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Contemporary High School Teens & Young Adult

The lights dim in the auditorium and I wait as the next school’s Concert Band settles onstage and follows the First Chair’s directions. The young man calls upon each section to play, tuning them confidently, performing his duty as Concertmaster with precision and grace, before sitting back in his chair. This well-trained ensemble rises as the band’s director enters the stage and bows to the audience, receiving a polite round of applause.

The ABODA Festival is the highlight of my year, a time when all the high school bands present their polished pieces for adjudication. Where possible, I attend every session, marveling at what the children can achieve, what levels of accomplishment their directors manage to coax out of their students each year. But this year may be my last. I’m not as young as I once was and the siren’s call to retirement is becoming stronger.

If I were to be honest, there is always that level of dissatisfaction and envy in my heart as I watch these school bands, because I have never been able to develop a band to this level. My small elementary school band has always played beginner music, and the children are happy when we manage to play from the start all the way to the end of a piece, with all the instruments finishing together. Such an event is usually a cause for celebration. Of course, my students are only aged eight through to eleven, and we are lucky to play in time, with some degree of pitch accuracy. The intricacies of full tone, dynamic control, and balance of parts are definitely beyond their limited capabilities.

Wouldn’t it be grand to be the musical director for one of these massive high school bands? I think as the band on stage opens with their first piece. It’s a striking forte, with a heraldic fanfare of trumpets supported by a resounding timpani, that sets my heart pounding and soul soaring. These performers are children, I remind myself as my heart leaps in my throat.

The flutes and oboes soar and bring the first section to a cataclysmic climax, before floating gracefully into the B section, well supported by clarinets- such difficult instruments to wrangle a pleasant tone from in their beginner form, but the band on stage makes it appear effortless. I sit spellbound, my eyes closed, immersed in the beauty for five or so minutes as the music transports me.

As the final crescendo swells and the last notes cry out through the auditorium, there is that moment of breathless silence. It is that silence that any conductor is waiting for, hoping for, that spellbound moment when the last sound has finished, but the music will not release its grip on the hearts of those who listen. That single moment of space where hearts and heads are overwhelmed and need to reboot in order to remember how to send a signal to the hands, reminding them to clap.

I clap.

My eyes are old and I squint at the stage, looking among the sea of faces for any that I might know. I have taught a lot of children, and sometimes there is a face of an ex-student on stage. Unfortunately, I can’t make out any features with clarity anymore.

Once all the bands in this group have played, there is an interval, and I head toward the foyer where a group of parents have set up a tea, coffee and cake stall.

“Miss Jones!”

I myopically squint through the sea of people. A boy, no, a young man, hails me and wrangles his way through the crowded space. As he nears, I recognise the concert uniform of the band that had just performed on stage, and he is carrying a clarinet case.

“Miss Jones, I thought that was you,” he says, his voice a lovely rich tenor that I can’t seem to place. I search his face for clues. I have taught so many children over the years that they blend into one another, and I am unable to recall his name. It’s especially hard with boys. They change much between the ages of eleven and seventeen, much more than girls seem to. After a boy hits puberty, their whole faces seem to undergo a huge transformation, and their voices are totally unrecognisable.

“Hello…” I stumble about through my brain, trying to place him.

“Hey, Mum!” The boy waves towards a woman who weaves her way through the crowded foyer. She is familiar, and I recall her face—Mothers don’t seem to change much in six years—but I struggle to bring her name to mind. “Look who’s here!” The young man says with a radiant smile.

“Miss Jones, so good to see you!” The mother smiles at me.

“How are you both? How is school?” I ask politely, brain still madly churning, trying to place her face in my memory.

“Bradley is doing so well,” the mother says. Bradley, clue number one! Yes, this is Bradley… Bradley Macintosh. The name comes to me in a flash. Mum is Barbara. Funny how just one clue pops all the pieces together in your brain. “I’m so happy to see you here today. Do you have a band of your own performing today?” Barbara asks.

“No, I just come to see all my ex-students perform. It really is lovely to see you still playing.”

And it is lovely. Bradley was one of those students that was really difficult to forget. School work was hard for him. He struggled through all his subjects and Barbara was constantly up at the school, working with the teachers to help him catch up. I remember when he asked to join the recorder ensemble. It had been an initiative by a small group of students who wanted more challenging pieces to play, and so a regular lunchtime rehearsal began. My heart sank a little when Bradley showed up with one of the boys and asked to play. It was not because I didn’t want him to join, but knowing how he struggled, and how challenging the pieces we were working on, I didn’t want to put him off music. I didn’t want him to fail. So I wrote out simplified parts just for him and taught him to play the bass recorder. He could play one note in each bar, providing the very important foundation for our playing. He went on to take up clarinet, but he graduated to high school before he had enough skill to join my school band.

