This is a moment from the summer before my eleventh grade year. I got the amazing opportunity ot attend the George N. Parks Drum Major Academy, and this is a part of the final lecture I experienced there. Yes, this is another piece I wrote for English class.

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"Vets," said Justin softly as the music slowly faded into silence. "Remember. Remember this moment. Remember how it feels to be here. Remember what you learned this week. Take this back to your band. Don't just have another year as a Drum Major. Make it a million times better than last season."

As I sat there, listening to the man I admired and who has taught me so much, I began to realize I had to leave here. I had to leave this safe place where my mistakes were celebrated, viewed not as flaws, but as a good opportunity to learn and become a better Drum Major. Where I was constantly instructed by some of the best Drum Majors and band directors in the nation. Where I did not know every single one of the 109 students attending the camp with me who I had been around these last four and a half days, but I felt more comfortable around any one of them than some of the people from home I had known since I was born. Where everyone was my friend. Where I felt home.

Almost half an hour earlier, Justin had said, "Vets… it's time. Come on up here." I rose with the twenty other kids attending the camp who were labeled as "vets." We were the kids who had not just survived our first year at Drum Major Academy, but loved it enough to come back for another mind-blowing, life-changing experience.

The staff members came up to each vet individually, all holding George N. Parks Drum Major Academy pins for varsity jackets. I clutched mine tightly, knowing I was not letting go of this precious, hard-earned token any time soon.

Justin turned on the music to play in the background as they distributed. It was "For Good" from Wicked. I've heard it said… that people come into our lives, for a reason… bringing something we must learn… and we are led, to those who help us most to grow… if we let them…

Together, the other vets and I stood facing the rest of the lecture hall. Almost ninety faces of high school students stared back at me. Just last year, I had sat in those seats, in their place, looking on with awe and a sort of reverence as the people- people so much like me- stood in front of me in the place of honor. I had been looking at an image of my future.

And now I was looking at an image of my past.

Justin stood silent for a long moment, making eye contact with each vet before turning to the rookies assembled before us. Every eye was trained, practically unblinking, on the man.

"Rookies," he said finally. "Take a look. Here are your vets. Do you want this? Do you want to stand where they stand right now? Do you want to feel the energy they feel right now? Vets, is it worth it?"

We all nodded with a chorus of truly heartfelt yesses.

"So. Rookies. Make it happen. Make this season the best three, four months of your life. The power is in your hands."

Justin paused for another grand second, making eye contact with as many rookies as he could. Then he turned back to us.

Slowly, my brain rejoined the present.

"Rejoin your peers," he said softly, and the twenty of us did so. Justin motioned for the once again united 109 students to stand. We did so, and draped our arms around our neighbors' shoulders, all knowing that throughout the next three or four months of our lives, we would all need the support given to us by our friends right then.

And friends are friends forever, if the Lord's the Lord of them… and a friend will not say never, cause the welcome will not end… though it's hard to let you go, in the Father's hands we know… that a lifetime's not too long… to live as friends. I thought back to all the times I had stood in front of the band last fall. I stood in front of a group of nearly fifty people on a daily basis, all one hundred of their eyes trained on me, as I had to conduct my way through everything thrown at me. I was their leader. If I failed, they failed. If they succeeded, I succeeded.

I didn't really know the two boys I was surrounded by. According to their nametags, the boy on my left was named Jonas, and the one on my right was John Paul. I think both were seniors, and I knew Jonas was a skilled marcher. That was all I knew about them, yet, here I was, arm in arm with them, feeling the safest and most at home I'd ever felt in my life.. We'll keep you close as always… it won't even seem you've gone… cause our hearts in big and small ways, will keep the love that keeps us strong.

In that moment, standing there, arm in arm with my fellow Drum Majors, my friends, at the end of the final lecture of one of the best nights of my life, I cried. I cried in front of another person for the first time since the summer before eighth grade. And around me, other people were crying too, caught up in the emotion running through that lecture hall.

Though it's hard to let you go… in the Father's hands we know… that a lifetime's not too long… to live as friends.

Justin began to speak in his soft, thought-provoking manner. "Tomorrow, you have to leave here. You will leave your safe "Land of Oz" and return to your bands. I hope you'll return home with more knowledge than when you came here Monday morning. So much has changed since then, hasn't it? Remember what you learned here. Remember your friends here. And make George proud."