Check. 2 pairs of shoes. Check. 6 shirts. Check. 1 pound bag of sour patch kids. Check. Water balloons. Check. “Alright, everything seems to be there.” I heard a faint ding from the other side of my bedroom, and went to read a new message on my phone. A message from a close friend read: “Dude im soo excited for camp but im really nervous.” Smiling, I replied, “Me too lol I just finished packing.” “What time are you getting there?” “Well the earliest we’re allowed 2 b there is 1 since practice starts @ 3, so prob 1:30-ish.” “K cool. C ya later,” she sent back. The car ride to Camp Bountiful would be about one and a half hours, according to Google Maps, so I checked my suitcase for the fourth time to make sure I had everything, and loaded it …show more content…
all into the car. Ready as I’ll ever be. It that wasn’t the truth, I don’t know what was. Having spent the car ride listening to music, my nerves had calmed by the time I got to camp, but it didn’t take long for me to regress. My hands were shaky and clammy. My eyes were bouncing off every inch of the camp lodge as I got myself checked in; I must have looked like a deer in the headlights. When I found the freshman girls’ cabin, thankfully, I found my friends as well, and for the most part, they all had the same look on their faces: uncertainty. After the general “hey” was exchanged, everyone was asking, “What do we do now?” It was worse for those of us who hadn’t had older siblings or parents to fill us in. I remember thinking how lucky one girl was when the first thing she did after she checked into our cabin, was join her older sister and other upperclassmen in the lodge. I had no such opportunity, and was left to my own devices for the hour that remained before practice. Of course, eventually everyone regrouped, and were given some direction. After a short practice, everyone would meet for dinner, and then back out to the field again with instruments. At dinner, the general rules of camp were restated for the what must’ve been the 5th or 6th time, and then some advice was given on how to operate at camp. “Rest during free time...Always be drinking water...Bring a towel out to calisthenics in the morning because the grass will be wet.” And then finally, one of the mantras of the marching season to come, “Keep going, even when you’re tired, dirty, hot, hungry, or thirsty.” It was certainly an alarming sentiment, one that guaranteed the week ahead was going to be rough, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready for it, but I was there, so I would have to do my best to cope. I’d never known the pain I experienced that Sunday night during our first three-hour practice.
Fire had spread across my lower back, shoulders, arms, abs, and calves. Oh, and my feet, how they ached. By the time it was 8:00, an hour before the end of practice, I was praying for it to end soon, and I wasn’t the only one. I heard uncomfortable shuffling all around me while we were at attention, people trying to relieve the pain. I heard mumblings among upperclassmen reassuring their freshmen newbies, “Just a little longer,” as the harsh sun sank lower and lower, until it was dark, and cold, but I kept my mouth shut, my eyes forward, and my ears listening. I had to be focused. There was so much to remember, and so much to do; it was overwhelming. Keeping the line, guiding to the left with peripheral vision, putting eight steps to every yard line, remembering when to move, where to move to, what to play, when to stop, and more was just so much to handle. I am going to get through this. The sweetest words I heard that day were, “Basses, set ‘em down.” I felt so alive as I lifted the thirty pound drum off my chest, and stretched. Practice had ended; I had survived day 1. After a short debriefing at center field, each section went their own way to celebrate, and then everyone to shower, and to bed. Each day continued with just as much struggle, if not more. I would learn to appreciate five-minute water breaks, and the occasional cookie served with the rest of our meal on lunch trays. I would learn to appreciate pointers from upperclassmen, and the friends that I would make that
week. The standard schedule ensued: awake at 5:00, calisthenics at 6:00, breakfast at 7:00, on-field practice at 8:00, lunch at 11:00, free-time at 12:00, sectionals at 2:30, dinner at 5:00, on-field practice at 6:00, free-time at 9:00, lights-outs at 11:00. Each day was themed differently, and Wednesday was known among the students to be“Mental Breakdown Day”, and Thursday was “Physical Breakdown Day.” The days fell into routine, and the band fell into one family, united by the struggles and effort put into that week. Contrary to the first day of camp, by the last day, I wasn’t ready to leave, although I was exhausted. I had created a haven for myself among my best friends. People who I had barely talked to prior to this stressful week gave out hugs and remarks such as, “I’m so proud of you.” Sad to be going home, I left stronger, more confident, with strange tan lines, and more friends. Eager to collapse into my own bed, I left with the joyful memories that would fill my dreams for weeks.
