A Freshman's Guide to Ruining Your Band

Chapter One

The Beginning


A/n: Hi it's me again! This is based on a true story-- my story to be exact! Don't you all recall a time whenever you were young and innocent and clueless, you know, whenever you were a freshman…..Well here's my story of my first year in marching band and I'm here to help you bring back memoirs of whenever you were once a froshy. I know I had already posted the first chapter a long time ago up here but I deleted it because it was way too short. Now I added my whole entire freshman band camp experience all into one chapter and it's the proper size for a chapter. But don't go anywhere; the real band camp is about to start and that's where it gets really funny and interesting! The pranks, the section wars…ohh I don't want to spoil it for you now, do I? Well keep reading and find out what happens. Oh yeah, and review, please review. I will love yew very much if you do! ^_^

I never wanted to be in marching band. I didn't want to waste my time and elective on something like that—I wanted something more like art or maybe a drama class. But no, my mom made me. How else was I supposed to get to college? I told her to get a band scholarship, you had to actually be good—very good, to be frank. And that I was not. I was just an incoming freshman clarinet with no extraordinary talent like some. Now don't get me wrong… I didn't play bad. But like I said, I was just an incoming freshman. Sure I had made honor band my eighth grade year. But it wasn't like I made first chair, first band. And it wasn't that hard to make it, after all. You just had to practice the music.

Now on my first day at freshman band camp, I woke up excited. I don't care what people say, I always care about what people think about me. I can't help it. And I'm a people-person. I absolutely love being around people my age and meeting new people…. And to talk…I love to talk! Well, anyhow, I had picked out a really cute outfit, hoping to give a good impression to my fellow classmates that I would be meeting that day. That was a big mistake. When I got there, I saw a load of people who gave a distinctive meaning to the term "band dork". Nobody else had cared about their appearances. In fact, they were all wearing the most unfashionable mixed-matched clothes. It was basically lounge-wear—you know comfortable clothes…stuff that I'd never been seen in public in.

Oh, and I regretted my outfit so much later on when we actually started working in the heat.

I tried to make new friends, but I just felt miserable. I didn't know any of these people and it didn't matter what they thought about me because they apparently didn't care about how they or other people looked. They also looked like a bunch of geeks…not really my group type. I didn't really want to be seen hanging around with people like that now, did I?

Later on I would realize that these people would be the best friends anybody could ever have.

Finally the band staff walked out and asked us to hush. They handed out nametags to everybody there and told us to keep them at the top of our shirts and to NOT take them off for any reason. They had our name and instrument typed on it already for us. Then the staff went about introducing themselves. For some reason, I always have the worst first impressions when I first meet somebody. First the flute section leader stood up. She was tall, skinny and had pretty dark hair. She was wearing a tiny tank top and gave a new meaning to "short-shorts." My first impression of her was a slut and a stuck-up snob.

"Hi," she said. "My name is Michelle. I'm a senior and I'm the flute section leader."

Next was my section leader—clarinet. A guy stood up and smiled. He seemed really hyper and reminded me of a monkey for some reason. "Hi, I'm TJ!" he piped up. "I'm a senior and I'm the clarinet section leader." I really didn't pay attention to the rest of the section leaders, as my mind was off in my own little world. I was wondering what in the world actually was a section leader and what did they do?

After a lot of talking and introducing, we finally went outside to learn marching fundamentals, which at the time I can honestly say that I had no clue in the world what that was. We went out into the school's parking lot (or one of them) and stood in the shade…. Thank god. We got into a block and Mr. Roeder turned his little megaphone thing on and did a whole lot of talking.

Now half of the people in the block were not freshman. They were just upperclassmen coming to get a fresh review before they went back to band camp. Or maybe they just came to pick on us freshmen who had no earthly idea what we were doing. Since the upperclassmen outnumbered us, they made us look bad because they knew what they were doing and we didn't. Can't you imagine that? Over half of the people doing in right, looking completely confident as if that was second nature to them and then the rest of the people were stumbling around looking or standing still looking uncertainly around at the people around them. I thought it was the hardest thing in the world.

I actually laugh about that now. I now could do that stuff perfect in my sleep, as if it were second nature to me!

Eventually we picked up the basic 1-e-&-a stuff….then we got faster and went a walking pace instead of step-by-step. But we weren't having too much luck. I actually got so frustrated that I just copped a squat right where I was standing. I really don't think I should have done that. Mr. Roeder, the band director, absolutely hates it when people just give up or complain. Everybody else there was trying, at least. He embarrassed me over the mega-phone thing of his. I was mortified at first and just wanted to run and hide my face.

But now later on, I realize I shouldn't have let something like that get to me. In fact, that wasn't the only time Mr. Roeder embarrassed me like that over the intercom in front of everybody. But I also wasn't the only one that he embarrassed like that. He seemed to do it to everybody. But to me, it seemed like he always picked on me. But like I said, that was just to me it seemed that way because I never really paid attention to what he said to the others; I had far too much other stuff to be working on. However, it seems like nobody ever noticed it either.

