Clara Swetnam-Burland--William and Mary

 

The first day of band practice felt like the worst day of my life. I was in the car, holding back tears. I begged my mom not to make me go. “I don’t know anyone. I’ve only been playing for a year. What if the music is too hard?”

“You have to do this,” my mom said. “It’ll be great. It’ll help you make new friends. I did it, and I loved it!”

Her words didn’t console me. I wasn’t like my mom. I was shy and terrified where she was brave and outgoing. I was sure everyone was going to hate me.

I walked into school in my new skinny jeans, which I wore despite the heat because that’s what teenagers were supposed to wear. I was greeted with a room full of kids in athletic shorts and t-shirts, all talking to each other as if they were best friends. “This is a mistake. I’m not even dressed right,” I thought.

Freshman year band was hard. I found every aspect difficult, from playing in time with the band to marching with an even step. I was constantly overwhelmed as new things were thrown at me every week. Things like dancing while playing and carrying props twice my height. I cried when my clarinet squeaked during a competition and when I marched out of line. Everyone seemed better than I was.      

Despite how hard that year was for me, I persevered. When sophomore year started, I was still scared but surprisingly excited and curious. Something had changed. “What will the music sound like? Will this be as hard as last year?” I wondered.

During sophomore year, I noticed that everyone was making mistakes, not just me, and that when the band director yelled, I understood it was only because he wanted us to reach our full potential. Our mistakes became inside jokes rather than things to beat ourselves up about.  My confidence grew, and I finally felt like one of the group rather than the oddly dressed outsider. 

During junior year, I became more than just one of the group, I became a leader. I knew the new kids needed support. Although it was terrifying, I brought them extra snacks and socks to match the uniform, in case they had forgotten theirs. I helped them with their music, and told them that it’s okay to make mistakes, something I wish I had known as a freshman. Teaching them helped my confidence more than I thought possible. Meanwhile, I was continuing to work on my playing. I practiced for hours each week and took private lessons, and that year, I made it into District Band with the other best players.

My newfound confidence also helped me outside of band. I auditioned for the school musical, and although I didn’t make it, it felt good to try. I formed friendships with people I never thought I would. My best friend, also in band, holds contrary political views to mine, but  I’m not afraid to tell her what I think. What’s more important is what we share. Band is about kids from different backgrounds coming together to work hard, and touch other people with our music. Together, we are stronger than any individual.

At the first football game of my senior year, a freshman came up to me, looking scared. “I’m really nervous. There are so many people watching.”  

I said, “You can do this. Just try your best, and perform like you do in practice.” As I echoed the sentiments my mom told me on my first day of practice four years ago, I realized that I could never have become the person I am now without the experience I’ve had in band. Band taught me that once I commit to something, I won’t quit, no matter how uncomfortable, angry, sad, or defeated I feel. I will always push through.