Marching Together
My “safe zone” in high school was always the band and choir rooms. They sat side-by-side at Franklin Township High School in New Jersey.
Franklin was the third high school I attended. In my freshman year, I attended high school in Venezuela, Grand Rapids, and Somerset, New Jersey. It was hard, at first, to get used to the differences in culture in New Jersey. After all, I was raised in Michigan for the first twelve years, then Venezuela for two, then Michigan again for six months, then New Jersey.
I joined the choir almost immediately. Our choir director was Mr. Parisi. He was wonderful. He also taught music theory, which I loved. I love to sing, whether or not my voice is any good, and he always humored me and let me sing in the talent shows. I’m a confirmed, solid alto, and there weren’t many girls in that range at Franklin.
Next door was the band room. I had learned to play violin, recorder, and flute before we left for Venezuela, but the school there had no band or music lessons, so things went a bit stale. But I never lost my love of music.
I was so nervous when I auditioned. There were a lot of flute players, and the band was huge. Think about how football is in Texas high schools. In New Jersey, it was band.
Fortunately, I didn’t fail the audition. I was in. The next step was to get fitted for my first…
