Personal Narrative: My Band Journey

She was there to make sure that I was okay and asked if she could do anything

At the end of my eighth grade year, I had to choose my classes for the upcoming year. I had taken band three years prior and I was inevitably going to continue on with it, but there were two options for band at Pattonville High School. I had to pick between marching band and concert band. Concert band would be similar to the setting in middle school, which is what I was so adjusted to. Marching band, on the other hand, was a whole new concept. Marching band consisted of moving around the football field while playing music, which on the surface appeared too complicated for me. My brother participated in marching band prior to me, so I already formed an opinion on the activity on my own. I definitely was not going to join the marching band, well at least that was what I thought.

However, that week, I could not be present during practice and most of the Saturday event. The entire week prior, my stomach knotted up as I worried about how they would do on this night as well in the future. As a senior and co-leader, I was burdened with the responsibility of preparing the team. In my head I had a list of everything to do before I left: teach people how to equalize on the soundboard, how to run and create slideshows using ProPresenter, how to balance the stage lights and wall wash, how to play bass guitar, how to sing and so on. There was so much to teach, but so little time. I set out to meet all members one-on-one to discuss their roles in praise team and to also build meaningful relationships with them. I had only taught about half of what I intended when all of a sudden I had to let go of the

I was going to start my band concert, and I was secretly terrified. I gripped my pair of drumsticks in one hand, and with my other hand, I clasped the music. We were only playing one song for this concert, named “Bandorama.” However, for the first time, I got one of the most important parts. It was cymbals, suspended cymbals to be specific, which is a cymbal on a leather string, hooked to a stand. It seems unimportant, but I was playing the same beat for almost the whole song, and that beat was meant to keep the whole band together. So, if I mess up, the whole band does too.

And as soon as I sat down and started to pray out popped a little redhead from one of the clothing aisles, with a pair of jeans as her treat. After I squeeze her to death; backup nearly to death. I had to explain to her that I meant food, and not a $15 pair of pants. I probably should have clarified that earlier but how was I supposed to know she was going shopping through the whole store. She gave me a look that said, ‘why didn't you tell me this earlier.’ I shrugged said, “Sorry”, went to the nearest checkout line, and we got out of there before anything else could happen.

Those days of band during the summer helped me realize many things about myself, I was to gullible, to naive, to childish, many things that fall into that category. Band helped me mature and be responsible, I was no longer the hyperactive child in jr. high, I grew up and changed into something better. I am now more mature than I ever thought I was going to be, I can take on challenges and not be afraid. I have more responsibility now, I am proud to say that I am now section leader for the rest of my high school

There is at least one time in your life when you have the fork in the road. This is a time when I had to decide if I would go to the dance or not. It was the first dance of middle school and I  had to choose only one path because I couldn't go back.  It was a tough decision.

I had my whole life planned out and I knew what the next ten years where going to be like. I was going to get my master’s degree in clinical psychology and then my doctrine degree as well. I had my life planned out and I knew where I was going. However, as we grow as people we meet certain roadblocks within our lives that we must overcome. Sometimes the simplest of ways is not the easiest accessed. Sometimes we must take a different road to bypass the obstacle and this can take us off our path. However, my path has taken me far off my original plan, that I do not recognize the person I am

Had you asked me as a gauche and unkempt eighth grader how I’d be involved in high school, the response probably would have been a shrug hiding the actual existential dread and anxiety which filled me. But now, as I stand in the scorching rays of the summer sun with beads of sweat silently dotting the smooth bars of my marimba, I feel more accomplished than ever. Being in band has been the most drastic experience in my high school career by far. It has been the source of every high and low, from playing my first solo to losing drum line competitions. More importantly, though, it has developed me as a person, teaching me lessons beyond clean buzz rolls and keyboard runs.

I’m interested in Concert Band because they are people that simply love to compose music with one another without knowing them on a personal level. Children are dedicated themselves to be part of a Concert Band that works in harmony, day in and out on perfecting their skills with their instrument. Today is their first time

It wasn’t until about a month in that my band director told my class that there was a solo piece needed on an instrument no one played in our band. She had asked if anyone wanted to learn the instrument and the music. The room was quiet and stayed quiet until another clarinet player asked, “What instrument is it?”

As I cautiously make my way down the corridor on my first day of school I hear a strange noise escaping one of the rooms. Although it sounds like a jumbled mess of instruments I am intrigued, it is the band room and I know I’ll be entering there soon. What I was not aware of is how deeply being a part of high school band would shape me as a person. Looking back on that time is almost surreal considering that I know have been in band up to senior year, have been a section leader, and learning more instruments than one.

Let rewind a little bit and take it back to my freshman year. Good ole Freshie year, was alarming. Starting out with a new band director, Mr. Florjancic that no one has never seen before was scary. I think the first time all of us met him was at a car wash and the few minutes we thought he was just another upperclassmen band geek! We soon realized, oh he was our band director. We had started our first week of practice at the high school, which I didn't know what to do. I personally didn't know anyone or anything I was just a little freshman in a room full of upperclassmen and seniors band members. First week of practice

While preparing for bed, I listed tasks I desired to do the next day. To maximize the short time with our friends, I decided to complete several chores before they woke up. I wrestled over whether I had time to read my Bible in the morning. By the time our friends woke up, the next day, I started some laundry, washed dishes, and made breakfast which delighted my mom and Mrs. Spieler. I admire Mrs. Spieler and consider her a special mentor and it encouraged me to receive praise from her. The only trouble was that I felt conflicted inside about the praise. By my actions, I told God, He wasn’t important.

Around this time, I would stay with my grandparents on the weekends. Sometimes my grandmother (whom I simply call Nanny) would take me and my sister to church. At one point in the service they would always say the Lord’s Prayer, seeing that I didn’t know it off by heart, my grandmother was determined I learn it; she wrote it out, put it in a frame and gave it to me to put on my bedroom wall. Now I had no excuse.