My clock says that it is about 3:45 in the morning, and I am unable to sleep, so I guess I will spend a little bit of time talking to you, whomever that may be.
Today was a pretty great start to a surprising three day weekend. I received the call this morning about 5:30 about the school being closed, and was very happy to have a nice day to do nothing but sit and watch the ice and snow fall. In actuality it's pretty bad outside and I hope that my family and friends are all surviving and doing Ok. My mom and dad's power went out in Sheridan, but they are huddled in the downstairs area around the power generator that is giving them some heat along with the furnace. Michelle called in to work this morning to take the day off because she was afraid to get out of her driveway, so it seems that everybody is allright.
Most of my day today was spent washing clothes, talking to people on facebook, and just generally lounging around enjoying my new surround sound system and my new little entertainment center. It was comfy, and I am constantly reminded how lucky I am to have a roof over my head and am able to be almost 100% independent in these uncertain times. This is a much different United States than when I was born thirty years ago. (actually, now that I think and really compare the economics, it might not of have been that different after all.)
Physically and Emotionally, I am starting to feel thirty for the first time, and I am not sure how to take that. The food that I am eating it starting to affect my days more, the way that I treat my body is starting to affect my attitude, and, in general, I am starting to move onto another phase of my life. Its there and I see the corner, but, you really never know you turned it until you look in the rear view mirror.
Am I happy? For the most part, yes. There are always things that we can improve upon in our own lives, and I am still making mistakes and falling short every day. It is all a constant balancing act, it seems, and it is always just ready to tip over at any moment if you allow it. Does this have to do with relationships or being single? Nah, I accepted the fact that quite a while back that I am not the kind of guy that would get married. I am completely married to my job unfortunately, and that is about it. Will I regret that when I am seventy? Perhaps, but with the way things are looking, my generation will probably have to work until death just to keep food on the table. I am looking forward to submitting my application to Wal-Mart when I am seventy to be a door greeter! I will use Willie from the Maumelle Wal-Mart as my inspiration. :)
An aimless blog of thought for this evening. Thanks for tagging along.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Pride, Self-Confidence
One of my favorite movies of all time is Donnie Darko. I love it more than any other movie because its meaning changes every single time that I view it. The first time I was simply blown away by the dialogue and the soundtrack, along with the bizarre ending. The second time, I caught a little more of the genius of the actual directing style, and what Richard Kelley was aiming for as far as characterization and the atmosphere. The hallway scene, where the private school is introduced while Tears for Fears "Head over Heels" is playing in the background, is absolutely one of the favorite movie scenes of all time.
The last time I took the time to view it, I really tried to understand more of Patrick Swayze's character involvement in the film and his parody of most "self help gurus" using his fear and love spectral analysis. Donnie's argument was that you simply cannot classify things in life into just one or two parts of a linear spectrum, but it really got me wondering:
How many of my decisions on a daily basis are based on fear?
Well, maybe not so much fear as pride. But can't pride almost run symmetrical with fear? Pride runs very deep in my family, and while some view it as only a positive, there are times when pride can blind, create tunnel vision, and cloud the decision making and creative process.
For example, in my last wind symphony class with the Upper School Band, we were working very hard on a piece and I made the mistake of saying that one of my flutes was playing a part incorrectly when it was one of the other flute players. The accused flute player told me that it was not her and the other flute admitted that it was her instead. Now, the students know me well enough to know that I am usually cool when I make a mistake, but instead, I got a little hot headed about it. It stuck with me for the rest of the day and I felt incredibly guilty for reacting like that and apologized to both students later on. Unfortunately, my personal pride got in the way, and blocked me from showing my students that it is Ok to make these kinds of mistakes. Even after all the degrees, college time, experience, and everything else, we are only human, after all.
It's funny though, you think that as you get older that these kinds of things would become easier to handle, but, in fact, they just become easier to mask and more complex to deal with.
Another thing that becomes more apparent as you get older is your self confidence. Right now, I am a thirty year old single male who is overweight and balding. I am usually not the most engaging guy when it comes to conversation, and would rather spend time in seclusion then go out with friends. My recent illness has shown me that I am not, in fact, superhuman, and have limits to what I can do and how far I can push myself. These things are not easy for me to get over sometimes, and like most people my age, we mask these lackings and cover it with anger, frustration, or, even worse, take it out on other people, especially those that I care for. It is something that I have to always work on.
