Like a Father free essay sample

The Saturday night air blows through the field, the cold breeze just grazing across my face. Chills jolt down my spine, raising the hair on my arms as the crowd continues to cheer. A voice is heard over the loud speaker, Drum major, is your band ready? signaling our cue to salute. The salute is crisp, clean, like a well oiled machine. I climb the podium ladder, each step feeling miles apart. This is the time. The next 8 minutes of my life will represent everything; 7 years, countless hours of practice, and the success of 250 others riding under my wing. I make eye contact with my director. He looks on confidently, yet with great understanding. He knows Im ready, he believes in me. Before I know it, were off. 56. 5 6 7 8. Ive never really been a head strong kind of kid. For as long as I remember, its been play now, work later. We will write a custom essay sample on Like a Father or any similar topic specifically for you Do Not WasteYour Time HIRE WRITER Only 13.90 / page Life was a treat. Coasting through school classes on c average grades seemed to be the norm by the time I hit high school. By then, I was your typical ready-to-drop-out freshman, who was, well, ready to drop out. The only things keeping me were friends, parents, and the law. Along with the bare minimum classes on my schedule, I had elected to take band, mainly because I expected it to be an easy, blow-off class. But what I didnt know about the Westlake high school band was that it was notorious for being one of the best marching bands in the state of Texas. It was understood that in order achieve that reputation, long arduous work had to be put in from every member of the band. Understandably, I was terrified. I had coasted through school on the basis that the work I did didnt affect anyone other than me. Knowing that band was a cohesive unit, and that each member contributed to the overall success of the organization, I was going to have to change. Despite my determination to avoid the personal conversations with the directors concerning my lack of initiative to fight for the team, it proved itself unavoidable. The fruitless talks and deteriorating class grades didnt do the trick. I continued to trudge on, and on, and on, through the eternity that was two years of high school marching band. Though frowned upon, my inherent laziness worked, at least before. The upper class-men who had carried us through victory after victory for the past two years were now gone, and I suddenly found myself straining under the weight of all the high expectations. Despite the immense pressure, it wasnt enough to break the deeply embedded laziness that I had come to know and hate. To me, it wasnt worth fighting for. There was no reason in my mind that would justify my going above and beyond what was needed. I needed something more. I needed something that I couldnt find within myself. It was a Thursday morning. The frigid November air felt almost as dull as the morning marching routine that we somehow managed to call a rehearsal. We had just returned to the band hall where the melancholy atmosphere was finally beginning to lift as frozen fingers were melting back to life. Mr. Taylor stepped out of his office, pointed his arm in my direction, and drew me into his office with a stern curling of his index finger, the kind of motion that says you, here, now. Having never been in his office without leaving on the verge of tears, I began mentally preparing myself for the worst. The conversation began the same way as always. Though there was a different feel to it all. A sense of desperation began to appear in his voice, something Ive never heard before. He lectured me on the situation at hand before telling me exactly what I needed to hear. He told me that I will never know the true extent of my influence. He said I could be the difference between the well known and we ll hated 11th place finish at Bands of America, and a long desired first place title. I had the power to change lives, and he knew it. I walked out of that office not with tears, but with desire; desire to be what no one expected me to be. I wanted to be the change that the band needed, so that I could leave high school knowing that I not only changed those around me, but that I changed myself. We ended my junior year with our worst result yet. There was an irreparable gloom hanging over the band after receiving our 26th place result at BOA far worse than the 11th place that was previously considered unacceptable. The pain and frustration I felt was superseded only by the emptiness felt by the senior class. They had to face the fact that all the hard work they put into band culminated into embarrassment and disappointment. That would not be my fate. My legacy wasnt going to be 26th place. My legacy would be here, now, on this Saturday night. It would be all those years of hard work flashing before the eyes of the 250 others riding under my wing while the results are being announced. It would be 7 years of dedication paying off in the last eight minutes. It would be doing what no one thought I could do. My legacy would be my director knowing he made the right choice as I step down from the podium at UIL State Finals.