No one in their right mind would be excited for the first day of school—except a high school band teacher.

I couldn’t help myself. After spending years getting degrees, and years listening to my parents tell me how wrong a decision I’d made by pursuing music, I was finally hitting the ground running, and I couldn’t wait. Sure, things wouldn’t be easy, I would no doubt have a few problematic students—and probably my fair share of drama as a result of being a high school teacher—but I was still excited about it. After more years in school than I cared to count getting ready to have a classroom of my own, how couldn’t I be excited?

So when the first bell rang, the very first bell of the year, I jumped in excitement. Doors slammed open and immediately voices filled the halls as students spilled out into them after being released from their homeroom classes. I realized not many of them would be excited about having band class first thing in the morning, but there wasn’t anything I could do about that. I didn’t make the schedule; I just had to stick to it.

I stood waiting for the students at the front of the class, before the raised podium style seating installed in the only classroom for music. I’d been told, by several people, that Beauclaire high school had never had a genuine music program, at least not one that amounted to anything anyway, so that was another reason I was excited. Music was my everything, my entire life, and if it were something I could pass on to even one student as a result of teaching music at Beauclaire High, it would be worth it.

Students stared at me as they passed, sizing me up, clearly not recognizing me. I couldn’t imagine they’d had many teachers come and go in this school, given the size of the town and the relative undesirability of it. It wasn’t my first choice to come here, but music jobs were hard to come by, especially one like this that would let me have free reign to do whatever I wanted with the program.

“Okay, everyone, take a seat please!” I called over the sea of students as they fought for chairs. I wouldn’t have guessed high school students would be so rowdy this early in the morning, but that was one of many things I had yet to learn.

“I’m Mr. Johnson, your new music teacher. I prefer that you call me that, if in fact you’re gonna call me anything,” I said, and some of the boys in the back chuckled. “Very funny. Let me guess; you’re already making jokes about my name being Johnson. You aren’t the first one, and I’m sure you won’t be the last,” I said, and their chuckling stopped almost immediately.

“Good. Thank you for the quiet. So, how many of you have played an instrument before?” I asked. The Principal told me that many of the students who were interested in music had never even picked an instrument before, much less played in an organized band. That made me nervous, but it was just another challenge for me to overcome and an opportunity to make myself shine.

Only the kids who had band geek written all over them raised their hands. They'd be my rock stars, the people to help me iron out the rough edges of the rest of them, and I was glad I had at least a few.

“Great. The rest of you who didn’t raise your hands, have you learned how to read music?” I asked. Most of them raised their hands, which was a blessing. At this level, I didn’t have the time or the interest to teach kids how to read music. Granted, some of them might’ve been lying, or over exaggerating their abilities, but as long as they could read the basic stuff, we’d be fine.

“Perfect. Since I’m new, as you’ve no doubt noticed, I thought it might be a good idea for us to get to know each other through music,” I started, and a few people groaned. “Don’t worry, this isn’t one of those lame things where we share our names and an interesting fact about ourselves,” I said, and a few people clapped. “I want this class to be exciting. I want you guys to come here jazzed up to play music, to hear music, to live through music,” I said. That didn’t seem to excite them as much as I wanted it to, but I couldn’t say I was surprised. It was hard to get teenagers interested in much of anything, much less classical music.

I reached for a stack of sheet music I’d made copies of earlier that morning and handed the stack to the first student on the first row of the podium seating.

“Take one of these and pass it down until everybody has one. Once you’ve gotten your copy, take a look at it. See what you can read, make a note of what you can’t, and after a few minutes we’ll go through it all together,” I said and stood back with my arms crossed as I watched the kids. The ones who said they’d played an instrument before seemed to blaze through the music like it was nothing, reading it like it was their first language. The others, who indicated they could read music, struggled through it but seemed to get through it nonetheless.

Everyone else seemed befuddled and disinterested.

I gave it a few more minutes, watching each of them individually and collectively, wondering what the hell I’d done. Teaching these kids wasn't going to be easy, not by any stretch of the imagination, but I could live up to the challenge.