I think its important for any student of any age to realize that there is not a place in time where growing and education stops (and especially personal education), and especially even after the formal side of education is over. I find that most of my best ideas about band concerts, personal ideas and discoveries, etc. come as I lay in bed at night, when all of the daily noise is subsided and out of the way. I think of formal education as that noise that lays down the lines during the day, and that time before you go to bed as the time when all of those lines start to cross each other to make connections that you could not hear before because so much was in the way to prevent these thought processes.
God only knows that there is so much that I need to work on to improve myself.
The last time I took the time to view it, I really tried to understand more of Patrick Swayze's character involvement in the film and his parody of most "self help gurus" using his fear and love spectral analysis. Donnie's argument was that you simply cannot classify things in life into just one or two parts of a linear spectrum, but it really got me wondering:
How many of my decisions on a daily basis are based on fear?
Well, maybe not so much fear as pride. But can't pride almost run symmetrical with fear? Pride runs very deep in my family, and while some view it as only a positive, there are times when pride can blind, create tunnel vision, and cloud the decision making and creative process.
For example, in my last wind symphony class with the Upper School Band, we were working very hard on a piece and I made the mistake of saying that one of my flutes was playing a part incorrectly when it was one of the other flute players. The accused flute player told me that it was not her and the other flute admitted that it was her instead. Now, the students know me well enough to know that I am usually cool when I make a mistake, but instead, I got a little hot headed about it. It stuck with me for the rest of the day and I felt incredibly guilty for reacting like that and apologized to both students later on. Unfortunately, my personal pride got in the way, and blocked me from showing my students that it is Ok to make these kinds of mistakes. Even after all the degrees, college time, experience, and everything else, we are only human, after all.
It's funny though, you think that as you get older that these kinds of things would become easier to handle, but, in fact, they just become easier to mask and more complex to deal with.
Another thing that becomes more apparent as you get older is your self confidence. Right now, I am a thirty year old single male who is overweight and balding. I am usually not the most engaging guy when it comes to conversation, and would rather spend time in seclusion then go out with friends. My recent illness has shown me that I am not, in fact, superhuman, and have limits to what I can do and how far I can push myself. These things are not easy for me to get over sometimes, and like most people my age, we mask these lackings and cover it with anger, frustration, or, even worse, take it out on other people, especially those that I care for. It is something that I have to always work on.
I think its important for any student of any age to realize that there is not a place in time where growing and education stops (and especially personal education), and especially even after the formal side of education is over. I find that most of my best ideas about band concerts, personal ideas and discoveries, etc. come as I lay in bed at night, when all of the daily noise is subsided and out of the way. I think of formal education as that noise that lays down the lines during the day, and that time before you go to bed as the time when all of those lines start to cross each other to make connections that you could not hear before because so much was in the way to prevent these thought processes.
God only knows that there is so much that I need to work on to improve myself.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Remembering the old farm
It's about 3:40 in the morning, and I can't sleep, so why not blog a little bit? Not much intelligent thought going into this one tonight, so I might just end up jumping into thirty topics, or I may just hit a few, who knows. When you are single and its Saturday night (or early Sunday morning, in this case), the world is yours to conquer, eh?
I think that most people have (in some variation or another) very special places that they always keep in their heart. I want to share one of mine with you. I do actually visit it quite often (probably more than I should), but it is always a quiet remembrance of what was, and what has become. My first visions that I can remember in life come from this place. Mostly what I vaguely remember is riding in this baby carrier that was placed in front of this rolling tram. This tram would roll up and down this huge corridor and I would sit there for hours at a time, staring blankly at about a quarter mile of chickens. Yes, numerous chickens. My dad, while working for the corps of engineers (after he retired from being a principal and coaching basketball), built a large chicken farm. This farm is located about one mile from this super tiny town called Story in west Arkansas. Story is about eighteen miles from Mount Ida, which is about sixty miles from Hot Springs, going towards Fort Smith. But, digressing, I remember riding on this tram, while my parents were working hard picking up eggs. When my parents were not looking, I would pick up a few of the eggs from right behind me, and throw them as hard as I could at these chickens. The chickens would go nuts whenever I did so, and usually I would get scolded from mom for doing so. Those are my actual first memories of my life.
Actually, I think my first true crystal clear memory that has stayed with me until today was when I took a sight test before I started Kindergarden at Mount Ida Elementary. I was supposed to say which animal that this arrow was pointing to in an eye test type machine. I saw a doggie and liked it so I simply said the dog every time the doctor asked where the arrow was pointing. I was, and still am, a weird kid.
