Friday, December 8, 2023

“How can I help you?... What is your complaint?”

II Kings 6:27-28

It was always important for my wife and me to be involved in the lives of our kids. We were never those parents who just dropped the kids off for activities and then returned later to pick them up. We did that too – the dropping off and the picking up. But we also tried to help where we could use our particular gifts and talents to support the programs that our kids enjoyed. Sometimes that meant volunteering to be the leader. Sometimes that meant volunteering to be a helper. Sometimes that meant lots of involvement. Sometimes that meant minimal involvement. Since we had four kids who were very busy in numerous activities and we were only two parents who were also very busy in numerous activities, we had to pick and choose where and when we could help. For our daughter Kristen, my time stepping up to the plate happened especially during her high school years while she was in the marching band.

Kristen first got involved in the band program through her middle school experience. At Kennedy Middle School, all children were encouraged to take part in some kind of musical learning during their sixth-grade year, and the curriculum was set up with several options from which the children could choose. Options included band, choir, and a general music class. Kristen opted to follow in her sister Anna’s footsteps and take the band class.

Near the end of their fifth-grade year, students were allowed to come to the middle school and try various instruments to see if they could make a choice prior to the beginning of the school year. My wife, Barb, went with Kristen for that adventure while I stayed home that evening. When they returned, I was told to guess which instrument she had selected. My first guess was the clarinet (since that was the instrument Anna played). I was wrong. So, I had to guess again. My next guess was the flute because, proportionally, Kristen and the flute were roughly the same size. Again, I was wrong. When they told me that her chosen instrument was the tuba, I figured that this was some sort of trick. The tuba was literally larger than Kristen – volume-wise and weight-wise – when she was in the fifth grade. I thought for sure that they had to be joking. They were not.

From that first night in fifth-grade, where she made a commanding sound from her little body into that big instrument, Kristen loved playing the tuba. As an adult, I believe that she is still smaller by volume and by weight than any tuba on the market. But during her middle school years, she clearly grew into the instrument. And she was so excited to be a part of the high school marching band program during her first year. She had the distinction of being the only girl in the tuba section (as well as the smallest tuba player). She didn’t mind. That didn’t bother her at all.

As she was joining the band program, a need presented itself for parents to help as well. The vast majority of the Uniform Moms (that was the unofficial if not official title of the role) retired the previous year since their kids had graduated from the high school, so there was a need for new parents to fill in the gap. I had sewing experience and a sewing machine, so I was qualified to help. And, although I was a dad and not a mom, the group was more than willing to include me. I figured that if Kristen could be the only girl in the tuba section without concern, I could be the only dad among the Uniform Moms without concern.

From the fall of 2010 until the spring of 2014, I had the privilege of serving as a Uniform Parent (the new title that was given to us as more dads also eventually joined the team). Although there were several volunteers who helped for specific events, over those four years there were three of us who spent most of the time together organizing the closet after marching events, repairing uniforms from rips and missing buttons, and responding to student complaints or concerns. We weren’t just needed as sewers. Sometimes we were needed as listeners. When the marching season was over, we organized the uniforms to get them ready for the annual dry cleaning. And, before you knew it, it was time to start measuring students once again for the next season. High school can be a time when rapid physical changes occur. So, there was no guarantee that the same uniform would fit from the previous season. Nor, for that matter, was there any guarantee that the selected uniform would fit for the entirety of one season. When people talk about how “the work is never done,” they were making a specific reference to the work of Band Uniform Parents – just in case you did not know that.

Kristen ultimately continued playing the tuba throughout her college years. She played in the Carroll University Wind Ensemble, and she even minored in musical performance. Her senior concert was outstanding, if I do say so myself. Of all of the spaces associated with those tuba years, one of the most sacred spaces for me was the small uniform closet at Germantown High School that was filled to the brim with uniforms and related equipment. That’s where conversations took place. That’s where complaints were heard. That’s where friendships were developed. That’s where goals were accomplished. That’s where I was able to help make a difference. It was fun. It was fulfilling. It was empowering. It was holy.