The Band Director Conspiracy
They say that an overdose of caffeine brings out the worst in people.
This is most certainly true.
During my last survey, I found that about 18 people have read this blog, with about five faithful, if silent, readers.
Most of the faithful readers know me outside of cyberspace, and it is these people who already know about the Band Director Conspiracy.
But for those who don't, I will give a brief summary, as the post I make after this will make little sense otherwise.
***
In grades first through six, my band director was Mr. M, as I shall call him.
He wasn't the best in band directors. Whenever I played a wrong note, he would throw a chair at me.
As this was elementary school, he was also my flute instructor.
Needless to say, I learned very little.
Then I moved into junior high.
In my new school, the band was over 100 strong, normal for my area. Unlike most other schools, upper classmen or the best players didn’t run the band. It was run by an elite group, know as the Favorites.
As I walked in to band camp that first day, just a poor, scared seventh grader, I took no notice of the band directory, Mr. Y, watching all of the new students intently.
He was making his selections for the Favorites.
Whether it was 'lamb-with-fangs' attitude, my innocent looks, my ability to calm the fears and concerns of my fellow seventh graders, or how I didn't freak out when grown men started to flirt with me, I will never know. But somehow, I was on the potential Favorite list.
Because of this, life was good. I was accepted into the band, aloud to eat under the big oak tree with the Favorites, and given a high standing in the flute section.
Things change all to quickly however.
It was late, almost ten. I had just gotten done performing in my first football game. I had period cramps, I had just come out of a minor sugar-induced spasm, and my mind was elsewhere, thinking instead to my Dad, who was having a particularly bad week.
So, when an upperclassmen bumped into me on my way out, causing my to drop my empty garment bag, I simply scooped it back up, and scampered out of the stadium to my ride.
I got home to peel my sticky uniform from my sore, hot, shivering flesh.
That’s when I noticed something.
This wasn't my garment bag.
Fear shot through me as I read whose garment it was.
I had just stolen the garment bag of one of the ringleaders of the Favorites.
I had my drive back to the stadium, hoping to make things right.
Alas, I was too late.
I eventually got my right garment bag back, and the girl whose garment bag I took harbored to grudge.
But the band director did.
And since, that night, he has taken it upon himself to make my life I living hell, as well as push both me and my younger sister, who joined that band the year after I did, into the cold circle of band outcasts.
And that is The Band Director Conspiracy.
This is most certainly true.
During my last survey, I found that about 18 people have read this blog, with about five faithful, if silent, readers.
Most of the faithful readers know me outside of cyberspace, and it is these people who already know about the Band Director Conspiracy.
But for those who don't, I will give a brief summary, as the post I make after this will make little sense otherwise.
***
In grades first through six, my band director was Mr. M, as I shall call him.
He wasn't the best in band directors. Whenever I played a wrong note, he would throw a chair at me.
As this was elementary school, he was also my flute instructor.
Needless to say, I learned very little.
Then I moved into junior high.
In my new school, the band was over 100 strong, normal for my area. Unlike most other schools, upper classmen or the best players didn’t run the band. It was run by an elite group, know as the Favorites.
As I walked in to band camp that first day, just a poor, scared seventh grader, I took no notice of the band directory, Mr. Y, watching all of the new students intently.
He was making his selections for the Favorites.
Whether it was 'lamb-with-fangs' attitude, my innocent looks, my ability to calm the fears and concerns of my fellow seventh graders, or how I didn't freak out when grown men started to flirt with me, I will never know. But somehow, I was on the potential Favorite list.
Because of this, life was good. I was accepted into the band, aloud to eat under the big oak tree with the Favorites, and given a high standing in the flute section.
Things change all to quickly however.
It was late, almost ten. I had just gotten done performing in my first football game. I had period cramps, I had just come out of a minor sugar-induced spasm, and my mind was elsewhere, thinking instead to my Dad, who was having a particularly bad week.
So, when an upperclassmen bumped into me on my way out, causing my to drop my empty garment bag, I simply scooped it back up, and scampered out of the stadium to my ride.
I got home to peel my sticky uniform from my sore, hot, shivering flesh.
That’s when I noticed something.
This wasn't my garment bag.
Fear shot through me as I read whose garment it was.
I had just stolen the garment bag of one of the ringleaders of the Favorites.
I had my drive back to the stadium, hoping to make things right.
Alas, I was too late.
I eventually got my right garment bag back, and the girl whose garment bag I took harbored to grudge.
But the band director did.
And since, that night, he has taken it upon himself to make my life I living hell, as well as push both me and my younger sister, who joined that band the year after I did, into the cold circle of band outcasts.
And that is The Band Director Conspiracy.
posted by Rebecca | 9:37 PM
2 Comments:
Yoot let the truth be told! Now let us burn down the band director's house and go down for arson. Just kidding but good way to put the truth into words. I only wish that was only a myth a not the deathly cold, hard truth.
~ :)
*gasp* It's the anonymous smilie person!!
TO THE BUNKER!!!!!
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