“We need the clarinet because it gives a hollow sound and we need as many people there to bring up the effects,” was what Mr Chua said to the first years, who were all getting ready for junior practice.
"Oh okay," some people replied.
Apparently, that was an attempt by the teacher to make the rest of us less sad. The few of us don't actually care. We know we have a lot to learn and the band doesn't need us at the moment. So we quietly sat as we saw people being called to go back to the band room. At the end, there were only 10 of us in the room with Mr A making it 11.
"I guess that's all the juniors I'm teaching," Mr. A, our assistant conductor said.
He arranged our sitting arrangement, with the woodwinds in front of us and the brasses in the second row. I was sitting beside the trombone player whose name is very difficult to remember (I’m sorry okayy like it was 4 years ago) and Andy on my other side.
The first thing we played together was what we thought was a Bb note at that time. The note was not harmonious. It sounds like different sounds put together not like in a good to hear way. It was terrible, very terrible but Mr A never once scowled or mocked at it. Instead, he calmly teaches us what gestures represent for us to end or stop playing. After that, he works with each section individually to fix our note.
At the end of that practice, the note Bb was sounding a lot better. This time a little more harmonious.
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Hmm, Luck?
General FictionWent into band by force, found interest, passion, dreams, friends, companions and then left with at least no feeling of regret and a sense of accomplishment. My life in band, as a tubist player, a section leader and as a drum major!
