• High school flashback, huh? Now this is something I’m good at, hee. I love telling stories, and I have to say, I have a ton of stories. The problem is picking the best one.

    But I have a good idea what story I want to tell. Or rather, not a particular story, but just a flash of my most favorite memories. Most of which happened during band camp (huuur, This One Time at Band Camp… … Yeah, I know, I’m awful. Don’t hate me).

    Like during my second year in Marching Band, when we went up to the idyllic IdleWild Christian Camp and set up the Last Supper for a photo because my good friend looks a lot like the depictions of Jesus Christ. Considering that the two other schools there were devout Christians, we were getting some pretty crazy looks- up until one of those Christian students walked up and told the photographer to till Mary Magdalene’s (me) head a bit more (because of course we had to do it the DaVinci Code way). We liked him.

    Or maybe that one summer when we played capture the flag at the High School at night, and one of my best friends and I squared off. He was backing me up, forcing me to take steps back by making sprints at my flag, but never trying to take it off- until I fell over and into a trash can and he was left with an open shot to the flag around my waist. He just plucked it and walked away, still laughing.

    Or that other time when, during my second year at Band Camp and the first year of the new teacher Michael Stanley- that year was the Dark Ages for Marching Band considering all of the students except me and the guy who looked like Jesus were so heavily opposed to Stanley- I was made a cabin and group leader. It was amazing- such smart kids listening to me when I told them to do stuff. I felt like a leader. And of course, as a cabin leader, leading belching contests in our cabin- all of which I won of course. Not to mention the trumpet coach walking by just as I belched particularly loud, and his answering “Good Lord, Monica, was that you?!?!?!”

    Good Times.

    And during that same year- this being my junior year, since I wasn’t really in Marching Band my freshman year- I two young sophomores approached me, having just joined, and asked me to be their Band Mommy. Originally, the Band Mother was the flute section leader- but she had graduated the year before, that last of the Immel Memories, and I took her place I suppose. I didn’t even notice it, but suddenly I had tons of children in Marching Band.

    That year, my junior year, had to have been the best; I was in Percussion that year and the year after, and I played the cymbals. Sucky last place instrument, you say? Nay, not for me. When I played them, I used technique taught by the infamous Mr. Barney Lane- and I still remember him saying I was the best they’d ever had. Feeling the amazing power after flipping them around on my wrists, watching as all of the other cymbal players’ eyes widened in shock and awe. I felt like a god (not to be disrespectful).

    But my senior year was when I realized when I had an influence in the band, when I realized how much I loved them (don’t worry, not much longer). I was once again Cabin Leader, and a Group Leader, teaching those younguns how to march and play at the same time. I even won a Drill Down, a sort of game where they test how well you can march. One of my proudest moments. Aside from dating a freshman- boy did that stir up some “tradition hounds”- at the end of band camp, when I went up to give my senior speech, I looked out at all of the students gathered there, and burst into tears.

    They were my family. Three years of tears, of asthma attacks, of mastering sicknesses, of becoming the best and then a teacher- and I was leaving.

    Almost immediately, a mob of students rushed the stage and glomped me, more than half of them sobbing. And then when I walked across the stage- and tripped of course, almost landing on the Principal (making people laugh to the end), and Kyle burst into tears and ran across the stage and clung to me, sobbing about how he’d miss his mommy.

    Here comes a second mob.

    High school was… Honestly, the best years of my life, I think. I had my ups and downs- plenty of downs- but for once, the ups outweigh them. I’ll never forget my family away from family.