I am a first generation college student. When filling out the applications and contacting schools for information, I was very much on my own. I had no mentors for this and my mom did the best she could to help. Late at night, we took turns typing away on the old school typewriter and hoping like hell we wouldn’t mess up and have to break out the whiteout to fix a correction on an application. Yes, I went to college before the internet or email was a “thing” and essays and answers were typed out or written by hand. We did get email about two years later though…

I applied for quite a few schools and to be honest, I got rejected by more than accepted. Had two invites to play baseball at some small junior colleges, an invite from another to join the speech team and two schools that would like me to join their music department. You see, when you go to high school in a small town in Texas, you get/have to focus on more than one activity or the school wouldn’t have any teams. Example: I once had to miss a baseball game because I was also in a play. My grades were not going to get me into too many colleges, but my extracurricular activities might and that’s why I did everything I could. Competitive in all, but not the world’s greatest in any I guess? Medium sized fish in a small pond?

Flash forward, I decided to attend school at Angelo State University, a medium sized 4-year university in west Texas and one where I had a little bit of scholarship money/government money to help in that decision. Because there was a catch to some of that money, I had to declare music as my major and I then joined the marching band.

Majoring in music is no joke. There is a tremendous amount of work and dedication that goes along with that focus of study. People outside of this world have no idea how many additional, non-accredited, hours accompany this life of music and the sacrifices that need to be made to be successful. We tend to be inspired by athletes who overcome challenges and strife to become elite or legends, but we should be treating musicians, instructors and artists with some of that same respect. Make all the “band geek” jokes you want (and I know them all) these people are resilient.

Everything for me has been an uphill work in progress. I might be an expert at 2-3 (and mostly useless) things in life and maybe decent at a handful of other things. Yet, I am nowhere as naturally gifted and talented as my children. Last night I went into my daughter’s room to say goodnight and her brother was learning to play a song on the keyboard from watching YouTube and my daughter is playing the guitar by ear. No lessons. Just a curiosity to learn a little something on the weekend. Meanwhile, I still tie my shoes the kindergarten bunny ears way because I don’t know how to tie them any other way (I don’t tie them like you do, I promise). Please forget I shared that just now…

As a music major, you have to take one on one classes with the professor that works in your area of focus. For me, as a trombone player, I had to meet with the university brass instructor. Ed. We will call him Ed. 

Ed was a chain smoker that was not to be bothered by the “no smoking” policy put in place by the university. He had a small, standard issue, office that reeked of cigarette smoke, bad coffee and hate for music students. He had no time for small talk and was disgusted by the idea of making a connection with anyone that wasn’t on his level. Which, in Ed’s eyes, was nobody.

You would walk in, sit down (so he could hover over you-peacocking) start playing the arranged piece of his choice at the spot he instructed and that’s when he would begin shouting at you because you were doing it wrong. At least that was my experience. I would be lucky to get six, maybe 7, notes in before he would unload all his pent up frustrations, about life or whatever, on my poor-just trying to find my place in life-18-year-old mind and body.

He would carry his frustration from the previous student (victim) into your lesson and you started with already paying for whatever the last kid did. I am not exaggerating when I tell you that I got thrown out of EVERY class that I ever attended. I might still hold the record, which I believe (as well as others believe) to be 96 seconds. I’m not joking! I once got thrown out 96 seconds into a session! Most of that time I was not playing, rather he was just yelling at me. I might have gotten maybe a dozen notes in that day. Ed would throw so many people out of his “lessons” that if you were scheduled for a 4pm session, yours could be moved up to around 2:30pm. Often, students would just sit with their instrument in the hallway and watch and wait as people got tossed out of his office. At least when you got tossed and started your walk of shame, everyone standing there would feel your pain and all you could do is laugh, because crying wasn’t really an option.

I might have made it into his second cigarette a few times, but it was rare. Like maybe once. If you were to add up all the minutes I spent attempting to play my horn while inhaling secondhand smoke, it might be an hour in total. I never finished a song. Tenure in the university world is a crazy thing and for some it’s a license to be a jerk.

I eventually had no choice but to drop that “class”. After getting yelled at one last time and him telling me that I will never make it in life (he wasn’t just talking about music), I said to him “Sir, if I want to spend my day getting yelled at, I’ll just drive back to Johnson City (my hometown) and let my dad do it. At least he’s a man.” Ed promptly threw me out for the last time. He was still yelling at me as I walked to the admissions office to drop him from my schedule.

Many of my friends from college tell me that I should watch the movie Whiplash because I could relate to it. One of these days I’ll get around to watching it. Maybe I have not watched because I’m still experiencing PTSD? I hear it won some awards and Miles Teller is an amazing actor and I am confident it’s much better and more realistic than the Nick Cannon movie “Drum Line”.

I stayed in the marching band as well as the concert band for all four years, but I changed my major after the first semester. I also tried to become a minor league baseball player, but that’s a story for another time…

I only had one more “incident” with Ed in the four years I was there and this ended up being my parting words. I was walking down a flight of stairs as Ed was walking up from smoking a Merit 100s cancer stick outside—likely because enough students had complained of the secondhand smoke issue that came with being in his office for more than 96 seconds. As we passed each other on the stairs I said “afternoon sir.” It had been like 2+ years since our last encounter and I was just being cordial. Ed said nothing and kept on walking. As I took a few more steps, giving him plenty of time to respond, I looked up and said “you know what Ed (he didn’t let students call him Ed) if you were on fire, I wouldn’t piss you out!”

He stopped when I said that, took a breath (winded from the walk because of his lack of lung capacity?) and then kept walking. I told a few friends about that meeting and they informed me that Ed’s house had a fire not too long before my comment, hence making my insult better than I would have imagined. Not too often in life do you get to zing someone with just the right words, but God gave me that deserved moment that day. Amen.

Truth be told, I lacked the focus and drive of becoming a band instructor or musician. I enjoyed playing music, performing in front of crowds and the social aspects of being in the band, but I was not “all in” when it came to my craft and a desire to create a career of it. Ed helped to speed up my inevitable change in education and career path, but also reminded me why I got into band in the first place. When you pick up your instrument you PLAY it. I enjoyed PLAYing music and the community of band. I love a good drum cadence and getting to watch my daughter perform in color guard means a lot because it brings back so many positive memories and the appreciation of those band-forged friendships I still have till this day. I love that she gets to experience the same.

You don’t have to make your passion your career. I love Mark Twain, but his quote “find a job you enjoy doing, and you will never have to work a day in your life” doesn’t mean you have to turn your passions into a paycheck. Don’t get it twisted, it just means you’ll like your job better if you enjoy the work. I enjoy cooking, but as soon as I open a restaurant, it would become a job and eventually a burden and no longer a creative release. Be careful how you interpret this type of advice, as I have seen people use this quote to affirm their career choices only to become bitter later in life.

There are events and people in your life and career that challenge your decisions and paths. Iron sharpens iron, but sometimes people come into your personal storyline and force you to search internally and check your gut. Although Ed was just a mean person who believed (and likely still believes) in tearing people down in order to humble and wound or build them in his image, he at least taught me a few lessons on what not to do as a leader, teacher and mentor. For that, I am thankful.

#Tryharder to learn from Ed and not become an Ed.