The transition from middle school to high school can be a rough one. The increase in homework, opportunity, and independence tends to be overwhelming for most. On top of that, academics are taken more seriously as students start thinking about what they want to do after high school. Friends often part ways as they get more involved in their own activities and of course, high school is the time when teenagers' social lives take priority-- for the better or for the worse.

My transition went as smoothly as a 15 year old could hope for. I was scarcely ever overwhelmed by the work load, I took advantage of several new opportunities, and I welcomed my new found independence with open arms. After a few months I felt I had tackled these three pillars of high school with confidence, and I can thank drumline for allowing me to do so.

I'd been looking forward to being on my high school's drumline since I was in fifth grade, the year my brother first marched. At the end of eighth grade, I went to my first drumline rehearsal, with no idea what to expect. There were about eight or nine other kids there and I only recognized one fellow eighth grader. The rest were high school students who had marched before. Brent, the drumline instructor at the time, recognized me as the younger sibling of one of his former tenor players, and gladly welcomed my desire to play the snare drum as a freshman.

At that first rehearsal we were introduced to a college student named Trey. Trey had marched with my brother when they were a senior and junior, respectively, but I didn't know this until later in the season. Trey was going to be the snare drum instructor under Brent for the season. To start rehearsal, Trey went down the line of snares and asked us each to hit the drum individually. I was the last to go and absolutely terrified because I had never actually played a drum like this before. It had a Kevlar head, and we used drumsticks much heavier than ones I used on my drum kit. So I did my best to match the technique he described and hit the drum.

The sound emitted was dull and quiet. A teddy bear when compared to the roaring, grizzly sounds that came from the other, experienced drummers.

“I said hit the drum,” Trey said, as someone down the line released a muffled laugh under their breath. It was a weird, almost nervous laugh, and over a year later I'm still not sure if that person pitied me and didn't know how to react, or if they were mocking me. Either way I felt defeated. For years I had thought I was a great drummer, and in five words, Trey, who I now know to be a kind and helpful instructor, broke me. I tried again and again with the same results, as Trey attempted to explain to me what I was doing wrong.
“You need to play from the wrist and hit the drum as if you're trying to hit the bottom head. Use the rebound of the drum to bring the stick back up to maximum height, and get rid of all tension. Stay completely relaxed.”

There were so many things to focus on and I quickly realized how mentally engaging this activity was. Eventually Trey had to move on, so we continued through the rehearsal while I tried to produce the quality of sound the instructors were looking for, in addition to maintaining the technique we were taught. Slowly I got the hang of it. We had rehearsals every week throughout the summer and I could tell I was progressing between every single one.

Towards the end of the summer, just before band camp, I started to think that my dream of being on the snare line as a freshman would be fulfilled. I was getting a handle on the technique and I wasn't too bad at marching with a drum on, considering how small I was at the time. By this point I had actually met some of the older kids on the drumline, and while I was talking to them someone mentioned how much they were not looking forward to band camp.

“Why is that?” I inquired.

“Once band camp starts, Brent gets serious. He’s nice and relaxed during the summer rehearsals, but in a couple weeks, drumline gets intense.”

I began to worry immediately, questioning if I was actually good at the activity or if Brent would be calling me out a lot for mistakes. I really didn't know the difference between good drumming and bad drumming at this point, as I hadn't actually marched before.

The next two weeks flew by. The night before my first day of band camp I was practicing the show music that we would be working on the next day frantically, worried of what might happen if I didn't know it.

The next morning I was given uplifting news, and discouraging news.. The uplifting news was that Brent got promoted at his school and would no longer have time to be our instructor. I had mixed feelings about this. I was moderately relieved at being able to avoid the Brent’s intensity during band camp, but I also knew that Brent was an experienced instructor who could make us a great line. Then there was the discouraging news.

“Unfortunately there's a hole on the bass line, and we need to put you there to fill it.” That's what I was told.

My frustration, anger, and displeasure all bubbled up immediately. But just as quickly as they came, they vanished, because I knew I was the freshman, and if I wanted to move up the totem pole, I couldn't be bitter about starting at the bottom. So I proceeded through the season on bass drum, and I'm certainly glad I did.

After the first day of band camp, I learned just how physically tiring marching is, in addition to the mental taxation. By now I've seen football players, the big hotshots of high school, attempt and fail at marching, but until that day, I had never understood the skill required for the activity. The bass drum was lighter than the snare, and there were far less notes I had to worry about memorizing compared to the snare drummers. Being on bass drum for that first season allowed me to learn how to march while playing music, without driving me to insanity by being too difficult.

By the end of the season, as sick as I was of the bass drum, I was thankful to the staff for putting me there. I was now confident that I'd be able to take on the snare drum for the indoor season, and for the rest of high school. I might even be captain senior year!

When indoor season started, one of the snares from outdoor needed to move to the front ensemble to play the drum set for our show. I knew that the newly opened spot could be mine if I really wanted it. After weeks of “tech” rehearsals, which are the equivalent of summer rehearsals for outdoor season, we had auditions. I was the third person to audition on snare, and I played through the exercises we had been working on for several weeks. After I finished my audition Trey walked up to me and said with a smile,
“That was much better than the first time I heard you hit the drum.” Mr. Stafford, our new instructor since August, followed up with something along the lines of,
“Welcome to the snare line.”

Those five words sparked a confidence in myself that ended my transitional period from middle school to high school and captured how all of the work I’d put into drumming paid off. Those five words taught me that any amount of work can be completed with dedication, that to achieve something requires one to take hold of any and all opportunities, and that as an individual, I can accomplish anything by taking those opportunities, and dedicating myself to them.