Any teacher will tell you that there are stories. Many, many stories. Most times the stories are heartfelt, and innocent kid stuff. Some stories are hilarious, some are tragic, but all of them make great memories and great stories. Here’s one that I haven’t thought about in a long, long time….
Summer of 2001.
In my early career, in addition to middle school, I also taught at several local area high schools working with drum lines for marching bands. I would write and teach parts for the pit instruments (played with mallets: marimbas, bells etc.) and the battery (snares, bass drums, crash cymbals and multi-tom-toms known as “quads”). It was fun and I enjoyed helping to put together half-time shows for football games, as well as parade music. Rehearsals in the fall were long and held often so music and marching could be memorized to perform each week. This also gave me a chance to tweak and rewrite parts that weren’t working for some reason or another.
Marching band music was usually purchased by the band director online, but sometimes, we wrote the entire show. In 2001, after talking about it for several years, a wonderful colleague, friend and mentor of mine (Gerry) and I took on the herculean task of writing a 13-minute show featuring the music of Styx.
Both of us grew up listening to this rock band and loved such classics as The Grand Illusion, Too Much Time on my Hands, The Best of Times, and Mr. Roboto.
I put the link to Mr. Roboto, as the vision of this tune was a futuristic world run by robots from the 1983 Styx album Kilroy Was Here. The song is somewhat silly to listen to now, but I thought it would be cool to work a robot/kilroy part somewhere into the show…
SO….near the end of the show, I wrote a drum break while the band would be moving on the football field with the drum line in front so the entire crowd could see them. At the end of the drum feature, the marching snare drummers (wearing their drums) would bend forward at the waist and play a unison figure of notes while slowly straightening up with herky-jerky robot movements. Once standing again, the line would pause for one beat and yell “KILROY!” It was great, and if you are or were a Styx fan at the time, you would definitely get the reference. It was an instant crowd pleaser, the kids loved it and it garnered loud applause…..Until….
Our season was just underway in the fall of 2001 and then you all know what happened….September 11. All sporting events were cancelled for weeks as the country mourned and adults and teachers everywhere tried to figure out how to insure the continuing safety of our students while at the same time trying to come to grips with these terrible events ourselves. If you lived through it, you know that the feelings come right back even as you read these words. It was and is the defining moment of our generation and the day that the whole world changed. High school football was suddenly not high on the priority list, nor was marching band.
A few weeks went by as all of the local schools tried to figure out a way to get to some new semblance of “normal.” When football did return, on a warm Friday evening in late September in New Hampshire it was a beautiful night. Classic early fall New England where the leaves are changing, the air is crisp with the promise of autumn but the days are still warm. Before the return to football and our Styx halftime show, the school put on a memorial ceremony honoring all victims of the 9/11 attacks. I remember a state honor guard, a few speeches, and a poignant playing of taps echoing through the large crowd packed into the metal bleachers. This was as big as high school football gets in New Hampshire where more than 3,000 viewing a game is a huge deal. I think people just wanted to feel a sense of community again while trying to heal.
Before each game, I would call the drum line over to a quiet spot near the end zone bleachers where the band sat. They would take a knee under a large maple tree and we would talk about the upcoming performance, things to listen for while on the field, and I would give them a general pep talk. It was always good bonding.
That night, one of my drummers (Matt…or as the kids called him: Matty McMatt Matt….everyone in my line had a nickname) said to me: “Moeschen, instead of yelling Kilroy tonight during the drum break, how about we yell U.S.A.?” I thought it was a great idea and the entire drum line….all 15 of us….agreed. Cool moment in the making right? WRONG.
One must remember, when teaching high school students, not everyone is checked in and focused all of the time. While marching on with eyes forward, sometimes a kid would get distracted and look at a running squirrel, a dog, or turn their head to smile at mom and dad, or to smell the popcorn. I tolerated all of this since high school is not professional grade, but I did always remind the kids to focus and put forth our best performance possible.
Thank you for being focused, loyal reader, because after all of that build up and waiting while you refreshed your memory listening to Styx, here comes the good (not good) part.
Between us deciding to yell “U.S.A.!” and actually taking the field at halftime, at least 5 minutes went by. Add another 10 minutes while the kids nervously performed the show in front of a packed house. I was watching from the top of the metal bleachers, as band director Gerry was above atop the press box where he could see all the marching formations. 15 minutes is apparently too long for some high school musicians to remember that we slightly altered the routine. Half of the drum line clearly screamed U.S.A.! while the other half forget and belted out “KILROY!”
As these lovely children’s vocal chords echoed out into the New England evening what the crowd clearly heard was “KILL-U.S.A.!”
My proudest moment this was not. Gerry peered over the press box railing and screamed an obscenity at me. When the kids marched off the field onto the track, I was right there. None of them looked at me as they marched by. Upon returning to the bleachers I screamed at them to come and take a knee. Some of them were crying and I didn’t have any clue what to say.
In the end, the drummers apologized to the band, and I encouraged the drum captain to write a letter to the school administration explaining what happened.
All these years later it is funny, not funny. This is what teaching is like.
Stay safe, stay awesome, and Kilroy was here. OOF.
Patrick moeschen 