When Mom took me to Cy-Creek High School to enroll a few weeks before school started. We met with a guidance counselor to set up my class schedule and four-year plan. She was looking over my transcripts from middle school and noticed I was in band. With barely a word to me, she picked up her phone. Before I could fully realize who she was talking to, she was hanging up and telling me I could head down to the band hall once we were done. The band director thought it would be fine for me to start late. Wasn't I lucky?
What!?! I wanted to yell at her, "I don't want to be in band!" I could feel my throat constricting. I didn't want to be a band nerd in high school, no way! And that's what I told my mom while we walked towards the band hall. She convinced me that we could just talk to the directors and if I didn't want to, I could tell them so or quit later. Stupid voice of reason.
Of course, the directors were nice and the upper class men who were there to help out over the summer were friendly and seemed cool.
Ugh. I joined band. And I loved it. It shaped my high school experience more than most other paths I went down in those four years. I wouldn't have been a band nerd if it hadn't been for the assumption and quick phone skills of that guidance counselor.
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