We lived on the farm until I was about seven, moved to Dewitt, Arkansas where we swatted mosquitoes nightly for a few years, then ended up settling in Sheridan in about 1988. I still manage to visit the farm every now and then. Unfortunately, it is one of those things that is exciting for me and sad at the same time. Keith Smith farms, who ran most of the chicken farms of the area, closed down quite a few of the farms there, and our farm is basically abandoned. The old house is still standing and still has a pad lock on it, and there are things laying everywhere from some family that owned it after we moved on. Looking inside, there is an old computer that is laying near the window and I can see little parts of the ceiling inside starting to cave in. I imagine that some bank owns it after a foreclosure from someone, but that is just guessing.
It's peaceful though. It is hard to find an area anywhere in this day and age and just be able to hear nothing. Does that make sense? I think that silence is something we should all experience more often, as silly as it sounds. Visiting this farm by myself, in the dead of winter, it is amazing how quiet it is. It is kind of like when you first get your cell phone when you are young. You WANT people to call you. You WANT that noise in your life. Now, I wish I could throw my cell phone out the window half the time, even though I know I won't because my Iphone is both the love and the hate in my life. :)
It is my dream to go back to this farm to retire one day. And not just any farm. THIS specific farm. I want my last years on this wonderful planet to give back to this land that gave me so many memories growing up. Maybe I will grow a beet farm like Dwight on "The Office". Maybe somebody has been watching too many Office reruns on his DVR lately.
Other specific memories that come from the farm:
1. My brother jumping out of my closet, scaring me to death one night while I was just laying down to go to bed. I never forgave him, and he still talks about it every Christmas we get together.
2. Playing endlessly on my Atari 2600 and on my first computer, a Commodore Vic-20. Awesome machines, although the Commodore was basically worthless. You gotta love simple basic programming though! (10 Print "Bart is a dork", 20 Goto 10, run)
3. Listening in on phone conversations on our party line. Yes, it was 1985, and yes, we still had a party line. For those who are younger, in some remote places, you would actually share phone lines with your neighbors. We shared with my grandparents, who lived across the street, and with our neighbors down the road. And EVERYONE in our neighborhood played Dialing for Dollars on the mid day local news shows, so we all constantly checked each other to make sure that the phone lines were not tied up.
4. Lying to my school bus driver and telling him that my mom and dad said I could go to my friends house far down the street to hang out. I remember watching Transformers at his house, then having my brother come pick me up on the four wheeler, and then having my mom and dad freak out on me a little for not telling them.
So many other memories come to mind now, that I could probably keep writing all night. I guess everyone has this kind of place that they hold very sacred. This is just one of mine.
I think that most people have (in some variation or another) very special places that they always keep in their heart. I want to share one of mine with you. I do actually visit it quite often (probably more than I should), but it is always a quiet remembrance of what was, and what has become. My first visions that I can remember in life come from this place. Mostly what I vaguely remember is riding in this baby carrier that was placed in front of this rolling tram. This tram would roll up and down this huge corridor and I would sit there for hours at a time, staring blankly at about a quarter mile of chickens. Yes, numerous chickens. My dad, while working for the corps of engineers (after he retired from being a principal and coaching basketball), built a large chicken farm. This farm is located about one mile from this super tiny town called Story in west Arkansas. Story is about eighteen miles from Mount Ida, which is about sixty miles from Hot Springs, going towards Fort Smith. But, digressing, I remember riding on this tram, while my parents were working hard picking up eggs. When my parents were not looking, I would pick up a few of the eggs from right behind me, and throw them as hard as I could at these chickens. The chickens would go nuts whenever I did so, and usually I would get scolded from mom for doing so. Those are my actual first memories of my life.
Actually, I think my first true crystal clear memory that has stayed with me until today was when I took a sight test before I started Kindergarden at Mount Ida Elementary. I was supposed to say which animal that this arrow was pointing to in an eye test type machine. I saw a doggie and liked it so I simply said the dog every time the doctor asked where the arrow was pointing. I was, and still am, a weird kid.
We lived on the farm until I was about seven, moved to Dewitt, Arkansas where we swatted mosquitoes nightly for a few years, then ended up settling in Sheridan in about 1988. I still manage to visit the farm every now and then. Unfortunately, it is one of those things that is exciting for me and sad at the same time. Keith Smith farms, who ran most of the chicken farms of the area, closed down quite a few of the farms there, and our farm is basically abandoned. The old house is still standing and still has a pad lock on it, and there are things laying everywhere from some family that owned it after we moved on. Looking inside, there is an old computer that is laying near the window and I can see little parts of the ceiling inside starting to cave in. I imagine that some bank owns it after a foreclosure from someone, but that is just guessing.
