Descriptive Essay: The Concert In The Tiger Den

I figured he’d have the concert during ROAR. Yes. We would be playing in the Tiger Den, exposed to the lunch room, crowded, eye level with everyone and lit up with that ugly fluorescent light. I wanted it to be in the auditorium. Reserved and all the attention on the band and on a separate day. ROAR was all about introducing every club, sport, and organization, whatever to the upcoming freshmen; which was why I was mad. While the band was playing everyone else would be obnoxious, loud, and gushing over typical things, like football players. I understand why Mr. Christy held it here, though; to get recognition. I found out early my freshman that the school only recognized any student as a human being with talent if you played a sport, are a cheerleader, or are in chorus. I can play three different instruments very fluently and yet I was considered “meh.” Jerks. However the real reason I was ticked was because of what was planned later. Three seniors, including Fisher Wilson, Jonica Brown and myself had a surprise for Mr. Christy at the end of the concert. We would play “songs My Mother Taught Me.” Of course Jonica would change the lyrics “my mother” to “Mr.

Christy. I came up with the idea a few months back and Fisher found his song. All we wanted was to let him know how much he meant to us.
ROAR started at six and I spent most of the time prepping for everything and helping out on the stage. The concert band played first and the Jazz ensemble would be up next. I tried my best to listen to the music without all the noisiness coming from the cafeteria. No such luck. Anyone sitting in the chairs in front of the small stage were on their phones and chatting away. They used it as a spot to chill instead of actually appreciating the band. I would’ve like to punch them all out.
After the jazz band completed their first round, the pianists started their solos. I noticed a very popular boy was up first and miraculsly that was when everyone decided to shut up and start recording. I felt myself becoming just a little more insane. I wasn’t far behind him in the schedule**. As Mr. Christy introduced my name I got up out of my chair and walked to the steps on the side of the stage. My black dress flared behind me as I made my way over to the piano. I played “Prelude Opus 28 Number 4;” one of Mr. Christy’s favorites. It was a slow piece. Predictable in the beginning but then angry, fast, toward the end and then leaving off at a calm yet unsettling ending. I understood why he appreciated this piece so much. You could write a story with those measures. I only hoped my performance would be as good later.
With the last piano player stepping off the stage, I felt anxiety was over me and waited for Fisher’s Que. I felt for my flute on the chair and clutched the sheet music to my chest when I heard him take the microphone and speak.
“We are about to continue the jazz ensemble but first we have something else planned for tonight.” Just as rehearsed.

“We have a special song that Mr. Christy doesn’t know about – sorry Christy.” Nothing like Fishers light hearted humor and clumsy grin to help shake off my nervousness. He continued. “In honor of everything Mr. Christy has taught us the last four years, we want to play him this song. It is called “Songs My Mother Taught Me.” We changed the lyrics to Mr. Christy for obvious reasons.” The remaining crowd chuckled. “I will now give the mic over to Skyler to give a few words.” I was on the stage, flute in hand and a microphone in front of my face staring into a very familiar audience. Everyone else had left except for the proud students and parents of band. I spoke, now feeling warm and

relaxed.
“I want to mention a man, a great man; Mr. Christy. He has taught us so much and had become more than just a teacher, but a dear friend.” My voice started to crack.
“He is dedicated to marching band, jazz band, the piano class and every student individually.” My eyelashes became moist.
“The three of us seniors would like to play this song for him to show how much appreciation and love we have for our Mr. Christy.” I didn’t even care if they saw the tear rolling down my face. This meant too much to me.
“I can never thank you enough for these past four years.”
Everyone had warm smiles on their faces and I swear I saw Mr. Christy’s eyes glisten. Fisher sat at the piano and began while Jonica sang.
Songs Mr. Christy taught me,
I remembered the first time I met Mr. Christy and how he said I would become a very special part of the music department.

In the days long vanished;
He taught me the basics of piano. I played Lullaby in the first spring concert.

Seldom from his eyelids
I joined the marching my sophomore year and he taught me how to play the xylophone.

Were the teardrops banished.
I joined Jazz Band in the spring. He taught me improv and jazz theory.

Now I teach my children,
My junior year I was on the marching field and playing flute. I hadn’t played it in three years until he became my teacher.

Each melodious measure.
I became a dedicated piano player. I played At Last for the spring concert.

Oft the tears are flowing,
I was a section leader my senior year in marching band and played at our first competition.

Oft they flow from my memory's treasure.
I am playing at my final concert today and this is my final song to him.

We finished and the small crowd gave there cheers as the three of us gave our final thank you to our music teacher. I could tell he really was crying now and I knew that he couldn’t have ask for a better gift from his soon to be parting seniors.