Choices, Choices

The new semester brought a new schedule at school and a whole new set of experiences.

I was trading out my awful prerequisite typing class for an opportunity to be an aide in Mr. H’s classroom, my English teacher from two years prior who had turned into my counselor/advisor/closest thing to a friend a former student could have. I was excited to get the opportunity to be in his room. I was pretty sure my major in college was going to be education, having worked as an elementary tutor and classroom helper all fall through the National Honors Society. Plus, I wasn’t going to lie, I loved the idea of seeing Mr. H every day. I still nursed a healthy crush on him, even if it meant nothing. I loved that I was being singled out for this position, and that gave me affirmation that I always needed.

The other class I was trading out was newspaper. I’d spent the fall working on the school newspaper, in a half hearted attempt to follow in my friend Dawn’s footsteps. She was now the editor, and writing all of the time, earning all sorts of accolades for it. But I hated writing for the newspaper. I hated not being able to editorialize and embellish with my own words and thoughts, having to just stick to the facts. I wasn’t earning the respect I felt I deserved, so half way through the year, I was trading it out for independent music study.

My music had become increasingly more important to me throughout the year. I was working with my friend Jill on improvisational pieces, I was training with my music teacher George on modern, fusion pieces, and I was working hard enough in my band class to be consistently sitting in the first or second chair of the flute section. I had set my sights on an incredibly difficult jazz piece, a solo piece, for the late winter music competition. I needed the extra time in the day to practice, because with work and my National Honors Society duties, plus homework, I wasn’t finding the time after school.

I was turning my passion into myself for the first time instead of looking for it outside of myself. It was exciting, scary and hard, hard work.


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