Confession

To be honest, I kinda dig it.

Yea. So there.

I both loathed and adored band camp for my three years of American High School because, well, because of the power it had over me. I grew so ensconced with the people, with the motions of it, with the unifying of everyone towards the one goal. I loved bonding with all the crazy kids, out on the marching field, rep after rep, in the sun, in the fog, in the hail, in the thunder storms. I loved working so endlessly, working so productively. I really loved the weekend trips to competitions (band busses full of band kids...what you know is truer than you think.) I grew to trust our director more than I trust my own father. Then, when I found myself betrayed by those very same people, I think some of that sadness just rubbed off on the activity by association. Senior year I resented being in our marching band, because it was such a far cry from the band I'd grown to know and love, the work ethic, the pure torture of a very competitive ensemble getting ready for a very competitive season. Sometimes I look back and think maybe it was just me. Maybe I was just scared shitless of all my drummer guys freshman year. Maybe sophomore year I was just scared. Maybe thats why everything else seemed so intimidating and overblown in comparison. But if nothing else, marching band was the focus of my high school, more so than foreign languages, more so than sports by far. And band camp, the whole glorious hell that is the two weeks prior to the first day of school, was the heart of the experience.

When I heard what was happening this year, how basically, everyone in charge of everything by some act of god through no fault of their own is seriously incapacitated and can't come to instruct, my first response was pity. And than quickly laughter. Insert one of those Nelson giant "HAAAAAAAAAAAAAA HAAAAAAAAAAAAA" here. But most of all, I felt bad that it had come to this, two new instructors, which ever graduates they can sweet talk into coming to tech on the field, and for the moment, me running pit. Yea, I cursed alot of my time that I spent in the highschool music department. But it also played a big part in making me who I am today, both good and bad. I guess the easiest way to explain schizophrenic change of heart- I feel bad. And I feel like I owe it to the man and the place that gave me so much. I can say, without a doubt, without music, I never would have made it through highschool alive.

So here I am. Spending 8 hours a day of my last week in country working at Marching Band Camp. Trying to teach a bunch of munchkins their show, in less than 5 days. And honestly, I get the biggest kick out of being there. In the two days that I have been there, we've actually learned the whole opener of the show, the whole first piece. We wont mention its some twisted combonation of Paul Simon's "Like a Bridge Over Troubled Water", and someone else's "Pinball Fantasy". Yeaaaaaaaaaah 70's rock medley. But to my surprise, they actually sound decent. I feel like I'm the biggest fraud out there. We'll go through the music chunk by chunk, break the hard parts down, take the speed heinously slow, then move things quicker. Basically, everything I can possibly do to teach them this music. Now, having exhausted all the tricks of the trade I remember from way back when, I'm just making it up as I go along, just waiting for someone to call me on it. Sometimes I feel like life, destiny, most of my mentors, you name it, are all subversively pushing me in the direction of teaching. I keep fighting it, and they keep winning. Teaching swimming lessons, teaching czech, running rehearsals at school, tutoring with Russian. Why why why?

I dig it. I really do. And that surprises me...Today was awesome. We were outside all day long (I have the tan lines to prove it), just repping music while the band was setting drill and going through the motions. All in all, it was ridiculously unproductive activity, for those of us involved in the part of the marching band who don't march. But much to my surprise, we actually got stuff done. The girls just kept on working when everyone else was busy. They have most of their music to the first part of the show memorized. In my day, hah. Not likely. Far more than not likely. I'm the one that managed to fall asleep sitting under the marimba during band camp, while everyone was out on the field marching. So I'm totally floored by how well things are going, if still wondering when people are going to catch on that I haven't a fucking clue what I'm doing.

Why do the music and the language parts of my have to be in such constant and consistant opposition? Like, I'd be more than happy doing this for a good part of my life, music I mean. But I only feel like that when I'm in the middle of it. All summer long I was totally immersed in Russian, and thought I was happier than ever, wandering along by the beach muttering to myself.

Why can't I have both?