...a life lesson. The military style of drum line is what has helped me improve in my schoolwork, my family life, and my friendships; I was trained to never give up even if success seems impossible.
Looking around and seeing bright lights and feeling all eyes on you. Hearing both sides of the stadium cheer and shout for their teams and getting nervous during the last few seconds of the second quarter and at the same time being very proud of what the band has accomplished in the brief amount of time it took to learn the pretty intense and complex drill. Then suddenly you get the adrenaline rush that pushes you to perform. Many people would agree that being a drum major is one of the most eminent positions that is held by students who are Being the Drum Major of any band shows that you have the respect and trust of the members of the band and it’s directors. It also shows that you are passionate about what you do, responsible and that
As more of my teammates began to show up, I recognized most of them. However, I learned later that if I went on to play in the Spring, this would not be the same exact team I would play with. With only twenty minutes until we began,I put on all of my gear and my dad gave me a thorough warm up. Time seemed to fly by, and before I knew it, everyone was gathered together as positions were being assigned. I was originally overwhelmed with excitement, but as the game drew closer, the joy I had felt was replaced with anxiety. The lacrosse game taking place before ours ended and we entered and took our place on our bench. I recognized the opposing team’s jerseys quickly and identified them as a travel team from our area. Taking one final breath, I rushed into the lacrosse net enjoying my bird’s eye view, unsure of what was to
One of the biggest decisions of my high school career came my sophomore year when I decided to try out for the role of drum major in my high school band. This decision was very tough to make due to the fact that I was a sophomore, and although I already had three years of experience under my belt as a band member at Northview High School, I knew that it would be very tough to earn the respect of my peers if I succeeded in becoming drum major. Out of the three years I had spent in the band, the biggest influence on my decision to try out came from my very first marching season, between August and December of 2012. From that year forward, after seeing many areas that the band could improve, watching how underclassmen and middle school band members
The first few weeks of practice were full of bad attitudes and laziness. As a sophomore, I, along with the other underclassman, kept my mouth shut and put effort into practices. It was t...
I looked out at eighty sets of frustrated and tired eyes. It was my job as drum major to take these eighty marchers with their multitude of attitudes and unite them under the umbrella of productivity. When they let up, I push harder. When they push, I push harder. When they push harder, I push harder. On and off the field, I am their leader and their most dedicated servant.
Mauricio, being a freshman that was just placed in a random band class and having no knowledge of playing any type of instrument, is now a close friend that has had a change of heart about his views of marching band. Many can say, himself included, that he was just a “kid who was in a group of guys” that he called his friends, always one to get into trouble for the most childish things, but when joining this fine art he was able to “find structure and balance out [his] life” and “find his love for music”. When joining band, it can impact one’s life, no matter what circumstances you are in, it helps you find who you are as a person, and give you confidence to be able to pick yourself up after a downfall. Mauricio was able to discover his love for both saxophone and drumming. To this present day Mauricio now a junior in high school is the section leader of percussion. Having that position is not as easy as it sounds, it took him countless days and section leader battles to get him to where he is now. Making the heartbeat of the marching band sound incredibly sensational. Mauricio has overcome his obstacles and his so called “friends” who first judged him for being a part of the “lame” marching band, now salute him for not only being able to play two instruments, but for also expanding his horizons to play all different sorts of
It was our fifth day in the Philmont Scout Reservation in New Mexico, the halfway point of the trek. I as the Crew Leader was responsible for the other 11 members of the crew, including 4 adults. I was in charge, and amazingly the adults rarely tried to take over, although they would strongly advise me what to do in some situations. Phil, with the exception of me, the oldest scout and the Chaplain for the trip, was my second. Together we dealt with problems of making sure everyone carried the right amount of stuff in their pack to who had to cook and cleanup each day. The trip had gone well so far, no injuries, and the worst problem had been a faulty backpack. As I walked I thought about the upcoming campsite. Supposedly this one had running water from a solar powered pump—so had the last night’s site but the tank was too low to use for anything but cooking because the of how cloudy it had been of late. But today was bright and shinny, and hot, so I didn’t think there would be a problem.
