Freshman Year Band

Ending Day One

The rest of the day was standard and uneventful as first days typically are. It seemed that my callout made me gain a reputation pretty quickly since in every class I went to that had another band student resulted in being interrogated about my previous school and band experiences. Wanting to lay low for a while I only said things like, "I moved here from Texas," "I've played sax since fifth grade," and "I don't care much about chair placements." They weren't lies so it's not like I was being a bad person, just keeping my head down for time being.

After I opened the door to my house I kicked off my shoes and immediately laid down on my bed from exhaustion. It seems I fell asleep during that because I woke up to the smell of dinner cooking. Stretching first, I walked lazily out to the kitchen, seeing it was already set out on the table with my parents eating. "Good morning sleepy head," said my mother. "How was school?" I responded with a light shrug as I began eating the plate of spaghetti in front of me. "How was band?" I stopped and choked a little on my noodles from surprise. "Band?" I asked looking up at her. "It uh...wasn't bad. I can't really say much since we didn't play. The teacher says he'll let everyone try out instruments tomorrow during class and after school." "So you're still on saxophone then?" asked my dad still not looking up from his tablet screen. "Yep," I answered gruffly twirling my fork on my plate. "You don't seem too please by that," my mother said raising her eyebrow into an arch quizzically. "I was looking forward to trombone," I answered. "But you're so good at sax. Why would you want to quit?" "I'm not that good. I just wanted a new start here so I wasn't stuck in the same thing as before." Before she could say any more I stood up from my seat to take my plate to the kitchen. "I'm going to bed," I stated walking away.

Closing the door once entering my room, I laid down on top of my bed. As I stared at the ceiling with my hands crossed behind my head, I began to question whether it was worth being in band if I just was going to do the same thing repeatedly every year. The series of saxophone workbooks on my shelf were there just to make minor improvements that kept me from advancing through stand positions in Texas. There was little doubt in my mind that things would be easier for me here due to the significantly smaller class size. That usually meant lower skilled players too, but I didn't want to label them without having heard them live or in recordings. I let out a deep sigh before closing my eyes. Oh well. Tomorrow will be the moment of truth.