“I blame you, Miss Jones,” Barbara says with a twinkling smile. “You are the reason for all the running around I have to do. Do you know Bradley is in three ensembles? That’s after school rehearsals three nights a week, plus multiple performances throughout the year.”

“Oh dear,” I commiserate with a smile. “I am so sorry. Music will keep you busy and poor!”

“Yes, it certainly does!”

“But you wouldn’t have it any other way, would you, Mum?” Bradley asks her. She smiles back up at her son. I remember him as a tiny little thing. Now he towers head and shoulders above me.

“No, I love every minute.” She turns to look back at me. “And it’s all because of you, Miss Jones.”

“Me? Bradley was never in my school band. You really can’t blame me.”

“You set him on this path when you believed in him enough and let him join that little recorder ensemble.”

I feel ashamed because I didn’t believe in Bradley. I just allowed him to participate and made sure that he could participate in a way that he would be able to succeed. So, I modified his part; simplified it, because I really didn’t believe that he could play it as written in the score, but I worked hard to make sure that he could play something.

“It was a big thing for me to be part of that group,” Bradley says. “Do you remember Paul and Jason? I really wanted to be like them, and they were in the ensemble.”

Paul and Jason Parker, the twins. I hadn’t thought about them in years. They were prodigies in everything, gifted and talented beyond their years. It was due to them and their requests that the recorder ensemble began that year. They wanted to challenge themselves beyond classroom music and play some pieces with increased difficulty.

“And do you know what, Miss Jones? We’re in the same music class now and we all play in the concert band together. And you’ll never believe it, now that I’m a senior, I’m First Chair clarinet.”

“You were the Concertmaster? That’s fantastic, Bradley.” And it is. From a little boy who struggled with everything in school, to one who is leading the concert band. “I am so proud of you!”

“I’m also in WAYSO, but I’m only clarinet two.”

“You’re in the Youth Symphony Orchestra? That is very impressive. I will have to look out for you when they play next.”

“We’re playing at the Concert Hall in two weeks, which is why I’ve got to rush off now. I have an afternoon rehearsal. I’m so happy that I saw you here and hopefully I will see you again at the next concert. Thank you, Miss Jones.” He smiled expansively and waved as he left.

Before she followed her son, Barbara took my hand in both of hers and leaned close to whisper. “Thank you for being the first person to believe in him. You helped him to believe in himself.” There were tears in her eyes. “He had been going through such a bad time, his self esteem was so low, that he had begun to believe the world would be better without him in it. Then one day he came home and said he’d joined your music group. You have no idea how surprised Frank and I were. We had no idea he wanted to play an instrument. Now look at him.” We both turned to watch the confident young man stop to exchange laughing chats with friends as he wove his way through the crowd. He seemed to shine, exuding self assurance and importance.

I don’t know what to say, so I just smile and thank her before she leaves, following Bradley into the crowd. I take my cup of tea to a small plastic chair and sit, watching people as they come and go. So many children, so many parents. So much music making.

“Hey, Miss Jones!” I hear my name called and look up. Three boys are making their way toward me. “Bradley said you were here. Do you remember us?”

Do I remember? Two identical faces. I hadn’t taught that many identical twins. “Paul and Jason Parker, and is that Aldo Coloutti?” Aldo had always been the third wheel of their party, and it would seem nothing had changed. “How are you boys going?”

The boys take turns in telling me how they are working hard at school, what their future plans are, and as the bell rings to enter the auditorium for the second session of the day, they take their leave.

“It’s been great to see you, Miss Jones.”

I smile as they bound away, young men with big futures, and I am still smiling as I make my way back to the auditorium. I won’t ever be the one conducting these amazing students, I sigh to myself. But I have helped some of them to get where they are, and really what more could any teacher ask for. 

Maybe retirement will wait, just one more year.

May 14, 2023 22:51

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36 comments

Amanda Lieser
15:17 Jun 03, 2023

Hey Michelle, Oh bless this story! It was so wonderful to travel back in time briefly. I did orchestra as a child, but two of my best friends(identical twins) were part of color guard so they worked very closely with our band all four years of high school. It was so wonderful that you chose the teacher’s perspective because it allowed us to truly reflect with her. I loved the way she needed a moment to place each of her students-so many faces, so little time. This piece was incredibly joyful and I loved that ending-the need to impact the nex...

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Michelle Oliver
23:19 Jun 03, 2023

Thanks for reading it. I think we underestimate the impact that we can have on others, even just a small action can make a big difference to someone else.