However this rigidity didn't last because as soon as I stepped into the locker room the noise coming from the speakers hit me like a brick. The boys were dancing and everyone was trying to put themselves in the correct mindset. "Just go out there and do what you know you can." Coach exclaimed. Throughout the year our team had steam rolled most other teams and on top of an 18 game winning streak we realized that coach was right; if we just play our game the good things will come. So one by one we jumped onto the ice, hearing the crunching beneath our feet, this was it, the final
Growing up as an only child I made out pretty well. You almost can’t help but be spoiled by your parents in some way. And I must admit that I enjoyed it; my own room, T.V., computer, stereo, all the material possessions that I had. But there was one event in my life that would change the way that I looked at these things and realized that you can’t take these things for granted and that’s not what life is about.
You walk into the room and feel a warm gust of air greet you at the door. The smell of cleaner fills your nose as your shoes squeak along the freshly mopped mats. The clock strikes 3:30 and the coach blows his whistle that seems to penetrate your ears with a piercing screech. Your body aches and your mind tells you to leave and quit. On the other hand, your heart tells you to go on. Through all the pain, your heart always seems to whisper to you, “This will make you great. This extra day of pain will make the difference.” Even though practice makes your bones ache, your joints grind, your skin bleed, and your body swell; there is a greater hardship to come.
A calm crisp breeze circled my body as I sat emerged in my thoughts, hopes, and memories. The rough bark on which I sat reminded me of the rough road many people have traveled, only to end with something no one in human form can contemplate.
Two weeks before school even started, the Hotchkiss High School Marching Band began its march to the state-qualifying competition in Delta. We worked four hours a day for five days, getting our fundamentals going and getting a feel for our new show. Once school did start, we started practice at 7:00 a.m. and went for two hours every day, working on music and marching. Our band was once again small (eighteen people!), but our sound was great. It was actually easier trying to teach a smaller group because of the difficulty of the moves we were attempting. Of course, I didn't help matters much by my trials of congeniality with the podium. I figured if I didn't fly off with flapping of my arms, then surely I would walk right off the stand.
Yes, darling, you are required to get a checkup if you want to start kindergarten next month.
It was at this moment that I realized that there truly is no “I” in team. A team is not characterized by the individuals within, but rather what the individuals can come together to achieve. For so long I had tried to discover where I belonged on the team. In reality, I should have realized that from the moment I stepped on the court, I was already a member of the varsity team. With a newfound sense of strength, we continued the game. Every single point we won felt like we were putting our lives on the line, while every single point we lost felt like ten-ton chains were holding us down. Even so, it was just another volleyball game. One I had experienced on multiple occasions, perhaps not to the same magnitude, but it was a relatively familiar situation. Strangely, it felt different. I felt more relaxed, more confident, and I was having more fun. At the time, I was not sure what it came from. I was too focused on finishing out the game to pay it much attention. But reflecting on it now, I realize that without a doubt, it was because I truly felt like I belonged on the team. For the first time, I knew that my team was behind me, ready to help me up whenever I fell. We continued on with the game. Despite being down two sets to one at one point, we now found ourselves nearing victory in the fifth set. Finally, we were able to overcome the opponent to win the match three sets to two and secure the second SPC championship for Greenhill Boys Volleyball in three