It's peaceful though. It is hard to find an area anywhere in this day and age and just be able to hear nothing. Does that make sense? I think that silence is something we should all experience more often, as silly as it sounds. Visiting this farm by myself, in the dead of winter, it is amazing how quiet it is. It is kind of like when you first get your cell phone when you are young. You WANT people to call you. You WANT that noise in your life. Now, I wish I could throw my cell phone out the window half the time, even though I know I won't because my Iphone is both the love and the hate in my life. :)
It is my dream to go back to this farm to retire one day. And not just any farm. THIS specific farm. I want my last years on this wonderful planet to give back to this land that gave me so many memories growing up. Maybe I will grow a beet farm like Dwight on "The Office". Maybe somebody has been watching too many Office reruns on his DVR lately.
Other specific memories that come from the farm:
1. My brother jumping out of my closet, scaring me to death one night while I was just laying down to go to bed. I never forgave him, and he still talks about it every Christmas we get together.
2. Playing endlessly on my Atari 2600 and on my first computer, a Commodore Vic-20. Awesome machines, although the Commodore was basically worthless. You gotta love simple basic programming though! (10 Print "Bart is a dork", 20 Goto 10, run)
3. Listening in on phone conversations on our party line. Yes, it was 1985, and yes, we still had a party line. For those who are younger, in some remote places, you would actually share phone lines with your neighbors. We shared with my grandparents, who lived across the street, and with our neighbors down the road. And EVERYONE in our neighborhood played Dialing for Dollars on the mid day local news shows, so we all constantly checked each other to make sure that the phone lines were not tied up.
4. Lying to my school bus driver and telling him that my mom and dad said I could go to my friends house far down the street to hang out. I remember watching Transformers at his house, then having my brother come pick me up on the four wheeler, and then having my mom and dad freak out on me a little for not telling them.
So many other memories come to mind now, that I could probably keep writing all night. I guess everyone has this kind of place that they hold very sacred. This is just one of mine.
Thursday, January 07, 2010
My Personal Experience with Anxiety Disorder and a Panic Attack
The funny thing is that I can remember exactly when it started, and not much else afterwards. Or maybe I just don't want to most of the time. Pride runs strong in my family, after all.
It was after a band booster meeting that went really well, but followed a tough day at school. I had an argument with two of my superiors earlier that morning, and the anxiety of the day was building up through my body. About one mile past PA, at the K-Mart on Hinson road, it happened. I could feel my bodily extremeties go numb. There was a numbness in my hands and in my feet that I had never experienced before. My face went cold and I felt like I could black out at any moment. The first thought that came to mind was "Oh my god, I am having a heart attack." But, my breathing was normal and I wasn't feeling ill. In this half confused state, I called the first person I could think of on my cell phone. Eric answered. I told him something was wrong with me, I wasn't sure what, and asked him to just talk with me on my way home. All the while my heart felt like it was racing a hundred miles an hour. Once home, I just could not force myself to sit or be still. I simply found myself pacing. I called my doctor, and she said that I should be fine, just find a place to lie down. I tried, I really did, but it felt like it was getting worse. I immediately went upstairs to my neighbor and knocked on the door. Being the awesome guy he is, he let me in, and we just talked. He could tell something was wrong with me. I had no idea what was happening to me (Come to find out later, it was simply a huge rush of uncontrolled adrenaline). The only two things that were on my mind was heart attack and the fact that I could be dying. I finally asked him to dial 911 for me. I also called my friend Meg, who was already on her way. (My family was on a cruise, and I didn't want to bother them) The ambulance arrived, and did a check on me. My heart rate was fine and I seemed healthy to them. I did not understand what was going on at all. My body felt on the verge of something, but I was not sure what it was. We went to the emergency room. After doing some tests, it was found that I had experienced a panic attack for the first time in my life. After about an hour, I was starting to feel better, and I was released with my sister who took me back to our house in Sheridan.
Then the next morning I woke up. I will never forget the feeling. I woke up sharp at 9 AM and felt like my entire world had ended. Again, I was confused. I went through the rest of the day in a daze. There were times where I would cry at the smallest thing, where even something as silly as a serious movie or even a small conversation would set me off on a uncontrolled crying fit. For honestly the first time in my life, I felt entirely alone, and I had no idea why. My family finally arrived home, and my mother and father was extremely alarmed to find me in the state I was in. For some reason, my appetite had died out, and I found my stomach was completely clenched shut. There were many times where breathing was the most difficult thing to do. I could not force myself to be still or concentrate on anything for a long period of time.