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Michał Przywara
20:45 May 25, 2023

Having been in a high school band program (and a pretty dang successful one, largely due to an incredibly dedicated teacher) the setting here was immediately familiar. This is a great use of the prompt for a couple reasons. Often, a great teacher is just a moment in time, but they never learn what impact they had, so it's nice to bring it full circle like in this story. But what I particularly like is the teacher's doubt here, and how her goal had never been to particularly prop Bradley up, but rather just scrambling to find a way for him ...

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Michelle Oliver
22:31 May 25, 2023

Thank you for reading it. I’m happy you got the humanity of the teacher here. Scrambling to find a way for him to participate-Yep that’s it. No long term goal, yet a lasting long term impact. One action (or inaction) can have long lasting repercussions, only visible in hind sight.

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Kila Boston
18:34 May 24, 2023

You were definitely right on how much music boosts self-esteem, playing the Cello helped me feel more confident in my new school.

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Michelle Oliver
22:32 May 24, 2023

Cello is beautiful, it the instrument I wish I had learned. Thanks for reading

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Chris Miller
20:37 May 22, 2023

So smooth and wholesome. Just a lovely positive story that clearly resonates with so many readers and certainly with all of the former teachers on Reedsy, myself included.

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Michelle Oliver
22:36 May 22, 2023

Thanks Chris. Happy that you enjoyed my little story.

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Viga Boland
14:06 May 22, 2023

Ah Michelle…another beautifully told tale by one of Reedsy’s best writers. Funny how you and I picked the same prompt and told similar tales through the eyes of older women. We really do appreciate the same touching moments in our lives, don’t we? No wonder we are fans of each other’s writing. Way to go, girlfriend. ✌️👌

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Michelle Oliver
22:39 May 22, 2023

Thanks Viga, my husband said this one was right in my wheelhouse, as a teacher there are so many life memories to draw from. It’s in retrospect that we can see the impact a teacher has, in the moment, most of that is lost in the daily grind.

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Viga Boland
14:28 May 23, 2023

So true dat!

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Mehkyla Gibson
08:37 May 22, 2023

I really love this story! I used to be in a school band and choir, so I find the students to be a bit relatable. It reminded me of my old teachers, and I appreciate what they do to make us get to where we're at. Great work!

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Michelle Oliver
22:57 May 22, 2023

Thanks for reading. I’m happy that you could relate to the story.

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KANGEE GREEN
04:37 May 22, 2023

I love this story so much! It is very wholesome and reminded me of when I was in the youth orchestra. I was never very good at violin but I think it was good for me or something. I like how the mc changes from the start to the end, and she seems like such a lovely lady. If I had one critique, it would be to say that "ex-student" kinda sounded off to me and took me out of the tone a little bit every time I heard it. I would have said "old student". Also, I like the ending line because it really summed the whole thing up. I wrote a story thi...

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Michelle Oliver
07:04 May 22, 2023

Thanks for reading. Happy that you enjoyed the story this week.

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Emma D
21:37 Jun 11, 2023

Wow. I have no words. I'm a high school student, and my life would not be the same without music! I'm very involved in high school band as an oboist, and I'm also a pianist, so this hit very close to home in a way. I have a passion for music, so much so that I'm thinking about majoring in music. So, I found this story amazing! I truly believe that music brings us as humans together more than anything else. Fantastic job, Michelle! I love this!

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Michelle Oliver
22:28 Jun 11, 2023

Thank you Emma. I’m a music teacher and I really believe that music is the most powerful tool humans have for building resilience, relationships and community. I hope you continue to make music all your life, and all the best with your future studies.

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Myranda Marie
16:31 May 25, 2023

I am reminded of my own music teacher from elementary school, so many years ago. I imagine she would have struggled to remember us in later years yet feel that sense of pride as exemplary teachers should. Thank you for this stroll down memory lane.

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Michelle Oliver
22:24 May 25, 2023

Thank you for reading it! I’m happy that you enjoyed it.

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Martin Ross
14:45 May 25, 2023

I was a music education washout — didn’t have the adolescent discipline — but writing helped bring out my best, or at least my better. A more inspired, inspiring band director might have sparked that love of music and an aptitude toward it. Mine was a blustering drill instructor who spewed a torrent of obscenity at even the most timid flautists. Thanks for sharing a lovely illustration about how teachers can truly inspire and draw inspiration and energy from their students. I also enjoyed the intricacies and insights into music form and comp...

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Michelle Oliver
22:23 May 25, 2023

Thanks for reading. The problem with music education is that for some music teachers it’s an ego trip, and thus the power hungry dictator stands before you. For others it’s a passion to make all children engage their energy in a creative outlet that can inspire them. I am sorry that you experienced the fist kind of teacher. Thank you for your kind words.

