rolling behind me. I had never even seen the instrument before that day, but I would be attempting to master it over the next year. Even though I was frustrated and angry then, little did I know, the decision Mr.Brown had made that day would shape the course of the rest of my life.

Today's note: Try to do things for other people just because they're nice to do, not because you want them to owe you a favor. It will always feel better and, in the end, reap better rewards. Karma.