After much sweating, complaining, hollering, and embarrassing, Mr. Roeder led us back into the band room (which is like a second home to me now) to work on our show music. We all sat down and the section leaders handed out our folders, which held our music. This year's theme was Riverdance. Lovely. Like that meant anything to me then. Mr. Roeder talked a little bit, we warmed up and then we sight-read a bit. Then he asked us to look at our music while he played the actual recording of the music.

When I heard that music, I was terrified. In middle school, we were used to playing beginning level one music with your basic quarter notes and occasional eighth notes at a speed in which even snails could pass. But this—this music—did they actually think that we could play this stuff? Honestly! I looked to my right at another fellow freshman clarinet, named Kim. Her eyes were huge with terror and anxiety. "I can't play this!" she mouthed to me. Heh. That was just the first piece to the Riverdance music. It was the next one that was really hard. Yeah, it sounded cool. But I can't even imagine what it'd sound like whenever I'd try to play something that fast at that high of notes—far from cool or pretty. You couldn't even get an "interesting". It'd be more like "ugh! What was that? Attack of the killer clarinet?!"

And finally, we were allowed to put up our instruments. We put them up and the room filled with the ramble of everybody talking about the new music. I actually heard a few of the upperclassmen say something like, "Ohmigod, can you believe he gave us something like this? It's soo easy!" I wanted to puke right there. After we were finished, Mr. Roeder came back up. He talked a little while, telling us to practice on our music and our marching fundamentals, and then he finally dismissed us.

And such was my first day at Freshman Band Camp, and the beginning of a successful year in band.

The next morning I woke up, my muscles ached. I crawled out of bed and got ready for my second day at freshman band camp.

When looking for that day's outfit, I didn't pick out the most expensive, impressive and glittery outfit I could find, unlike the previous day. Instead, I traded in heels for tennis shoes and skin-tight capris for flexible shorts.

I was much more comfortable, but don't get me wrong-- I didn't look as bad as most of the people did yesterday. I was willing to sacrifice glam in order to be comfortable but I wasn't going to lose my reputation as somebody who cared about how they looked.

I threw my hair into a ponytail, got my clarinet, and told my mom that I was ready to leave.

When I got there, there wasn't many people there yet, as I was thirty minutes early.

You see, that's Mr. Roeder's motto: if you're on time, you're late!

So I sat down and just wandered off into La-La Land. After a while, a girl walked up to me and sat down by my side. I had seen her before at a Band-Booster's meeting but we never actually spoke. One glance at her nametag told me that she was a member of the Colorguard. But I didn't need to look at the tag to know that; Aunt Sally, who was in charge of the Guard, made all of the members wear white T-shirts to camp. In that glance, I also noticed that, just like me, she really cared about her appearance.

"Hi," the girl said. "My name is Shawna Bell." She smiled really big, flashing pearly white teeth. We talked a little more, until Roeder called us to start.

And from then on, Shawna and I have been the best of friends.

Things were a whole lot easier for me that day. I don't know if it's because I was happy that I finally met somebody with whom I could be friends with or if it was because I was determined to show those upperclassmen that I could do it, freshman or not.

About halfway throughout the day, we went to go and get fitted for band uniforms. We went about three people at a time. When my name was called, I went with a flute-girl named Candace and that clarinet player, Kim.

When I first saw the uniforms, my worst fears about marching band were confirmed. They were hideous and such a fashion disaster. They were blue, gold and white. It had trousers with…oh come on…heh.. suspenders. They had padded shoulders and we got to wear plumes! How lovely! I most definitely did not want to be seen wearing that at football games, where everybody hung out on Friday nights.

At first I swore that come game night, I wouldn't wear it. They were such fashion disasters.

And the Guard got to wear cute little dresses! No fair!

Heh. Now that cracks me up every time I think about it. Eventually, we got used to the uniforms and learned to...cough, cough…love them. Now that's a sign of a true band nerd.

After we got fitted for the uniforms, we went back outside and joined the rest of the band. It was a bit hard on me because while we were inside, we had missed out on learning backwards slides. But eventually I got the hang of it, although it took me only, what, forever?

Finally, we went to the band room for refuge against the sweltering heat and practiced the highly complicated show music.

The night before I took the music home and actually practiced it. So today I could actually play a measure or two, unlike yesterday, when I had just sat there in amazement staring at the upperclassmen clarinets while their fingers fumbled everywhere.

After what seemed like only forever, they finally dismissed us. But we had to go back in a couple of hours for chair try-outs. They had given us this complicated music to audition for chairs.

So I went home, took a shower, practiced a bit, ate lunch and was off back to school again.

Once there I started to get my normal case of nerves again. Okay, I have bad stage fright and I can't play good under pressure. It actually hurts me. Hours later, I'm always still aching and shaking all over. And then I take it out on myself because I did so badly.

But it also didn't help any for the fact that the upperclassmen were just whizzing through the music as they practiced until their name was called. I felt very intimidated.

Finally I heard Mr. Roeder shout from his office, "Next victim…"

My turn. Joy! And it really didn't help matters any by him shouting that, either.

