There are few things in life that give a feeling of greater accomplishment as part of a group as being in a band when everything is clicking.
There are also few things that provide as good an example of how important teachers are to students enjoying what they're doing and learning as my time playing the saxophone.
I've watched my daughter and nieces play in fantastic music programs. Anabelle started both "middle school" and high school bands with great conductors... which were replaced the next year with women who created an even greater bond with playing her flute in those bands. It culminated in her winning the J.P. Sousa Award at the end of senior year. (The connection lasted until encountering the overbearing Marching Band style mindset of her college "We're not only the Pep Band, but really we are and we will shame anyone who is not" group.)
Aurora sings and Veronica also does, as well as playing an enormous to the point of being eclipsing tuba. The music program in their school forms strong bonds, and puts on amazing shows. Also, contrary to most schools that say, "You don't play the proper instrument for a jazz band, you must learn something else to join," their musical director functions along the lines of, "Oh, you play the cello...lets work that into our Motown numbers."
My experiences had a lot more hills and valleys.
Our school didn't teach string instruments or piano. The confusing (to me) idea of mouth shapes controlling notes meant brass instruments were out. Back in the Stone Age, the band limited the number of drummers to a tiny total. Therefore, I went with a woodwind. Again, back in the stone age, the largest number of instruments in the band were flutes and clarinets, and they were all played by girls. More importantly, saxophones featured prominently in all the old time rock and roll that permeated our home.
I had been looking forward to working with Mr. Garrison in grade school, but he moved up to middle school the year I started playing. The teacher who replaced him, Miss Sealy, was perfect for starters. She had that internal strength and giant amounts of calm patience to allow her to sit next to children with no musical talent, and minimal practice, for hours on end, day after day without cramming our heads into the bells of our instruments.
I was only taught by Mr. Garrison for one year. Blood pressure issues forced him into leaving education and focusing on running his paint store. Yes, his passion for teaching and music exploded his emotions on occasion.
One day he got frustrated, tossed his big conductor stand across the room into his office, and stormed out. The band just sat there until practice time ended, unsure of what we were supposed to do, but knowing leaving wasn't an option.
But mostly, those emotions were focused on how much he cared about the music, how much he could teach us and inspire us to care about it as well, and how he could help us put our hearts and souls into it.
Yes, he did have a pile of extra batons next to him to throw at the drummers...
including Dave, one of the most talented and hard working musicians in the band.
But I feel that's more of a drummer thing than a reflection of his teaching style.
It was an honor to make it into the "8th Grade" band in 7th Grade. He put me on the baritone saxophone, for the same reason I believe he assigned Tony to the tuba...
I was big enough to hoist it while playing.
The rest of the band thought it was hilarious to make Tony and I sit in the back of the bus on trips with our giant instruments walling us off. The bari sax case was enormous, making Mom's station wagon look like a hearse toting a coffin when I would bring it home to practice over weekends.
It was, by far, the most fun I had in all of my instrumental years. Besides reveling in his abilities as a teacher to grow my appreciation for the music, I really grooved on playing the low parts and bass lines. This is why I taught myself bass guitar in my 20's when I missed the experience, but also knew I "lost my lip" for the sax. I haven't played that in forever either, because deciding I'm writing two entries a week for almost a dozen years vastly curtails my time for other hobbies when coupled with other minor interferences...
such as yard maintenance, or going to work, for example.
The influence of teachers is hugely demonstrated by comparing Mr. Garrison to his replacement. The passion was simply gone, and back at second alto sax, my enjoyment also evaporated. This is not counting the strongly suspected situation that his replacement did not want boys in any first chair position. Every time I challenged, I'd play my peice better, I'd play the 7th grader first chair's selection reasonably well, and then totally tank the teacher selected peice, which she knew full well I had problems with. I finally got over hating the Indiana Jones theme only a couple of years ago due to this.
I went back to the baritone sax in freshman year of high school and had more fun. However, combined with other issues, my interest had dropped. I forgot to go to lunch time lessons more often than attending them for almost a whole quarter - earning me my only mid-mark notice in my school career, and didn't go further.
The truest comparison can be seen in the concerts.
In 8th grade we sounded like an average 8th grade band.
In 7th grade, we sounded better than many high school bands in the area.
It was all in the approach.
In 8th grade, during normal, after school practice, we'd hear,
"Well, you all aren't doing too well with peice we've been playing at half speed,
and the concert is in two weeks...
so we're dropping it from the set list."
With Mr. Garrison, on the other hand,
At the final one of a week or so's worth of extra, before school, practice sessions we'd hear:
"Well, the concert's tonight, and you still suck!
So we're going to play this one until we get it right."
But the key is, he'd channel all that emotion and passion into passing on advice and cues during the practice, helping us through making it better and better and getting more into the music each time.
And when we got to the concert, we rocked the joint.
The other reason I enjoyed being taught by him so much was that his sense of humor was similar to mine.
To end- I believe this is the perfect Mr. Garrison story.
A select, smaller group of us was chosen (and honored) to be a "Stage Band" at the winter chorus concert.
We had to sit on the stage,(hence the name) behind the curtain, while the choir performed various holiday songs. We were there for a large chunk of the concert before it was our turn to join them. If the number right before we came on wasn't "Silent Night" it was an equally quiet and solemn peice.
While we were getting ready, Mr. Garrison walked on stage, and whisper-called out to another star player of the band in the trumpet section,
"Hey Pete, I defended you today."
Pete looked befuddled and whispered, "How?"
Mr. Garrison:
"I heard someone saying you liked to eat s**t on rye toast...
*pause with an evil knowing grin*
But I told them you don't like rye toast."
Then the curtain opened with most of us about to fall out of our chairs.
We stabilized quickly, and blew the doors off the place.
For inspiring the passion and joy of playing music in a group, and creating times of feeling a true belonging in something greater than myself that year:
Mr. Garrison, this teacher tribute is for you.
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