“Okay, that should’ve been enough time by now. Since today is just the first day and we’re getting to know each other, I thought it might be a good idea to leave instruments out of the equation,” I said. Truthfully, I just didn’t want to hear any of them trying to play. It was my first day; I didn’t need a headache. A few students groaned, but others looked delighted. That was about the kind of reaction I expected.

“Instead, I’d like for us all to read the music together and sing the parts. We’ve all got a perfectly good instrument built right into us,” I said with a smile, and that turned a few faces to horror. Singing in front of others can be scary for almost anyone, but for judgmental teenagers, it was evidently a nightmare. “Don’t worry, we’re not here to judge each other, and no one will be able to hear you over the whole group anyway. I just want to see where everyone is at, what kind of areas we need to work on, that sort of thing,” I said.

It was a simple piece, a melody they’d all recognize once we started singing—Mary Had a Little Lamb—but it employed some advanced musical techniques I wanted to see if anyone would notice. I raised my hands into conductor’s pose, and as if they’d been trained dogs, they all sat bolt upright in their chairs, staring down at the music ready to sing.

“Okay, I’ll count to three, and then we’ll get started. Ready? One, two, three,” I said and began conducting them, my hands bouncing up and down in the area to the rhythm of the music. Surprisingly enough, the kids weren’t terrible. They had some trouble with the more advanced rhythms, and most of them were off key, but I couldn’t ask for much better than that. We ran through the piece of music relatively quickly, and by the time we reached the end, more than a few kids were off track.

“Not bad, I think you’re off to a good start. We’re going to be working on this piece for a couple of days this week, so you’d better go ahead and get yourself familiar with it. Next class, we’ll get the instruments out and try our hands at that to see how it goes,” I said.

“How lame. I thought this was band, not choir,” one of the boys in the back objected. I couldn’t tell if he meant for me to hear him or not, but I heard it nonetheless.

“It is band class, but we can’t have band if we can’t read music. We’ve gotta start from the bottom and work our way up. What’s your name?” I asked.

“Derek,” the kid answered. He seemed like trouble in the making.

“Nice to meet you, Derek. Trust me, we’ll get to playing instruments soon. We’ve got our first concert coming up in a few weeks and we can’t pull that off if we don’t play our instruments,” I said.

“Whatever,” Derek said, rolling his eyes and slouching back in his chair. He had all the earmarks of a percussionist, the kind of kid who just wanted to stand at the back of the room and look cool, not because he enjoyed the music, but because he enjoyed what it might get for him.

It was amazing to me just how archetypal teenagers could be.

A knock on the classroom door surprised me. I turned to find Principal Emily Hagan peering through the square of clear plastic serving as a window. She waved at me, smiling, and beckoned me over. We had to keep the classroom doors locked for safety reasons, a fact that depressed me more than anything because we couldn’t let the sound of our music carry through the hallways during class the way we’d done when I was in school.

I stepped over to the door and opened it and found Principal Hagan wasn’t alone. Standing next to her was a young man who was almost as tall as she was. He had a full beard, he wore a rock band T-shirt of some sort, and he looked nervous. He stared at the floor and fiddled with his pockets.

“Hey, Clay, sorry to interrupt,” Emily said.

“It’s no trouble. How can I help you?” I asked.

“I need to introduce a new student to you. This is Parker Smith; he’s new to the area and new to the school. He’d like to join the band,” Emily said, gesturing down at Parker. Parker gave me a smirk and nodded before he went back to staring down at the floor.

“Well, I guess that makes two of us, doesn’t it?” I asked Parker. He furrowed his eyebrows at me but didn’t answer. “I’m new to the area myself. This is my first class on my first day, so I guess maybe we were meant to meet each other,” I said. That almost brought a whole smile to Parker’s face, which encouraged me.

“Do you play an instrument, Parker?” I asked.

