The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

 "Music is a more potent instrument than any other for education." - Plato

There are some people who don’t consider it fall until they get that first pumpkin spice latte of the season. Others don’t feel like it is fall until the morning air is crisp enough to wear that new sweater they’ll inevitably regret by the afternoon.

But for me? It doesn’t feel like fall until I hear the sound of a drumline playing "8 On a Hand." (And no, it's not just because I married a drummer.) I’ve been around marching band since I was five years old, but I still get goosebumps when I hear it. I fall into step with the beat without even thinking about it.

My fall schedule was filled with band competitions every weekend for over a decade. My first clear memory of marching band was in kindergarten when I sat in the stands at Murray State and watched my oldest sister win the big hometown competition way back in 1995. I watched the color guard in absolute awe and decided right then and there that’s what I was going to do when I got to high school. 

I started taking piano lessons when I was five or six years old. I like to think I was pretty good at it, and it is one of my biggest regrets that I didn't continue to practice even after I stopped taking lessons. (It's true what they say - if you don't use it, you lose it.) Then when I was in middle school, I started playing the clarinet. I was decent, but marching season and color guard was always the best part of band for me.

While winning competitions and the rush of performing in a stadium full of people was fun, I learned a lot in my seven years in a public school music education program.  As a current public school teacher, it baffles me that music education is too often put on the back burner in favor of what some might consider more practical educational pursuits.  

The benefits of music education are well-documented.  A simple Google search will show hundreds of articles and studies that show music education improves memory, language and reasoning skills, strengthens hand-eye coordination, and promotes creativity and collaboration. I learned so much more than just how to play an instrument, toss a flag, and march with a precise roll step.

I learned that anything worth doing is worth doing right. My director had high expectations for his students, even when it came to what might be considered trivial things. Your shoes better be pristine for performances. It wasn’t enough to hit close to your drill spot. It wasn’t acceptable to repeatedly miss a note or drop a toss. Everything was rehearsed until it was perfected, and everybody knew that "one more time" usually meant ten more times. Oh, and you better not turn in your uniform if it wasn’t hung up correctly. 

The details mattered. If you didn’t learn how to do the small things right, you didn’t stand a chance of doing the big things right.

I learned what it meant to have other people depending on me to pull my weight. I was fortunate to perform with the high school band for five seasons. It wasn’t because I was a prodigy or anything; a girl in the color guard quit after the first week of camp. The best option was to replace that person with an 8th grader. My sister was already there, so it was a decision that was based more on convenience than actual talent. I had to learn what other people had over a week to learn in 4 days and with only half the practice time throughout the season. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but you know what would have been worse? Having a gaping hole in your drill. It can completely ruin the visual effect of a show. 

When I had 70-80 other people depending on me, I learned the importance of showing up and following through with my commitments. If anyone was half-assing things, everyone knew about it. Maybe that seems harsh in a world that encourages adults to treat teenagers with kid gloves these days (pun intended), but I can say without a doubt that the healthy fear of being held accountable pushed me to be better.

I learned to win and lose with grace.  I was only competitive about two things in school: grades and band. I was a part of what I refer to as the "golden era" of marching band at the high school I attended.  We worked really hard, had excellent teachers and staff working with us, and had the best parents supporting us.  We won a lot and were even the state runners up in Class 4A  my senior year. 

However, there were also crushing defeats.  I still remember that gut wrenching feeling of missing the state finals competition by less than one point my freshman year.  I remember going to competitions where the judging seemed unfair.  But at the end of the day, I learned to focus on what was in my control – my effort and my attitude.  

I'm not saying I was always the model of sportsmanship because it was definitely a learning process. But the camaraderie among band kids is unique.  Even if we weren't the winners, I still learned to appreciate and respect the hard work and the talent of other programs. 

But perhaps most importantly, I learned the value of relationships. Band kids tend to stick together. I graduated from high school over 15 years ago, and pretty much the only people I’ve maintained relationships with are people I met in band. Heck, I even married one of them.

During marching season, I often spent more time with my director, Mr. Mullins, than my own parents. He taught all three of the Futrell sisters, and all three of us have a photo of Mr. Mullins handing us our diplomas when we walked across the stage at graduation. 

I still try to attend the competition hosted at Murray State. It’s become my ritual to climb to the top level of Roy Stewart Stadium and find Mr. Mullins in the stands. He’s one of the few teachers I have kept up with over the years. We catch up between performances, and it always feels like I’m getting insider information when I ask him for his professional opinion on each show. 

Many of his former students went on to pursue degrees in education, and I hardly think that’s a coincidence. We want to carry on his legacy by being the kind of teacher for this generation that he was for all of us. 

So the next time you're at the Friday night football game, instead of running to the concession stand at halftime, watch the band perform their show.  When you see a band program hosting a fundraiser, give if you can.  If your kid wants to pursue learning a musical instrument, whether that's in a school band program or not, encourage them.  If they join a band program (or any extracurricular) and want to quit halfway through the year, teach them to keep their commitment. And the next time you hear a drumline warming up in a parking lot somewhere, take time to enjoy the sound of fall.

- Meg