It all started at band camp. When I was in the fifth grade, I was a dreadful saxophone player. I squeaked and I squawked and my notes sounded like goats in choir practice.
My parents thought it would be a good idea if I attended band camp. I was so shy and quiet, I found it intimidating. But I also wanted to improve so I agreed. However, when I learned about the terrible, the awful, the ghastly "buddy system", I wanted to cringe. The thought of spending your entire time with one person who I had nothing in common with actually made me sick to my stomach. But this system would ultimately change my life for the better.
My "buddy" was a tall, lanky senior who was the most outgoing and gregarious person I've ever met. On top of that, he was one of the best players I've ever encountered. The band director passed this groovy Latin piece during the Jazz Band portion of the camp. My buddy played it perfectly, not missing an accent or a dynamic marking; even his articulation was perfection. I spent most of my time figuring out the fingerings of the first measure. So, I couldn't believe when my so called "buddy" shot up from his seat and volunteered me for the opening solo. Delighted, the band director placed a microphone in front of me and told me to play. Immediately I felt my face burn deep red as the eyes of every student were upon me. Me, the timid, awful saxophone player who could barely play a note was now about to embarrass himself in front of forty kids. I honestly had no idea where to start. I picked a note and kept playing different rhythms on that same note. It had to be the worst twelve-bar solo in the history of American Jazz. When I finished the solo, I felt a bead of sweat trickle down the side of my face. But then I heard something else. A roaring applause from all of my peers. They were clapping and cheering and, although I knew it was dreadful, even the band director showered me with praise. I realized I wasn't being celebrated for my superior musical ability; I was being recognized for taking a chance and putting myself out there.
Everything changed for me that day. Instead of dreading time with my "buddy", I looked forward to working with him. I made new friends and became more confident in myself. Most of all I learned that I didn't need to be perfect before I stood up and tried something new. As the years passed, I became a mentor at band camp and strived to give the younger kids the same amazing experience I had. I'm very grateful for the lessons I learned from my "buddy" about courage and taking chances. My years at band camp have taught me that sometimes I need to step outside of my comfort zone in order to reach my goals. It's not always easy or comfortable, but the end result is worth it.