Doing It Wrong
in which our hero takes things in a new direction
Dear Readers,
When I was in elementary school, I played the saxophone. I won’t claim to have played it well, but I enjoyed it. I remember having a blast with “Rock Around the Clock.”
The only trouble I had with playing sax was that I couldn’t read the sheet music fast enough to keep up with my classmates. So I cheated. I transcribed the notes above their positions on the staves, and my music teacher didn’t seem to mind.
But that was the elementary school music teacher. The middle school music teacher was a whole other story.
I remember hoping to continue with music into middle school. During fifth grade, I went to some sort of all-town band get-together where I met kids from other elementary schools for the first time—at least one of whom I’m still in touch with today. They seemed cool. And though I was intimidated by their talent, I’d already been playing alongside talented kids at my own school. I figured I’d get used to it eventually. I figured that everything would work out, given enough time.
The middle school music teacher was not as patient as I was.
I don’t recall exactly when it was that I was told I couldn’t be a part of band anymore if I didn’t stop writing my notes above the staves, but it was either over the summer or in the opening weeks of the sixth grade (the first year of middle school in my town at the time). This is one of my earliest memories of being told that I was, in no uncertain terms, doing it wrong, and it killed my desire to play music at all until college.
Soon enough, I was out of band and my saxophone case—with the instrument inside—was collecting dust in the attic. I don’t remember what I did instead. Maybe I took an extra art class. Maybe that’s why I took Home Ec. Or maybe I did something else entirely. I tried to dig out my old report cards this morning to see if I could find an answer, but they’re in a box that’s buried under enough crap that I decided it wasn’t worth it.
There might be a lesson to be learned in this morning’s acceptance of defeat, but I’m going to leave that one alone for now.
Where I’ll leave you instead is with this bit of advice for the parents and teachers out there, which comes from one of my favorite films of all time. In Wonder Boys, Crabtree pokes fun at his old friend Tripp by saying “It’s comforting to know that America’s children have you for a teacher.”
Tripp replies, “Nobody teaches a writer anything. You tell ’em what you know. You tell ’em to find their voice and stay with it. You tell the ones that have it to keep at it. You tell the ones that don’t have it to keep at it too, because that’s the only way they’re gonna get to where they’re going.”
You know what you don’t do? You don’t tell them that they’re doing it wrong.
Yours,
Chris
I find two things reading this.. 1) I 1000% agree with the conclusion. 2) This is another compelling story to me showing how differently 2 people experienced someone. (If I recall, Middle school band was Mr Williams.. who I remember incredibly fondly, with his mint Red old school VW Bug Convertible, and always smiling, and who helped me love band/music (trombone) in a way that shaped my High School and college experience! I say that as someone who never made al-state or anything (unlike a number of peers in the band) and as someone who would definitely write things on his paper and employee tricks to keep up at that time.. BUT.. the "KEY" moment of being told you didn't belong was something I NEVER saw/experienced.. and I HATE that it happened to someone else. but either way, interesting, and yeah.. with 2 kids, we are firmly in the "you can do anything" and my most frequently used thing with both of them with sports recently "No, I do not care if you win or lose, all I care about is that you tried your hardest. Win or lose, if I didn't see effort, then we are having a conversation." (which then dovetails into the "do you WANT to do this? Well, if so, you aren't showing it with effort.. and if not, great, let's find an outlet you do want to do!")