Hours of medical tests were done, and nothing was found. According to the tests, I was completely healthy, and even more than I should be being a man of my size and weight, but yet I had gone through a week of feeling like my entire world had come to an end.
All during this time, I was at home, and not at work, but it was a living heck of a two weeks. I was never hungry, lost 20 pounds, could not bear to leave my parent's side, was afraid of driving, my body would not let me nap during the day, and I could hardly sleep at night, and I was just afraid. It felt like I was on the verge of a mental breakdown.
After giving the medications one week to start their work, I attempted to go to work. I was missing my kids and feeling extremely guilty for not being there to work for them. The band had to miss some away games because of my illness and it just didn't feel right for me to not be there. I can't tell you how long those days at work were, but they were probably the longest of my life. I honestly thought that I would have to give up my job at the end of the semester if things did not improve.
Things finally started to get better with time. The stomach untightened, and I found myself HUNGRY. Too hungry! It was the most WONDERFUL feeling in the world. The first night that I stayed in my apartment without fear was probably the best I have ever felt in my life.
Then I started finding other people out there that have had the same problem. Some messaged me through facebook, and even some people in my extended family started coming forward to talk with me about their experiences with panic and panic disorder. While it happens differently for people, it happens almost the same, if that makes any sense. But once you realize what it is, you can control it. Almost all of these people talking to me had never really talked to anyone about these kinds of problems before, because they were worried that people would think they were either crazy or incapable of handling their own personal lives and jobs.
When you experience something like this, it makes you have a new respect on how powerful your mind can be, and how, when it is out of balance chemically, it can change your entire life. It is hard for some people to understand that these are not character flaws you are experiencing, but simply a type of medical issue.
In today's American society where we have some many pressures put on us, don't forget the important things in life, and make sure that you have a strong and positive support structure around you. Before these attacks, I was spending at least 12 hours a day working, and not much else. It really IS important for you to have a personal life outside of work, and to realize how important your family and friends can be for you, especially in your toughest time.
Sometimes it does take something traumatic in your life to remember what really is important.
It was after a band booster meeting that went really well, but followed a tough day at school. I had an argument with two of my superiors earlier that morning, and the anxiety of the day was building up through my body. About one mile past PA, at the K-Mart on Hinson road, it happened. I could feel my bodily extremeties go numb. There was a numbness in my hands and in my feet that I had never experienced before. My face went cold and I felt like I could black out at any moment. The first thought that came to mind was "Oh my god, I am having a heart attack." But, my breathing was normal and I wasn't feeling ill. In this half confused state, I called the first person I could think of on my cell phone. Eric answered. I told him something was wrong with me, I wasn't sure what, and asked him to just talk with me on my way home. All the while my heart felt like it was racing a hundred miles an hour. Once home, I just could not force myself to sit or be still. I simply found myself pacing. I called my doctor, and she said that I should be fine, just find a place to lie down. I tried, I really did, but it felt like it was getting worse. I immediately went upstairs to my neighbor and knocked on the door. Being the awesome guy he is, he let me in, and we just talked. He could tell something was wrong with me. I had no idea what was happening to me (Come to find out later, it was simply a huge rush of uncontrolled adrenaline). The only two things that were on my mind was heart attack and the fact that I could be dying. I finally asked him to dial 911 for me. I also called my friend Meg, who was already on her way. (My family was on a cruise, and I didn't want to bother them) The ambulance arrived, and did a check on me. My heart rate was fine and I seemed healthy to them. I did not understand what was going on at all. My body felt on the verge of something, but I was not sure what it was. We went to the emergency room. After doing some tests, it was found that I had experienced a panic attack for the first time in my life. After about an hour, I was starting to feel better, and I was released with my sister who took me back to our house in Sheridan.
Then the next morning I woke up. I will never forget the feeling. I woke up sharp at 9 AM and felt like my entire world had ended. Again, I was confused. I went through the rest of the day in a daze. There were times where I would cry at the smallest thing, where even something as silly as a serious movie or even a small conversation would set me off on a uncontrolled crying fit. For honestly the first time in my life, I felt entirely alone, and I had no idea why. My family finally arrived home, and my mother and father was extremely alarmed to find me in the state I was in. For some reason, my appetite had died out, and I found my stomach was completely clenched shut. There were many times where breathing was the most difficult thing to do. I could not force myself to be still or concentrate on anything for a long period of time.
