Narrative Essay On Marching Band

I remember in 5th grade when Mrs. Jones told us about band. I got excited, I couldn't wait to start. I'd always wanted to be in percussion but then I got introduced to the clarinet. My sister, Amber, had a clarinet that I borrowed. I didn't know how to put it together or how to even hold it. I kept messing up the hands. I also remember playing my first note. It seemed quite hard, but looking back now, I have songs memorized, and I know most of my scales. The eighth notes actually scared, and so did the quarter rests. I told myself I'll never be able to play this. Now I am able to tongue, and play fast, and count my rests, and do everything I believed I would never be able to do. Looking at the scales, I started to freak, but now I can play 2 octaves and even do most of

Now, I know how to roll step, stay in rhythm, and even play while marching. It's a miracle. Band camp is always extremely hot, but I continue to push through it because I know it is only helping us. My first marching competition was at Algona, my 9th grade year. It was honestly a rush, and there was so much pressure put on us, by our section leaders, and by Mr. Dobbs, our band director. All I wanted to do was impress all of them. Show them what I was capable of. Our band is a whole, a family. The father we get into marching season, the colder it gets, but no matter what, we come off the field sweating. We put so much into marching. Our last competition came, and I loved it. After that, all that's left is state. I don't want the seniors to go, I wish they could stay, we all work so well together. They have marched with us, through both tears and sweat. When that last home football game comes, and you know this is the end for them, you suddenly get a whole in your chest. You what the last song to last forever. With them leaving, your band is no longer a whole, but you shall add more people, and make a new