The first time I heard the boom of the drums and the crash of the cymbals I was hooked. It was the first pep rally of the new school year at Piedmont Lakes Middle School and I was just a lonely sixth grader among a crowd of mostly unfamiliar faces clad in black and emerald green. As one would expect of the participants of a junior high pep rally, they were all pumped, cheering and singing along as the school chorus belted out the alma mater in consummate harmony. However, even in the midst of all this commotion, I couldn’t suppress the anxiety building up in the pit of my stomach as I sat, in a daze, contemplating what the year ahead would bring and where exactly I’d fit in. Of course, I had some friends but the transition from elementary school to middle school made seeing them difficult. I knew I needed a place to belong, a group to be a part of. I just had to figure out where that place would be. As my thoughts continued to race inside my head, my eardrums were suddenly flooded by the sweet sound of the “Star Spangled Banner” being performed by a symphony of adolescent musicians. They all wore black slacks, white tuxedo shirts, cummerbunds, and bowties. But what really caught my eye were their emerald green vests complete with gold ribbon trim. I might have been a complete dork for thinking these silly getups were actually cool but I didn’t care, they all looked like super-cool, music-playing leprechauns. Becoming a musician had never crossed my mind before but at that very moment it was as if a switch was flipped and an imaginary light bulb began to flicker above my head. “I’m gonna be in the band,” I thought to myself.
As I entered the band room for the first time and took my seat, Mr. Perry, the band director, greeted me. He was a pot-bellied man in suspenders with a scruffy, gray beard and piercing blue eyes. Although rather intimidating at first, after taking the time to introduce himself the façade quickly faded. He explained that in a week we’d have the opportunity to try out for band and warned that it was a commitment, not a club. None of his speech scared me though. I was ready and I wanted my green vest.
Fast forward to audition day. I’d narrowed down my list of instruments I was interested in and zeroed in on the clarinet. Auditioning was fairly simple. All I had to do was blow into a clarinet mouthpiece for Mr. Perry. If he thought we had potential, we were in. Later that day, the list was posted and I made it. Needless to say, I was ecstatic.
Once joining the band I quickly learned that there’s just something about music that really brings people together. What it is, I don’t know, but I do know that being accepted into the band community was so rewarding. The band room became my home away from home. However, it wasn’t the room itself that I became so attached to, but the personal bonds I gained in it that made it one of my favorite places to be. To me, being in band meant I would always have a friend to confide in, a shoulder to lean on, or just a buddy to laugh with. Even now when I revisit the halls of Piedmont Lakes Middle School the memories are still fresh. I can still smell the stale scent of the practice rooms and see the sound panel covered walls embellished with painted handprints and pictures of band members past. Their legacy left behind is one of which I am now a part of for this is the place, the very room, in which I was accepted into the brotherhood of the green-vested leprechauns.
