I started playing musical instruments when I was 4. Over the years, I learned to play piano, organ, accordion, drums, and trumpet. I liked band, especially marching band. I marched in a Drum & Bugle Corps for 2 summers. I won awards for being the best marcher. I was the drum major of marching band in High School (and again in college) cause I was the best and I knew it. Unfortunately, Tom (Yes, it's his real name, I refuse to cover up who he is since he still haunts my dreams after so many years. And, yes we called him by his first name as a sign of disrespect.) Tom decided to make my life hell.
Each semester, Tom would hold tryouts where you would have to play your instrument in front of the entire class to see who was the best and would therefore get the most challenging parts. No big deal, every band does that. However, not every bandleader chooses to make fun of a student for doing poorly because of nerves when playing in front of the entire class. I could do the parts. He knew I could do the parts. I just couldn't handle the pressure of that situation. His history of making fun of me just made it worse each time tryouts would come up again. I finally started just playing what I could and told him to give me whatever part he wanted.
My junior year, Tom changed his grading scale "to deal with people like me." (What kind of teacher talks this way to his students?) See, it was his view that the reason I couldn't play well when singled out was because I didn't practice at home, and it had nothing at all to do with nerves. While it was true I didn't practice, I didn't need to and could play just fine as part of the band. Anyway, his new scale added weekly times for us to play in front of the class and get graded on. You can imagine the joy I felt over this. So, instead of band being an easy "A", like it's supposed to be, I started getting "B's", which then brought my GPA down and got my parents on my case. Of course, they thought he was a great teacher and that I just wasn't applying myself again, since they too knew I wasn't practicing at home. But this post isn't about my parents, it's about my old buddy Tom.
As I said, I liked being in band and had a ton of friends in there, but it made putting up with Tom all the more difficult. I was also a member of the Pep Band, which was a group of us who'd go to basketball games, etc. to play the fight song and stuff. Each year, the Pep Band got invited to go play at the local minor league hockey team's game, which I went to and enjoyed. However, my senior year the game was on a Friday evening, which was also when the theatre group was going to be working on building the set for a new play that I was the student director for. I've already discussed how much I enjoyed set building.
Since going to this hockey game was a volunteer activity after school, I told Tom I didn't want to go. Unfortunately for me, the only other person who played first part trumpet was on the girl's basketball team and had an away game that night. Tom and I argued at length about whether I should have to go to the hockey game or not. I kept trying to remind him that it was a volunteer organization and he couldn't make me go. He talked to the girl and found out there was a chance she'd be back from her basketball game in time to catch the bus to the hockey game. With that, he got me to agree that if she didn't make it back in time, I'd go to the hockey game.
Well, after school that Friday, I started working on building the set with my theatre friends and before I knew it, it was time to get ready for the hockey game and there was no sign of the girl's basketball team being back. I lost it. All the hate I had generated toward Tom over the years came bubbling up and I decided there was no way he could force me to go. (Try to look past the fact that I game him my word. I absolutely hated this man.) It was a volunteer group and so I knew that there couldn't be any repercussions to my not going. I did the only logical thing one would do when faced with this situation. I hid.
Since I was in the auditorium all the time as part of the theatre group, I knew my way around the passages under our stage. I crawled my way into a dark, remote corner and waited. I could hear various people from the Pep Band coming into the auditorium asking for me. Everyone from theatre gave conflicting stories, but it basically boiled down to yes, I'd been there, but no one had seen me in a while, and maybe I'd left. One slight problem with this excuse was the fact that my car was parked in the very first spot outside the doors near the band room and auditorium, and everyone in both groups knew it was my car.
More time ticked by and Tom finally came in asking for me. He asked Mr. M where I was, and Mr. M gave the same response everyone else had given. I could hear the steam pouring out of Tom's ears before he stomped out. I thought I was golden until one guy from band started crawling around under the stage, thinking maybe I was under there. At this point, I'd been hiding for around a half an hour. My eyes were completely accustomed to the dark and I knew there was no way he could see me from his vantage point. I held my breath and waited. He peered in my general direction for a moment and then looked a different way for a moment before giving up the search.
I heard the commotion die down, gave it about 15 more minutes until I was sure that the bus had left for the hockey game, and then came crawling out of my hiding spot. Everyone from theatre started cracking up. I was filthy! I had dust and dirt all over my clothes and there were spider webs all over in my hair. But, I got to stay and had a fun evening working on the set, just like I'd wanted.
[TO BE CONTINUED...]
P.S. Here's my senior picture, since I mentioned my hair. It deserves it's own post someday, but ever since I started talking about high school, I've been dying to come up with a reason to link it. Crazy, I know, but it was the late 80's, so I would have fit in with the MTV crowd at least.
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