I walked into his office with my music and instrument, already shaking with nerves. I sat down in the chair and started to play. But then I stopped at the first squeak, er, note, that is… I tried again…and again..and still no avail! So basically did the same thing to the rest of my music. And embarrassed myself so bad. I walked out of the office crying.

It was so embarrassing, what, with everybody I knew running up and asking if I was okay and everybody I didn't know look at me as if I were some creep.

So I went home and did the only thing I could do at the time… wait until tomorrow, the last day of freshman camp, to find out the chair audition results.

The next day I woke up and started to get dressed. I had clothes already laid out for today that I picked out last night but I changed my mind at the last minute. I threw the blue jean shorts back onto my bed and pulled out some comfortable parachute-material surf shorts. I didn't completely avoid make-up but I purposely left out the glitter, mascara and shiny lipgloss.

I grabbed my clarinet, music, and informed my mom that I was ready to leave. I got to the school early, as I was yesterday, but not quite as early.

When I walked into the band room I saw that my new friend Shawna was here already, sitting on the floor talking to a couple of other girls. I walked up behind her and tapped her on the back. She turned and saw I was there, greeted me and then introduced me to the Colorguard friends that she was talking to.

There was Savannah, Marca, and Nicole (also known as Amber), who were all freshmen. I already knew Marca and Nicole from junior high. Then there was Erica (a junior) and Wendy (a senior, and I also think she's the rifle captain or something like that).

I already knew Nicole had just met Savannah, both of which I was going to be roomed with a band camp next week. The other girl that I was rooming with, Kimberly (known as Kim), wasn't here yet. I went to middle school with Kim but I never really got to know her that well.

She was a bit different but I admired her for that. She had grown up on a farm way off far away from town. She wore tight wrangler jeans and cowboy boots.

Oh yeah, and she was majorly obsessed with horses. All she talked about were her horses. She drew pictures of horses, read books that were about horses…you get the point.

Since she went to the same school as I did last year, I also knew that she got picked on for her eccentricness. Just because she's different. That really gets me mad. To this day, people still talk about her, except for now I don't just listen, I defend Kim and tell those people off. Kim and I are really good friends and I don't know what I'd do without her because she's the only other girl freshman clarinet and is also a really great listener.

It's also a known fact about Kim that she hates band, she hates the band director, and the only reason she's in band is because her mom makes her. I've tried persuading her not to quit because, for a freshman, she doesn't suck. My band director even told me that he thought she had potential.

Oh yeah, back to the subject. Finally the last day of freshman band camp had started. We sat in our sections, he took roll, talked for like ever and then we found out what chairs we made. As he called out the list, we were to move to our new order. Finally he got to the clarinet section.

First chair was TJ, our section leader, of course. Second chair was Courtney, a junior, who also played bass clarinet during concert season. Third chair was a senior guy named Justin, who liked to joke around a lot. Fourth chair was a junior girl named Hannah. She was short and a little chubby but she had that "aww so cute" look to her, for some reason. She didn't look like she was a junior at all. Fifth chair was Aaron, also a freshman. I had knew him from sixth grade. He was always first chair and the best. Next, in sixth chair, was me. Seventh chair was Kim. And in the final eighth chair was a senior, Candace. Candace was really good but she didn't make it to the try-outs which automatically makes you last chair. Only TJ, Courtney, and us three freshman went to band camp though.

I was really upset with myself. I kept on mentally scolding myself, you made 6th out of 8 chairs? And what was worse was that I was really supposed to be 7th chair, not a chair higher. Candace was an awesome clarinetist, not to mention a senior, and the only reason she was in last chair was because she hadn't tried out.

My friend Kim had tried comforting me by telling me that I was competing with a bunch of upperclassmen who had way much more experience playing an instrument, not to mention the high-school level music. But what really made me feel better is her saying, 'At least you didn't make last chair, or pretty much last chair." I was only a chair higher than her but yet she wasn't being as hard on herself as I was on myself. She just merely shrugged and that was it. Why couldn't I ever accept things just like she does? Why am I so freaking stubborn?!

After that we practiced a bit more on our show music and then went outside for a little while. Afterwards we all came back inside, feeling proud of ourselves because we finally managed to learn all of the marching fundamentals. We could now march a figure eight with hip-shifts and slides while playing a F-concert scale. We got some water, put our instruments up and sat down in our sections so Mr. Roeder could talk to us before he dismissed us.

He congratulated us on accomplishing so much and told us to be prepared next Monday morning when we went out of town to band camp. He told us not to forget a water bottle, bathing suit, toothbrush, towels, soap and shampoo, blankets and the such. And then he finally dismissed. We ran out of the band building screaming immaturely like children, happy for freshman camp to be over, and the weekend's come, with emotions and ambitions running high. I just couldn't wait for band camp to come!

Endnote: So, did you like it? Well whether you did our not, please please please review! I'll love yew forever more, I promise!

Love ya lots!

--Mae-Lynn Moodle, KlarinetKween