Proud Moment

Being not that fond of the trumpet, once the opportunity to play tuba arose in my 5th grade band class, I was ecstatic. Finally there was a chance for me to break away from the trumpets and be unique member of the band. However, in order to gain the prestigious honor, I needed to pass a rigorous try-out to show off my instrumental skills.

Our music teacher, Mrs. McLaughlin, said that in order to play the instrument we need to play a piece composed by none other than herself. As I glanced at the sheet of music, I was shocked at the twists and turns displayed by the notes. The high notes seemed like a trek up a mountain, and the low notes were the perilous descent. I knew that my musical skills weren't of this caliber and quickly felt disheartened at never being able to earn the tuba chair.

As the week went on, and my music teacher called students up to audition, my turn finally came up. Still willing to try-out, I made my way into my music teacher's office and got out my instrument. As I saw that dreaded sheet of music once again, I got nervous. I just wanted to get it over with. Paying no attention to rhythm nor the beat, I completed each measure of the composition as quickly as possible. Every note it seemed had an imperfection. It was over. Leaving the office of my music teacher, I fully understood that I would never be able to play the instrument I so desired.

The rest of the week went by smoothly enough. I tried to keep my mind off the blunder I made during the audition. By the next band class, my music teacher had made her decision. At this point, I was fully convinced that I was stuck as trumpet. So, imagine my face as my name was called up for achieving the tuba chair. In that instant, I didn't want to question how I managed to earn my unique spot in the band, but I came to find out that I was the only kid big enough to hold the instrument. I guess those early growth spurts were helpful after all.