There is something incredibly special about band kids.
The hours of practice that begin in elementary school. It’s the squeaking and squawking of a new alto or the flutter of early flute days, high-pitched honks from a trumpet, constant and consistent tapping . . . drumming on everything. And gallons of spit too, until one day a few years down the road, you realize all that practice time has turned into an incredible melody and skill.
The alarm that goes off at 5:35 a.m., and before most people are awake, band kids have sleepily found a quick breakfast bite, grabbed their backpacks, and headed to the school to ready their instruments, get warmed up, and hustle across the field before the morning dew has dried. Pre-dawn orders are shouted by coffee-toting band directors, and the section leaders dutifully carry the responsibility to lead the
group.
The Friday night lights many think are meant for football, but it’s the band that steps on the field first to play the National Anthem to bring the crowd to its feet, bring a tear to an eye, a hand over the heart. It’s the band that plays the school fight song and celebrates the unity of generations in the crowd, young and old who attended the school. It’s the halftime show that captivates the audience with their coordinated and creative use of a white-lined field.
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The early Saturdays when band kids don’t sleep in, no breaks available. After early mornings of practice all week, and late nights entertaining the crowds at the football game, they are up bright and early once again. Packing their bus, checking uniform bags, and heading off to compete for a title. Some days, all things work perfectly. The big deep breath before taking the field, counting steps to ensure uniformity is maintained, and recovering quickly if a stumble occurs.
The days are long. Sometimes it’s incredibly hot, causing sweat to drip down the inside of the uniform, creating a swampy ride home. Sometimes it’s incredibly cold, making it difficult to hold an instrument and feel the keys. Sometimes it’s so unbelievably windy, the music is carried away before it reaches the judges’ or spectators’ ears. Through all of it, they are zipped up, buttoned up, plumed up, shoes tied, standing with pride, ready to compete.
The cheering and awe as they support and learn from other bands on competition day. They admire the instruments and connect across school lines, making lifelong friends from down the road because the universal language of music builds their community, and brings them to a common place. No matter the background, no matter the school, music is the universal connection.
The measurement of talent isn’t speed, strength, or agility. It is time, tone, routine, and focus.
Superstition is the same whether it’s sports or music. Special socks to compete in. The same mom to plume a shako. Packing the same snack to ensure all things are even, focus is on, ready to win.
The time to compete arrives; for some bands, it may be a group of 20, for others it may be hundreds. Regardless of the number, it’s a group of teenagers not concerned about what car each other drives, or the brand of clothes they wear—everyone is the same. They all have a job to do. They are focused together, working in unison to create a unique and memorable showcase.
The end goal is the same: telling a story through performance and melody. Moving an audience. Showcasing unparalleled skill. Creating lifelong memories.
Yes, there is truly something special about band kids and their music that fills the world.
by Kristin May 
by Kelsey Scism 
