Think about this sentence, “The worst class you have ever experienced through your twelve plus years of schooling.” Everyone has their own opinion of their worst class experience. There are many tough classes students can take. From simple algebra all the way to calculus, history classes, literature classes, AP classes, to foreign language classes, there are many challenging courses out there. The hardest class students can ever take is one they have no interest in and are uncommitted to doing well in. Calculus, although hard, can be learned as long as we are committed to learning the material. My worst class experience was in eighth grade: band class, sixth period. I will never forget this class.
As I sat in the aisles of the basketball gym with my family, I felt a tingling sensation. Awe and inspiration flooded my body as I saw a hundred band students playing their instruments in near perfect synchronicity. Among the hundred band students, my twin brother, David, played the trumpet. I had heard him play his pieces before in our house, and I would always make jokes about him playing that trumpet. I thought his playing was decent. I would always comment, “eehh, you played okay.” After the recital, I congratulated him on his playing, telling him that I was impressed. Perhaps it was seeing everyone playing their instruments together to make a magical piece come to life that made his playing seem better. Seventh grade was ending soon, and so we had to choose the classes to enroll in for next year. Remembering the awe-inspiring moment during the recital, I wanted to show my brother that I was as good of a musician if not better. I felt an urge to take the band class, and I thought to myself, “If David can do it, so can I.”
Summer ended, and eighth grade began. One school day, the bell rang signifying that sixth period had begun. Waiting in line to enter the class, I looked around at my classmates. I felt like a giant. I realized that the band class I enrolled in was generally taken by sixth and seventh graders. As an eighth grader, I stood out from the crowd of students. I thought that this could be a good thing. As one of the oldest students in this middle school, I thought I could show these little kids what it’s like to be an eighth grader. We had to choose the instrument we would play for the rest of the year. Although I do not remember my band teacher saying it, I knew that choosing an instrument was a very important thing. I wanted to play an instrument that wasn’t extremely popular. I wanted an instrument different from my brother’s.
We had about two weeks to choose our instrument. Those two weeks flew by and I felt like it wasn’t that hard to choose an instrument. “What’s the big deal?” I thought. “All instruments are playable, otherwise they wouldn’t be instruments”, I thought as I convinced myself. I made the decision the last day. I spontaneously chose the most difficult instrument to play, the French Horn. After I put down my decision, the thought of playing the French Horn disappeared from my mind. My band teacher also gave us about two weeks to buy our instruments. Not wanting to wait until the last minute, I went shopping. I knew my dad would want to buy the cheapest instrument possible. Instruments are expensive no doubt, but I failed to realize that expensive instruments are usually of better quality. To my surprise, I found on Ebay a French Horn that was only $99. The standard French Horn is at least a couple thousand dollars. I was somewhat skeptical but looking at the picture online, I thought it would function decently. Without much contemplation, I bought it.
The French Horn arrived a week later and it passed inspection. As the school year went on, we began to learn how to buzz our lips to make noise with our instruments. I only have select memories of the pain I had in this band class. The truth was, throughout the beginning of the school year, I practiced a bit. And when I did practice I was never very committed to it. I remember watching The Simpsons, while attempting to practice my French horn. As you can guess, I spent more time watching, laughing, and making wise-ass comments than practicing. I participated very passively in band class. I was not confident in playing my instrument. Every time I played, I felt like all the sounds that were coming out of my French horn were the same. There was not much difference in pitch and tone between my notes. I felt like I was playing the same note over and over again with a small difference in pitch. I felt embarrassed every time I had to play a small part of a piece in class. I was humiliated and imagined everyone thinking, “Does this guy know how to play?”
I started to hate band class. I loathed the bell ring that signified the end of lunch. I had to join a class where I stood out and felt like I could not play properly while everyone else had already begun to master their instruments. In spite of not being able to play, after I got home I still barely practiced, except when there were a few days left before a performance quiz. The performance quiz was a test where we had to play a particular piece in front of the class when the teacher chose us. I only practiced a couple of days before we were going to have a performance quiz. In other words, I practiced only when I had to and it was short and infrequent.
