I come from a small town with a small band program that, at most, consisted of about 40 musicians (20 of which were probably flutes or clarinets, 10 of which were trumpets, the other 10 scattered saxophone players, a french horn player or two, and a couple bass parts). We were underfunded and under appreciated, yet we still managed to be as multipurpose as we possibly could be; a pep band at every home football game, a marching band whose rows were tiny but in sync, a concert band, background noise for any school event in which silence would be awkward and speaker quality would be too low (aka, the Veteran's Day ceremonies and graduation).

Within the Warrior band program I met some of the most honest, passionate, and hilarious people that Easton High School had to offer. We were all together for a common purpose...to create something beautiful. Something breathtaking. To finally perform a song together in front of an audience and to have them applaud what you had just created, as a group, was one of the most satisfying moments that I felt throughout the eight years I was in the Easton music program.

Not only was I blessed with high quality band-mates, but our director also happened to be one of the most amazing and passionate people I have ever come across to this day. She was the reason I ended up at Washington College, pushing me to follow where my heart is telling me I belong and to worry less about the money aspects. I'm still certain to this day that if I had gone to my second choice school she would have held an intervention for me. When my mom was diagnosed with cancer the first time, she was a shoulder to cry on and a pair of ears to vent to. When the second diagnosis came around, I knew exactly who to go to. She knew me better than I knew myself and pushed me to be the best performer and individual that I could possibly be, and for that I will be forever grateful.

We grew together, we cried together, we played together as one. Together we were a group of goofballs who enjoyed terrible jokes, venting about life, and making music. For years, I had a family that I knew I could go to whenever times got rough. Whenever I was stressed from that AP Calculus exam I thought I had failed (turns out I'm actually not as bad at math as I thought I was), I knew I could go to the band room and lock myself in a practice room, playing until I felt at peace with the world around me once more. Music had become a source of stress relief and a break from the outside. It got to the point where I enjoyed the scent of a fresh reed more than most perfumes.

If I never joined band, if I had quit each time I became frustrated, I'm not quite sure who I would be. I gained creativity, bonded with amazing people, went on trips such as to New York City or Great Wolf Lodge, spent every home football game under the lights within the crowd playing arrangements of popular songs and jingles, and created memories that I'll always be fond of. Band shaped me into the person I am today, and if I were to meet the me who never fell in love with the clarinet I don't think I would have liked myself very much.