In which a younger Elizabeth attempts to tackle the challenges of making pretty noises with an inanimate object.
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Elizabeth sat on a worn plastic chair, somewhat isolated from the other teenage musicians. Class has not yet started, the cacophony of noise filled the high school band room. The off-key twitter from flutists, the banging of over-eager percussionists, the tuning trumpets and the competition among low brass as to who can play the loudest all surrounded the girl's over-sensitive ears. Luckily though, this only lasted for a good few minutes before Mr. Hopkins intervened; if this chaos went on all class period it would have caused Elizabeth to shut down until hours after she has gone home!
The ninth-grader has been in band for nearly a semester, and so far she hated it. True, she had a choice concerning where to transfer after art was cut, more or less. But she needed two fine arts credits, and the mere thought of singing, dancing, or acting on a stage made the incredibly shy girl qualm. So instead she chose what she believed was the best option.
Elizabeth opened her instrument case and slowly took out the pieces, assembling them into a black and silver sculpture of sorts. This routine was monotonous and by now took her only a few minutes to complete; bell, lower section, upper section, barrel, mouthpiece, ligature. All the while she kept a really thin and fragile popsicle stick in her mouth. The taste of wood always makes her gag, but it has to be wet while she plays. Reeds are very picky that way.
For most of the half-year she's been in this class she's had a sort of battle with all of the instruments. Some battles were more successful than others. For example, Elizabeth had no idea what her director was thinking when he tried to assign her the tuba; those sousaphones were bigger than her and impossible for the kid to even lift! That particular experience only lasted for one class before she was assigned and transferred to practically every area of the marching band.
Eventually however, there was a match: the clarinet! Although it was hardly love at first sight-- the reeds, nasty "mouthpiece" jokes from immature boys, and the squeaking noise from beginner playing were all obstacles that she slowly had to overcome. It would have to do. She had to admit, the instrument eventually grown on her, she could even say that she enjoyed playing. A little. But that all ended when concert season began.
Once again Hopkins has tested her resolve. Once marching season ended, he transitioned some kids to instruments for concert band, including her. She still played a clarinet yes, but it was the big brother of the family; the bass clarinet!
Elizabeth groaned aloud at the fully assembled instrument as she half-listened to Hopkins trying to get the percussion section to shut up. The thing was a monster, her small hands could barely wrap around the thick tube to reach the keys. She experimentally put the mouthpiece to her lips and blowed. It required so much air, and the sound quality was so weak and croaky she just couldn't call it a note!
"Alright!" Mr. Hopkins shouted as he stood up to the podium, the playing quieted with the exception of a few knuckleheads. He was a middle-aged man, with a beard and a mullet, both grayed with age and stress. He had wrinkles too, but tye kind that comes from years of laughter. Hopkins was very tall, and very portly which only added to his imposing figure.
His eyes, enlarged to the size of a bug's because of the glasses he wore, wildly shifted to each band member who was still making sound. His booming voice then exploded into the crowd like a sports announcer, every ounce of his normal animated character was present.
"To those of you who don't know, or are too stupid to care, class has started. We're at rest. That means if you are talking, or you have your horns up-- guess what! You're doing it WRONG! Please don't make me treat you like freshmen, thank you!"
The man flashed a huge grin that was so cheesey and so obviously fake. Finally, it was silent in there.
"Good. Now-- It's Friday. And the last class period before the weekend. Oh yes!! But I wouldn't get too excited if I were you, naughty children. For now it is time for... The Lottery!"
The entire band groaned, Hopkins eagerly reached for the jar filled with names and told them to 'Stop Whining.' The class watched with bated breath as the director pulled out a little slip of paper. The paper was green, for the woodwinds. The other sections sighed with relief.
"Bradford!"
Elizabeth threw her head back and all but sank down in her seat. Her turn had to come eventually, she guessed.
"You know the drill. What I want to hear from you is... Sailor's Odyessy! Whenever you're ready."
The class was silent, save for Elizabeth and her bass. This piece was notoriously challenging for her, and Hopkins knew it. It was probably why he made her play it. She haphazardly managed to plow through the assorted quarter notes while only vaugely croaking like a frog. Then she reached 49, which consisted of 14 measures of eighth notes, and zero rests. As usual, her articulation fell apart and she ran out of air halfway. In a desperate attempt to carry on, she took a quick breath and repositioned her mouth. Unfortunately, her reed squeaked and the class laughed and jeered. Hopkins quickly put an end to that.
"How come you guys never think my jokes of the day are funny, but you laugh at this stuff? If you all think you can do better then we'll do a double lottery today, how about that??"
The now humbled band members quickly quieted down and the older man, satisfied, regarded the embarrassed teenager.
"Hey, it's not bad. It's not particularly good but you're getting better. I want you to practice that part of the piece, and uh... measure 60, because that has a bunch of eighth notes too. Then do the articulation exercises in your book. Wright will work with you."
The girl nodded, and Hopkins instructed the class to break off and practice on their own. She watched as Terence Wright-- his name was all she knew about him, other than he was a senior and he plays the tuba-- moved next to her.
"Hey, what's up?"
Elizabeth only responded with a shy smile, otherwise she was closed off.
"I think you did really good, by the way. Don't worry about it. Eventually, all those kids that laugh and play around are gonna be put on the spot too, and they don't practice as hard as you do. Just wait." Terence smiled good naturedley at the smaller girl. She nodded, feeling a little bit better.
"So..." The older teen reached one strong arm up to his stand and fiddled with his music until he found the piece.
"We both have pretty much the same part. Just remember to take breaths in between every phrase and don't try to save air. That won't work for a big instrument. I'll count us off."
As they worked together for the rest of the class, Elizabeth slowly started to feel better about her instrument, her playing and herself in general. The freshman did have to give this course some credit. It offered an escape. Everywhere else, she was a nerd, a fatty, a weird loner. But in the band room she was just a band geek, like everybody else there. She could learn to be okay with that.