Half way through the school year, a brilliant idea came to me. I noticed that a few of my classmates were getting their instruments fixed. My French horn had some broken parts that needed repair. These were small cracks and disconnections. I told my teacher that I was getting my instrument fixed, and not having my instrument, I just sat there watching and listening to other students playing. This gave me some relief. I knew that if I didn’t have my instrument because of a legitimate reason, there would be no way the teacher could call on me to play my instrument and to feel embarrassed. My method of avoiding playing and embarrassment worked for about a month. Obviously, this would not last. By this time everyone else was playing magnificently well, while I tried playing at home, and it sounded horrible. I was too far behind, and I felt as if it would be impossible to catch up now. What could I do? What were my options? Every time I picked up my French horn in attempt to practice, I would always sit there imagining the pain of being embarrassed in class in front of sixth and seventh graders. I did not know what to do.
One day, I do not remember the exact date- although in hindsight I wish I did- there were a few minutes of lunch left. I imagined the pain of being embarrassed in class again. It was a performance quiz day. I hated being embarrassed, and I loathed being stuck in my chair unable to escape from such impending doom. The bell rang. Lunch was over. This one day I knew I had reached my pain threshold. It was not a rational decision. I knew I could not go to class. I went into the bathroom stall, locked it, and waited for the final bell to ring that signified that sixth period had started. I waited in the bathroom stall a bit longer. I knew now that there was no turning back. I would not go to class. I ditched. I waited until everyone was in their classrooms, walked out the bathroom pretending to be pacing quickly to my class which I was late for, and snuck out the gates of my middle school.
As I crossed the street from my school across to the suburban neighborhood, I felt such a huge relief. I was not in class, and I had escaped from that class. It was a sunny day. I remember looking up at the beautiful blue skies as I walked away from the school with my dark green backpack on, blowing a breath of air slowly from my mouth. I wasn’t sure where I would go, but I knew I was happier wandering the suburban streets of my neighborhood than in band class. I walked and kept track of my time with a watch. I was only ditching my sixth period band class. I had a seventh period English class to attend which was a class I actually enjoyed. After that first day, I would repeat those same actions every single day to ditch my band class. I ditched band class for three months. I was surprised I was never caught.
It was first period and I was in science class. The teacher’s phone rang, and my science teacher informed me that I was to report to the office. I didn’t know about what- yet. I remember walking there slowly, wondering what they would call me to the office about, hoping that it wasn’t about my recent absences in sixth period. However, the previous day, my ditching did not go as planned and I ended up missing seventh period as well. The lady at the front desk asked me directly, “Why didn’t you go to class seventh period yesterday?” I replied dejectedly with a random excuse, “Oh, I didn’t finish my homework so I didn’t go to that class.” She sent me to see the Assistant principal. I stood there, knowing I had been caught, but only for yesterday’s one time ditching of seventh period. My mom was informed of my ditching. I sat there at the desk zoning out. I was imagining what my mom’s response was going to be and what the consequences for my actions would be. All these questions were now apparent. These questions did not enter my mind when I was ditching. Now I had to face them. I sat there and upon contemplation, I decided spontaneously that I was going to tell the assistant principle of my sixth period absences. I remember my seventh period English teacher sitting there talking to me about how she felt she could have done a better job giving me the attention I needed to deal with problems. I appreciate her doing that in hindsight because my English teacher did it in a very soft, caring attitude. I remember crying that day about everything that I had been through and all the stress I had. I felt a huge burden had been lifted off my shoulders.
I learned very important life skills from this experience. Many times, especially guys, we feel that we have to deal with problems ourselves, and that we have to deal with them in a manly way. I realized that it is okay to ask for help about anything that is causing you stress and discomfort. After admitting my episodes of ditching, I was dropped from band class formally and I did not have to hide anymore. I also learned that it is very important to make careful, well-thought decisions about anything that will impact your future life to a significant degree. Any significant decision that will affect your future circumstance, must be a committed and realistic decision. Honestly question your commitment. Realize the effort you will have to put in if you agree to take a certain class. When deciding the classes I wanted to take, I should have consciously contemplated the requirements I would need to put in, in order to succeed in the class. After thinking about the effort I would need to put in, I would have to ask myself honestly if I am committed enough to do what it takes to be successful in that class. Do I have enough time to practice at least one hour every day? Am I willing to put in that effort to practice one hour every day? And lastly, I learned not to leave these decisions to the last minute. Take care of important issues and decisions when there is time. If we do not take the time to carefully think about the decisions we make and how these decisions will affect our future lives, we will very likely end up hating something that is supposed to be fun and enjoyable.
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