Personal Narrative: My Jazz Band

George Helmholtz, as the head of the music department at Lincoln High School, is very determined with his regular students and the gifted musicians of the band. Each semester and year at school he dreams of “leading as fine a band as there was on

I pressed down hard on each key, knowing that if I did not my fingers would slip. I had decided not to do vibrato, knowing that I sounded better without it. I played the very best I could, I looked up and my friends were smiling from the other side of the room. Mr. Heggins was impressed, he said I had improved faster than any player that year. My fellow saxophonist were wide eyed and surprised that I gotten better. After all this I was certain I would get that honor band sheet. I had worked so hard and now it would be worth it. I waited for Mr. Heggins to hand me the sheet, but he didn't. When this happened I knew what it meant. He turned to me and said “don't let this discourage you, but why don’t you try again next

“Are you sure this is the one you’d like?” my father asked me. Little did I know how much happiness this saxophone would bring me. I still remember walking into the sweltering upper school cafeteria awaiting to choose the instrument of my choosing. I saw all of the new, shiny instruments but only one instrument jumped out to me, the alto saxophone. It might be all of the pearly, white buttons or the shiny, metallic gold finish but this instrument was for me. As soon as I laid my eyes on it I knew I had to have it. How was I supposed to know that in the coming years, I would grow as a person and develop into a tenor saxophone player for MHS?

I have been in band for six years. I have been in the Northglenn High school Performance Ensemble for three years. I first picked up a flute when I was just an anxiety-ridden 12-year-old who became flustered talking to anyone who I hadn’t known for over a year. I preferred to stay in very tight knit groups where everyone had been friends for five plus years. I made the decision to stay in band when I realized I had made new friends without any effort (an occurrence I had never experienced), and on top of that, I was having a great time. At this stage in my life, my family was experiencing a lot of issues. I practically lived in the hospital waiting room my entire sixth grade year; that newfound friendship meant all that more to me. I officially decided to remain in band and join marching band when I was 14 with much encouragement from my band teacher and the promise of being able to spend more time with my newfound best friend. The summer before freshman year was spent marching on a field in grueling heat with kids who all already knew each other; the prospects of new friendship didn’t look too great… My anxiety had yet to subside but, I was having the time of my life. As the years have gone by, I’ve evolved and grown with those kids who I once was terrified to talk to. They are very much

Instead they picked the first chair violist, which I probably should have guessed would happen. The only other group that was going was a cello group, that was trying to find a fourth member. At this point I had only been playing cello for about a summer, but I was thrown into this cello group… and given the first part, the melody. So I was nervous for a number of reasons, especially since my A string broke the night before while I was practicing. The rest of the day went by as a blur, I only remember the horror at having to sight read some pretty difficult music in bass clef, which I hardly knew how to read. Then finally, it came time to

The marching band has also felt like a home away from home. If I wasn’t at home with my parents, I was on the band field. While being in the marching band at my high school, my long-term goal was to become their drum major for my last two years. I wanted to be the drum major that would cause the band members to put every ounce of passion into performing the show. Once I decided this during my freshman year, I put my heart and soul into my band. I stepped up to any work my band director needed help with. Whether it was fundraising or running OMEA (Ohio Music Education Association) events or lining the band field, I was there to show my band director I was ready to be a leader. My setback came when I didn't achieve section leader for the flutes

My past has had lots of good times and has had some down right shitty a.f. times. But it’s in the past, so I’ll try not bringing up those memories. So let’s start in the beginning. It was 6:00am at Hamot hospital in Erie,PA, and all of a suddenly you here a huge “OOOUUUCCCHHH!!!!!!!!!”, then badabing badaboom it was 6:01am and I was born. Apparently when I was born I was very yellow looking. Nothing was wrong with me I was just born yellow. After a couple months I started growing out of it, and eventually turned the color I am now, which after lots of discussion and debates with people it has been determined that I’m almost the inside of an almond color. Anyway, after the hospital I lived with my Mom and my Grandmother at her old house in Erie.

It was just before our winter concert of 2017, and I had my first jazz band solo ever being performed in front of my classmates, community, and family. It was in the song “The Little Drummer Boy” and I had been working for weeks trying to get this solo perfect. Everyday I would come home and work for at least an hour on it to get it perfect, but it just wasn’t happening. Eventually, the day before the concert I still didn’t have the solo perfect, so I practiced for about three hours and it had only gotten a little bit better. The day of the concert happened and I practiced the solo for two hours straight the morning of the afternoon concert. I hadn’t even thought about wearing my face out and not being able to play the solo. By now, the concert

In the weeks before Dinner Theatre I knew I wanted to perform a solo. I was finally starting to overcome my own personal anxiety and my confidence was higher than it had ever been. I picked out the song quickly and I already knew it by heart, but singing it alone in my bedroom was completely different than performing it in front of a full auditorium two nights in a row. That’s when the reality of what I was doing finally sank in. I had performed with the chorus more times than I could count, but I hadn’t performed completely alone in years.