Hours of medical tests were done, and nothing was found. According to the tests, I was completely healthy, and even more than I should be being a man of my size and weight, but yet I had gone through a week of feeling like my entire world had come to an end.
All during this time, I was at home, and not at work, but it was a living heck of a two weeks. I was never hungry, lost 20 pounds, could not bear to leave my parent's side, was afraid of driving, my body would not let me nap during the day, and I could hardly sleep at night, and I was just afraid. It felt like I was on the verge of a mental breakdown.
After giving the medications one week to start their work, I attempted to go to work. I was missing my kids and feeling extremely guilty for not being there to work for them. The band had to miss some away games because of my illness and it just didn't feel right for me to not be there. I can't tell you how long those days at work were, but they were probably the longest of my life. I honestly thought that I would have to give up my job at the end of the semester if things did not improve.
Things finally started to get better with time. The stomach untightened, and I found myself HUNGRY. Too hungry! It was the most WONDERFUL feeling in the world. The first night that I stayed in my apartment without fear was probably the best I have ever felt in my life.
Then I started finding other people out there that have had the same problem. Some messaged me through facebook, and even some people in my extended family started coming forward to talk with me about their experiences with panic and panic disorder. While it happens differently for people, it happens almost the same, if that makes any sense. But once you realize what it is, you can control it. Almost all of these people talking to me had never really talked to anyone about these kinds of problems before, because they were worried that people would think they were either crazy or incapable of handling their own personal lives and jobs.
When you experience something like this, it makes you have a new respect on how powerful your mind can be, and how, when it is out of balance chemically, it can change your entire life. It is hard for some people to understand that these are not character flaws you are experiencing, but simply a type of medical issue.
In today's American society where we have some many pressures put on us, don't forget the important things in life, and make sure that you have a strong and positive support structure around you. Before these attacks, I was spending at least 12 hours a day working, and not much else. It really IS important for you to have a personal life outside of work, and to realize how important your family and friends can be for you, especially in your toughest time.
Sometimes it does take something traumatic in your life to remember what really is important.
Monday, January 04, 2010
The Trials and Tribulations of being a small band director
I love teaching small bands now, but hated it at first. When one graduates college as a music education major, one usually has this grand idea of stepping in front of a 300 piece band and just marvelling at their creation that came so quickly without much work under your guidance, and with 300 kids instantly looking up to you as their leader, overlord, and deity.
Then the real world sets in. One without any kind of experience either has to come off looking flawless in an interview with a principal or superintendent, or have a friend in the band directing field that they can be an assistant to. Sometimes they work up quickly, and perhaps is in the right place at the right time, and sometimes they are not. That is just life. Then one comes to understand that being a true band director is ultimately about 60% non-music related business and about 40% music related. This, of course, fluxes back and forth depending on what kind of situation one is in.
When one comes up to me and tells me that they guess I am looking forward to graduating a few of my classes so I can get my larger middle school and sixth grade bands up to the high school level to build up the numbers, I just smile and shake my head, usually pretending to agree to be nice, because that would be a normal feeling for most directors.
The truth is, I love this band right now just the way it is. Every student in the Upper School Band (all 17 of them) are playing at least at an 85% level of their personal ability. Most are in the 90 percentile range. They always give a great attitude in what they do (even if it is different or something they are against at first) and go out and ALWAYS perform BETTER than the time before. We have not had one performance that was worse than the previous in the past three years.
Now, sure, we are not going to go to concert contest with this group and make a 1. Judges will look at our instrumentation, see the lack of tenor voices, notice how our saxes outweigh the other members, and put down a predestined 2 or 3, no matter how great our group sounds. That is simply the way of things.
But that is not the point of why we do what we do, and it will never be as long as I am director. The PA Band is about providing a way for students to have an output from one of the most rigorous and difficult academic programs in the entire state. It is about learning to work with one another and show that even though we are not of the same blood, we can still work and function as a family. With a band of 17, I know each student by heart, and I have come to love each of them because of their differences, and how they have learned to come together as one unit.
I am going to cry my eyes out when I lose my seniors this year to that terrible curse known as graduation. They have been through so much, and have dealt with so much change. They, along with every other member of that band, have used these experiences to come together, and not let the negativity of the past pull them apart. There is so much more than any other person in that school realizes they have been through in their seven+ years of experience with the band director changes.
We have the best small band in Arkansas under 20 people. You can't tell me differently. And any director or person that looks down on us because of our numbers, you just simply can't understand how special this group is.
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