By Leah Wright
The Wildcat Roar
Novi HS
1st Place
Division 1, News Writing
Feature Columnist
I never, ever thought I would be in a marching band.
When I was younger, I thought all the time about what I would be like when I’m older. What activities I would be involved in, who I would surround myself with, what classes I would take.
And I didn’t think I would be spending the better part of my Mondays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays in the middle of a field holding a gun-shaped piece of wood covered in electrical tape.
But there I’ve stood for four years, quite literally, in the middle of a marching band.
And honestly, I wouldn’t change a thing.
I wouldn’t trade the long summer days, the icebreakers and basic technique, the tan skin and dirty feet, for anything.
I wouldn’t trade the 11-hour camp days in the middle of July and August for anything. Yes, Band Camp is actually a thing. And it’s hype.
I wouldn’t trade half-time at every one of the home football games, fresh-man to senior year, for anything.
I wouldn’t trade every Saturday where I have had to say “Sorry, I have guard,” for anything.
I wouldn’t trade every time I’ve had to perform in the rain (or snow), or get absolutely poured on in the goal line minutes before we took the field.
I wouldn’t trade the tears of frustration, or the tears of joy.
I wouldn’t trade fourth in the state for anything. Except for maybe third, second or first, I guess.
And I wouldn’t trade “Heels Over Head,” “In Love and War,” “Persephone’s Passage,” or “The Order of X” for the world.
Because absolutely nothing beats stepping onto the field, performing a show that used to be a set of coordinate points on an index card, telling me to be 2.75 steps inside a certain yard line, 10.25 steps in front of a certain hash.
There’s absolutely nothing else like it. But now it’s over.
I won’t perform on Ford Field again;
I won’t try and tell time by how far the sun has set behind the high school anymore; I won’t come home and cover the floor of my house in a layer of black astro turf. There’s something nostalgic about the latter, I promise.
Nothing will be the same a year from today, so different from what it’s been like for me for the past four years.
But maybe my Big Life Decisions of the Future will bring me back to Ford Field. Maybe I’ll be standing on a different practice field in a couple years, trying to tell time by shadows that aren’t familiar to me yet. Maybe I’ll empty turf onto a dorm room floor, or someone else’s floor entirely.
I had so many expectations for how I wanted to live my life in high school. Even though I probably didn’t meet half of them, I’m completely happy where I am.
I have a lot of expectations for how I want to live my life after high school, too. And it terrifies me to think I might not meet half of them.
But if I’ve learned anything from being involved in this weird, incredible, crazy activity, it’s that not meeting expectations can be the greatest thing to ever happen.