Melody and Harmony (Steve)

I managed to find a school, Mindcrack Middle and High School, to student teach at. By a stroke of luck, Caitlin and I managed to become music teachers at this school. I was concerned about how she would do managing sixth graders, but she quickly allayed my concerns. She taught general music, a basic course that teaches students how to read music, about various instruments, and what music is all about. Her students loved the class, her teaching style, and her humorous comments. She occasionally helped with the middle school track team. Despite her apparent lack of involvement, she quickly garnered the students' favor.

I, on the other hand, taught band, guitar, and did simulated combat after school. After years of student teaching under my not so patient professor's watchful eye, I still was not prepared for what followed. About fifty high school students poured into the band room awaiting my instruction. They eyed me while I rummaged for my score. When I finally found it, I introduced myself awkwardly. I spent two weeks reviewing the script with Caitlin, who had it down in a day. Then, I listened to the other students' introductions. Morgan aka Mo Mo plays the saxophone, Ali Ann plays flute, Liam plays clarinet, Alex plays baritone...

I lost track of time, so I hastily distributed the music. The sight read went well for the most part. It fell apart halfway through the song, but such a thing is expected from high school students of varying talent levels. We tried again at a slower tempo. The flute section got lost, the clarinets were out of tune, and the bassoonist...was a bassoonist. If I hadn't been trained to listen to a band, I would have not heard them over the trumpet section stomping them into the ground. I pointed these out. They listened fervently. However, the music swam before my eyes in a jumbled mess. It sapped my energy.

The cycle seemed to continue forever. The beginning band received their instruments and enthusiastically produced sounds on them. What they lacked in skill they made up for in eagerness. Kyle tapped out something that resembled a rhythm on a drum pad while Andreas managed to produce a tone on his flute.  Middle school intermediate band was chaotic, but not as bad as I thought it would be. They managed to stumble through a few measures of Dragon Fight. Hannah blew penetrating, yet not overwhelming notes through her trumpet; I thought she was better than some of the high school students. The intermediate guitar class plucked out some melodies and chords with me.

By the time the day was done, I felt horrible. I remember having the flu when I was young, but this was worse. Glowstone lighting, reading scores, and signing papers caught up with me. Caitlin visited me after the day. She asked me if I was sick, to which I said "No, I'm just tired". We walked home after that, but the sunlight made it even worse. I ended up vomiting into a bush. Someone nearby grumbled about sloppy drunks. I took a deep breath and regained my composure. Caitlin asked me if I was sure of the absence of illness. I said yes and described my past history and connection between reading and the symptoms that ensued. She looked at me concerned.
          "And this has happened for how long?"
          "For as long as I can remember, but it got worse after fighting the dragon".
          "Can this possibly be a form of dyslexia? One of my students has it. He's brilliant and has a great ear, but it causes him pain to read music. I give him breaks as needed."
          "Are you sure he's not just trying to get out of it?"
          "Getting out of it? He is willing to suffer horrible headaches, even migraines, to be able to carry out his passions. You, of all people, should understand what that is like." I was always told that I needed to try harder and it worked for me, so why shouldn't it work for him? Toughing it out never hurt anyone. I had survived by myself since the age of seven because my family never wanted me. One of my brothers had a seizure disorder, but of less severity than Caitlin's. It was clear that his needs took precedence over mine and the house had too many mouths to feed, so I had to be the one to go. I came to terms with having low self-esteem. I used music and sports to compensate for how I felt about myself. Why didn't Caitlin do that? She let herself be beaten, dragged, and abused and remained in that doormat-like state for all her life, yet she never seemed to break. To be honest, I both envied and pitied Caitlin. She remained an outcast and refused to step out against her tormentors. I don't know if it was by choice or by limit, by bravery or by cowardice. Anyway, I knew this: She is strong in a way I never could be. Her self-esteem was not built on championships or awards, but in the faith that someone thought she was worth it. Even if she never found that someone, she would cling onto that belief like a critical handhold when climbing. In the end, I just envy the quiet, unwavering strength within her. I contemplated this as we went to rehearse with the Minecraft Symphony Orchestra.