He
reached out to the door and gently removed the nameplate from the holder
along its tracks. It caused him feelings of sadness. It caused him feelings of tremendous
anticipation. The lettering on the plate read: Mr. Terren Frenz, Band Director.
That name had stood on this door for 21 years. Today, it had to come down.
“We
can sort the music out on these tables here, Mr. Koontz,” she said from over
his shoulder.
“Sure,
that works. There’s a lot to sort, give me a few minutes here,” Ray
replied to his newly appointed Drum Major.
A
warm breeze moved through the open windows along the wall on that summer day in
1994. They didn’t turn on the overhead fluorescent lighting because of the heat;
there was enough natural light coming through the windows to see what they were
doing in the school band room.
You could say she was riding the messy front seat of the struggle bus on that morning in the band room. Her tall willowy frame looked strained and tired. Her dark hair was a mess that she pulled back with a borrowed hair-tie behind her head. He thought that, even in the dim lighting, she looked a little pale. She was wearing sweats and a long sleeve shirt on a warm day; Ray assumed that she was running a fever. She was. She would find out a day later that she had be slogging through a case of mononucleosis for the past week.
She
sat alone at the table; she tried to get a good focus through the glasses she
wore. She adjusted them a few times –
and was hoping she wouldn’t have to leave early to avoid throwing up -- and as
the sheet music began to be unboxed and removed from numerous folders, she saw
the titles on the many different pieces of music: ‘Seascapes by Steve Parsons’,
‘Lincolnshire Posy,’ and ‘Londonderry Air.’
It was going to be her senior year, her last year at Marlington, and her
first and only year as field commander of the Marching Dukes. Since Mr. Frenz
had unexpectedly selected her as field commander weeks before, she was
overwhelmed, excited, scared, intensely curious – she had a whole storm of
emotions within her that she would have to work through to do the job that was
expected of her as one of the new leaders of the band. And it was all more than just
‘band’ to her. It was part magic, part
family – she had been caught up in the tartan whirlwind which was the Marching
Dukes and she too had found a safe place, a place that she could be seen and
heard for the person she was deep inside. Her heart had been touched with the fire.
That’s the real reason she was there on that morning – doing her best not to
faceplant onto the table in front of her.
Neither
of them there that day could know that the music they were sorting and
organizing for the upcoming band camp would be the sound that constituted the
most significant show artistically that the Marching Dukes of Marlington had yet
attempted to perform. Their 14th
consecutive State Superior OMEA[1] rating, numerous local
championships, and their brush with Class A first place at both the BOA Regional
and National competitions were still months away.
She
watched over his shoulder as he carefully slid a new nameplate -- black face and
white letters -- onto the open office door. She could see that the office was empty,
sparsely furnished. He stood back to
read the nameplate: ‘Ray Koontz, Band Director.’ It was his first day in the new position; the
ship of his own 17-year journey as band director of Marlington High School
had just been put to sea. All he could
do was think back to that day when he sat up that black marble Dixie drum set
on his front porch on Rowland Street.
[1] “The Ohio Music Education Association (OMEA) is
the Ohio state-level
affiliate of MENC:
The National Association for Music Education. “ Ohio
Music Education Association - Wikipedia
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