One difficult situation I faced was during an exam for choir last year. Our exam was to sing in a small group in front of the entire class. The reason this was difficult for me was that I have terrible anxiety about singing alone in front of people. While I knew that this would be a difficult task, I refused to accept defeat. For almost two months I practiced constantly hoping that if I knew the song well enough I would be able to get through the exam. I chose to not tell my choir teach how petrified I was of singing with only one other person with me. Ultimately this turned out to be a huge mistake because when the moment came for my partner and I to sing the shaking began. I started having a panic attack in front of my class and in the end

After waiting an hour, my embarrassment and humiliation inclined to anger and determination. The incessant, irritating beeping of the emergency alarm provided a wonderful contrast to the calm, mellifluous sounds the band was producing, as I strode to confront my band director. My false confidence shattered; the alarm did my job for me, disrupting practice and ending my boredom. Normally, my director would continue rehearsing through injuries and fire drills, but promised to evacuate us after just one more repetition. After three runs of the ballad, we retreated to the school and sixty of us sat cramped in my director's dark office. Rock-paper-scissors tournaments and sparknoting occupied the first 12 minutes of the drill, but mass hysteria characterized the next 8. Apparently, there was a gas leak in the chemistry lab and a humorously difficult English test. Only one of those proved to be true, unfortunately the science department was safe and methane

This is when I see the wide smiles of the band, this is when I know I get to go home and jump on my warm, soft, cozy bed. Getting set at the “beginning of the show” and trying not to mess up; so the dreadful practice doesn’t get longer. Blowing of the horns. hitting of the drums. feet so tired that I can barely keep up to the tempo. Success! We finish with a good ending, and Mr. Trost is giving the go to, to go on up to the “scissor lift” the yellow car looking thing that raises him up so that he can see the form of the march, yeah that thing. We call this the “Trost mobile” but he doesn’t know it. As everyone walks back we can hear the beep of the “Trost mobile” come back as it makes scary sounds almost as it is going to fall down because of the amount of weight that is on

Previously in the year, it was typical for me just write what is on my mind at the time and later go back and organize it. This paper is a stupendous presentation of that obsolete format. It was common for me to leap from one paragraph to another without soundly blending my ideas into the narrative. Despite this, however, many outstanding developments appeared in this essay. This was the essay that helped me further develop my ability to write sensory details, which immediately shows itself in the introduction: “Lights blare down from above. To my left, I can see the crowd cheering as the previous band charges off the field, and we prepare our grand entrance” ( 1). I also highlighted the negative aspects of the band, such as leadership problems: “Aside from inexperienced and uncaring managers, some people are just wholly opposed to taking orders from their peers. This causes an avalanche of tension between them and their section. Arguments will typically break out as to who is right and who is wrong-- especially during marching season ( 3).” Each paragraph, despite flowing strangely, outlined a specific aspect of the band in increasingly detailed methods. One section describes the methods band members use to communicate with one another while another tells of its hierarchy. Overall, this paper, despite its shortcomings, laid the base for which I would later improve upon in following essays.

After turning the alarm off, Keith held open the door to the left that led to the wide-open gym and then the four of us made our way to the youth room, again to our left. The camp-style lights came on, revealing that the youth room was a disarray of chairs, sports supplies, and, on the “stage”, various cords and other audio equipment. Beside the stage was the door I had knocked. The room smelled faintly like new carpet; it clearly had been renovated recently. The white walls were decorated with strange pattern of navy blue, lime green, and golden-yellow paint streaks, but the mixture of colors gave the room a welcoming vibe, very pleasant for my first practice. Then, Karli got out her half-size keyboard and Keith his laptop, his even smaller keyboard, and what appeared to be a drum synthesizer. Meanwhile, Jenna hooked up the vocal system up to the audio mixer beside Keith. While they set up their equipment, I set down my equipment beside a dusty, full-sized keyboard. In a search for an outlet to plug my amp into, my eyes darted around the room for a few moments, which thankfully led Keith to reveal a compartment in the floor that housed a set of outlets.

When I attended the first rehearsal, I did not know what to expect. I never thought I could sing, but I could dance relatively well; however, I was pretty sure I was not going to be welcome. Even on the first day, I felt the eyes of stereotypical expectation and rudimentary surprise. Yet the stage called my name all the while, so I stayed – never really being aware of what would come next.