Recently, another writer for Odyssey had the idea of a "College Essay Challenge," where we post our college application essays in order to "express who we are." I really liked this idea, so I decided to take the opportunity to share mine as well. It's a bit 'band-nerd' oriented. While my experience in high school marching band was definitely one of the best, most educational and fun experiences of my life, it also had an immense impact on who I am today.
A Memoir
It was a beautiful evening at MetLife Stadium, as the Manalapan Marching Braves prepared to take the field in competition. We were finally there, at the 2015 Yamaha Cup, and I was leading the band onto the field. This would be our day but, most of all, it would be my day – because I was not just marching. I was drum major. We were marching through the halls of an NFL stadium. I couldn't help but crack a smile when the sound of our drumline playing our cadence began echoing within the tunnel. It was surreal. We were told to take our places. My heart began to race as I ran backfield to the raised podium, positioned at the 50-yard line. I climbed up, removed my shako, and took in the tremendous scene. The sun was setting above and the stadium lights were on. It occurred to me, right then and there, that everything I had fought so hard for over the years had brought me to this moment.
It was a long road to that podium. When I first joined the band, I was not welcomed with open arms by my peers. Though, that wasn’t entirely their fault. Right before each season, the entire band meets for two weeks of band camp. It is not only an intensive training camp; it is also a bonding experience. Unfortunately, I missed band camp freshman year because I had signed up for fall field hockey. I quickly realized, though, that I could not be in two places at once. I considered quitting field hockey but, due to a player shortage, my departure from the team would have resulted in forfeiture for the season. It was out of my control. Consequently, I missed most band events that year and, in the world of band, I became known as “the girl who shows up sometimes.” I was left out, and, at times, felt unwanted – in the place I most wanted to be.
Freshman year was tough. I struggled with my grades, did not have an active social life, and I made the worst of every situation. Instead of putting effort into making things better, I just let it all happen. I didn’t take any responsibility. Through it all, though, I always looked forward to band. Band class, band practice, band concerts – anything band. It was the only thing I enjoyed, which added to the hurt I felt when I was disregarded by the other band members. So, I decided I needed to make changes. I would not let below par grades and a less-than-stellar band reputation define my high school experience.
After freshman year, I dropped field hockey so I could focus on marching band. I was respectful, I rarely complained, and I knew my music. I memorized everything I possibly could. With those successes, it became easier to focus on my schoolwork. I met with teachers before and after school, for reinforcement. My grades improved. Freshman year to sophomore year, even to junior year, were all big jumps. I was wholeheartedly invested, and it was known -- including by my band director. By senior year, I had climbed the ranks all the way to drum major. Not only was I now one of them, I was leading them. I was making a difference.
That passionate and dedicated person on the podium at the Yamaha Cup competition is who I now am, and it is who I always want to be. That night at MetLife, it was proven to me that hard work and perseverance pays off, and that I can achieve anything. That lesson will carry over to my college education, and beyond. Notably, after the competition, with this deadline always on my mind, I said to my friends, quite sincerely, “Guys, we could so write about this for our college essays!” Their reply? “But Bri, we’re not all band nerds like you.” That’s okay, though. I’ll take “band nerd” over “the girl who shows up sometimes” any day.