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Russell Mickler
02:30 May 22, 2023

Hey Michelle - Cringe - oh man, band. I spent four years as a second-chair Alto Sax. Terrible memories :) I liked how you brought music into the prose and took us up and down, giving us tension with crescendos. In my opinion, tying concepts together with an analogy to other art forms. That’s real wisdom. Weaving that into the story and speaking from the narrator’s/teacher’s POV adds some depth to the character, where we’re concerned for their feelings. Sympathy. Relatability. Well done there. I think the piece captures a great moment in t...

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Michelle Oliver
07:08 May 22, 2023

Butterfly effects, love it! You never really know what kind of a difference you make in the world while you are in the moment. Thank you for reading and I’m sorry that your band memories were so terrible!

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Sarah Martyn
03:52 May 21, 2023

Loved the sweet plot. Makes me think fondly on teachers I've had, one of which retired this year after almost retiring years ago. I wrote a story a few contests back that has similar themes called "Concert Hall Murmuring" https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/k2uiil/

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Michelle Oliver
12:45 May 21, 2023

Thanks Sarah, yes a sweet little story this week. Thanks for reading. I will check out your story too.

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Zack Powell
16:52 May 20, 2023

This is so touching, Michelle. Reminds me of a few teachers I've had along the way, and knowing that you're a teacher yourself, it feels even more real. If you were to tell me this story is autobiographical, either loosely or wholly, I would readily believe you. Honestly, this piece is a great love letter to teachers and the impact they have on students. I saw the genre tags, and then I saw the narrator immediately explaining how she teachers children, and I said to myself, "High School? Teens & Young Adults? Wha?" And then we got to Bradle...

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Michelle Oliver
23:32 May 20, 2023

Thank you for reading this story, Zach. While it’s not autobiographical, you are correct in saying it’s loosely based in experience. In my teaching career I did have two ‘Bradley’s’ whose mothers both ‘blamed’ me for their child’s engagement in music beyond elementary school. Both of these children struggled in certain areas of school, but ‘found’ themselves through music and drama. Sometimes I think the educators of young children forget that the seed they sow is very deep, and the fruits of their labour are not always visible in the limi...

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Delbert Griffith
14:31 May 19, 2023

This wonderful tale resonates with me so much, Michelle! I retired a couple of years ago, and even with glasses, I still squint! LOL I always enjoyed seeing former students. They were the validation of my career; their success was worth my being a small part of. Teaching in an urban high school in San Antonio presented many challenging kids, but I loved every minute of it. The tough kids would come visit me during college break, and this warmed my heart. Your tale brings all of those memories back. Thank you for writing such a riveting, hea...

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Michelle Oliver
14:45 May 19, 2023

Thanks for reading. This tale was inspired by my own teaching experiences. I too love to see former students excelling and achieving success.

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Mary Bendickson
19:52 May 15, 2023

Too precious for words. Yes, magic created.

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Michelle Oliver
22:40 May 15, 2023

Thanks. A teacher has the power to plant a seed, and who knows where it will go. Sometimes it can feel a bit dispiriting because they are always starting at the beginning, never seeing the fruit of their labour. I thought it would be nice to show a teacher just what her influence created.

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Lily Finch
01:26 May 15, 2023

Michelle your story of a music teacher who gives a kid a chance that changes his life, but the teacher has no idea at the time, only to learn later that what she did changed the course of the boy's life. Makes you wonder who has the magic and who saw the magic in the other one first. I like your sense of magic in this one. Music is magical as we all know - especially to me - so your premise is great for the prompt. Well done. Thanks for the good read. LF6.

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Michelle Oliver
09:45 May 15, 2023

Happy that you enjoyed it and thank you for leaving a comment.

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09:28 Jul 19, 2023

I love reading, I love music, so to read a story all about music... And from you! Absolutely... Just great. But the story wasn't all about music, was it? It's almost sad how Miss Jones actually didn't believe in Bradley, but so nice that she had the same effect on him as she would've if she did believe in him. So sweet. Love it.

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Chris Campbell
07:11 May 26, 2023

Michelle, We all have the ability to affect other people by our actions. Your MC has that gift of caring and encouragement. Inclusion in a lot of things creative and the understanding that we're all just flowers waiting to blossom, makes for a great teacher. I laughed at the line, "Music will keep you busy and poor!" Being involved in music for many years, I can attest to that. Thank goodness I have I.T. to pay the bills. Nicely told.

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Will Oyowe
17:18 May 23, 2023

What an uplifting story. it is amazing how a simple act of kindness and attention to someone can change a young person's life """, I modified his part; simplified it, because I really didn’t believe that he could play it as written in the score, but I worked hard to make sure that he could play something."" if this is not an example of tailored teaching then I don't know what is! Nice one Michelle!

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