For Little Timmy and His Clarinet

Every time I go to a middle school or high school or elementary school band concert, I find myself on the edge of my seat.

Yeah, I’m analyzing everything about the performance. The intonation. The articulation. Who’s playing on a student saxophone… The front and back ends of notes. The squeaks. The general musicality. I try to find the energy, the life in the performance that every band,¬†from age 9-119 strives for.

I’m sitting on the edge of my seat, and I feel like I know that this is exactly what I want to grow up to do. I want to take a group of kids, and capture their attention and effort and interest by all means possible. I want to turn them into, no, help them lead themselves into becoming musicians. Performers. Confident, capable people, who become more of a success than they would have ever previously imagined.

I want to problem solve. Locate issues in timing. Tonguing. Breathing. And I want to spend my brain power thinking of all the ways to solve it. Make up unique, hilarious, effective analogies. Make up exercises. I want to find what makes it all click for my students, and I want us all to learn from what I discover.

I want to stand up tall (as tall as I can) and fight. Put my foot down against budget cuts. Advocate with all the drive and passion and creativity I possess for little Timmy’s opportunity to play clarinet in the band during the school day without his musicianship being treated as a nuisance. I want to band (no pun intended) together with all the music teachers in the universe and make it clear to everyone that what we have to offer is far too valuable to ignore, subsidize, forget.

I’ll be on the edge of my seat and all my excitement and passion for being a future music educator just hits me all at once and there’ll be these tears in my eyes. Every concert. Every time.

I guess for now, I know what I’m meant to do.

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