Band. Not exactly everyone’s idea of cool. I absolutely loved it though, in middle
school anyway. In middle school, band
was pretty cool but stage band was the cream of the crop. Even though stage band had extra practices
and had the pressure of being looked up to, we got to play the best music. Fun jazz songs like Proud Mary and the Theme from
Shaft were usually much more entertaining than the usual band songs. Stage band comprised of both 7th
and 8th graders; it was not common for 7th graders to
even see 8th graders during the school day. This made stage band especially cool but also
added pressure to perform well. By far
the best thing about stage band was the performance at Dollywood, an amusement
park a few hours away from my middle school.
The trip was the first time I was away from my parents by more than a
few miles. It gave me freedom and full
time with friends, and I strengthened my relationship with my peers, my
generation. This trip was a rite of
passage.
First
step, make it into stage band. This
wasn’t hard. I was better than most of
the students playing trombone. When I
was accepted, it was an achievement, but not one I was extremely proud of. The harder part of stage band was doing well
in practices. This is when I, a 7th
grader, placed in a band with the 8th graders. I went from third chair trombone in the
normal band to last chair in stage band.
I was self-conscious to play in this setting by myself. The band instructor, when fed up with how
crapily we were playing, often demanded that each of us, one by one, play a section. This was embarrassing since stage band music
is usually more difficult than band music, which I excelled in. Sometimes I would stumble on the notes and I
felt like the weakest link. All I needed
was more practice. We got plenty of it,
and by the time it all clicked together, I was having a lot of fun. This was not the toughest hurdle I had to
leap, however.
My
mother was. I had to get permission from
Mom and, of course, her money. I had no
money to speak of, and any money that I may have had was not at my discretion
to spend on whatever I wanted. The first
day I found out about the trip, I begged my mother to let me go. I wasn’t even able to go yet, since the trip
I had heard about was before I had even made it into stage band. I was a full year ahead. I warned her, “I AM going on this trip,”
trying to show my “power” over her. It
gave me great pleasure that after a year of reminding her, I had her permission
to go to Dollywood. I had won! I felt that I had control over her. I fought through persistence and triumphed.
A
few months later we boarded the bus. We
had been practicing the weeks before in preparation for the performance. I don’t think the performance was at the
forefront of most of our minds. We were
excited to be away from family and surrounded by friends. On the bus everyone sat as far as they could
from the front of the bus. The front was
where all the chaperones and teachers sat, the adults. Separation was key. No one our age wanted to mingle with old
people. We wanted to have fun with our
own generation, shape our own rite of passage with each other.
As
we arrived at Dollywood our teacher was lecturing us, no, more like warning us
to behave and be professional during the performance. I stepped out of the warm bus onto a chilly
parking lot; it was late fall. I
anticipated a small crowd to gather while we were playing, but there wasn’t
anyone. We took a short walk to the
entrance and we set up just within the parks limits. We began to play. Midway through the first song our first
listener stood in front of us. She
probably thought it was cute that a group of young middle schoolers were
struggling to keep a beat. It was getting
cold and we were all distracted. We had
never played outside the comfort of our own school, and we couldn’t help but
think about the near future where we would be free to roam about Dollywood. We finished up our last song and our
instructor congratulated us. We packed
up our instruments and chairs and stands as fast as we could.
Once
everything was packed and into the bus, some of us started to sprint toward the
entrance of the theme park. Our
instructor had to reel us back in to lay out the rules. There were always rules. Only when we were not with any of the
chaperones would we feel freedom. She
paused for a couple seconds, messing with us.
Then, “OK, go on.” We all
sprinted as fast as we could. I didn’t
even know where I was going since I had never been to Dollywood before. Somehow we all ended up at the Tennessee
Tornado, my first rollercoaster. I
slowed my run as I approached the contraption.
I was admittedly scared. The last
time I had even been to a carnival was when I was seven and that time I had wet
myself with fear. This time though, I was
determined to conquer this fear. This
time there was more excitement mixed in with the fear, and I knew I was about
to have a great, fun time. At that
moment I had graduated from the scared little kid not able to ride rollercoasters
to the brave 7th grader that had wrangled a rollercoaster and used
it as his enjoyment.
Whether
one thinks band is cool or not, we all have our own adventures or rituals that
put us through to the next step. This
trip taken with my stage band was just one of the many steps I will take
throughout my life. This journey threw
me into situations I had never encountered and showed me a passage to a new
independence I had not yet discovered. I
improved my musical ability with practice, was persistent with my mother, spent
time away from family, rode in a rollercoaster and enjoyed time amongst friends. All of these proved that I was a maturing
human being to both myself and my peers.
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