“No, not yet. I like drums; I’d like to learn how to play them,” Parker said. It was odd to me that someone who looked so developed physically for his age could be so shy socially, but I knew more than my fair share about how that happened. It wouldn’t be easy to be the new kid in town anywhere, much less in a small town like Beauclaire, especially if you looked like Parker did. I couldn’t explain why, but there was something about the kid that spoke to me, something I liked about him without ever really getting to know him.

“Okay, we can work with that. Do you know how to read music?” I asked.

“No, sir,” Parker asked. That was disappointing, but it wasn’t a deal breaker.

“No worries, we can work on that too. Do you have your schedule yet?” I asked.

“Not yet, that’s what we’re working on now. I just wanted to get an okay from you before I put him in the class,” Emily said.

“The more, the merrier, right?” I asked, smiling at Parker. Parker returned the smile and nodded at me. Already he seemed to be coming out of his shell, and I took that to mean he was excited to be there, unlike most of the other kids in the room. We needed more excitement. “We haven’t gotten far beyond initial introductions to the music, so you’re just in time. Do you want to join us now?”

“Is that okay?” Parker asked Emily.

“Oh, of course. We can finalize the rest of your schedule for you, it’s almost done anyway,” she said, and Parker beamed. He walked around me and took a seat at the back of the room—right next to Derek.

“Thanks a lot, Clay,” Emily said. “I couldn’t get the kid to open up, could barely get him to tell me his name. Maybe you’ll have better luck, and the music will help get him out of his head,” she said.

“I sure hope so. We’ve got a lot of work to do if we’re going to make this a success, but I think he’ll be a good addition,” I said. “The fact he’s already wearing rock band shirts and is interested in playing drums says a lot to me.”

“Good luck,” Emily said with a wave and set off down the hall. I closed the door and turned back to the classroom to find it in utter chaos. Some of the kids had made their sheet music into paper airplanes, others had torn off pieces of it and were spitting the pieces at each other.

“All right class, back to it,” I called over the noise. I caught Parker’s eye at the back of the room, smiled at him, and reached for another piece of the sheet music. “Pass this to the young man in the back of the room, please,” I asked the girl nearest me. The piece of music traveled up the room to Parker’s hands, and he stared down at it like he had no idea what it was.

“Okay. Let’s run through this one more time, this time with the addition of our new student, Parker,” I said. I didn’t mean to put him on the spot, but I had to introduce him to the other kids before they started asking questions and acting funny. Parker’s face caught fire and he stared down at the piece of music like it might save him from a catastrophe.

No one said anything. We ran through the piece again, this time sounding a little bit better, and by the end of it I was much more confident. The kids had a lot of energy, and they might’ve pretended like they were super disinterested in music, but it seemed to me like none of them wanted to be singled out as doing a poor job, so they all got their act together when the rubber hit the road.

“Great job. I like what I hear so far. I think by the time we get the instruments out next class, you guys will all be in great shape. We’re almost out of time, but I would love to work with you some more if you’re interested,” I said. “I’m starting an after school music club. I've heard there's never been anything like that at the school before, so I think it’s going to be a lot of fun.”

“Is that like a glee club for homos?” Derek asked, laughing with his friends. Though I tried to fight it back, my face caught fire. I wasn’t shocked that in a small town like this I might get that kind of reaction when it came to music, but it still caught me right in the gut. Parker looked at me, blushing right along with me, and I knew I had to say something.

“That’s not funny, and I won’t tolerate in my classroom,” I snapped, fixing Derek with my toughest teacher face.

“Why? Because of the new gay kid?” Derek asked, and a hush fell across the room. In an instant, Parker had flown out of his chair and was heading for the Derek. I jumped up the podium as fast as I could, desperate to get between them to prevent anything bad happening, but it was too late. Parker took a swing, which Derek dodged, and in the blink of an eye more fists had been thrown.

By the time I managed to pry them apart, I’d taken more hits than either of the kids had. Obscenities were thrown, and my shirt got torn in the process, but the kids were separated, and that was all that mattered.

“Derek, go to the Principal’s office now,” I barked. Derek heaved and stared Parker down, but eventually turned in a huff and stormed out of the room, slamming the door closed behind him.

“I want you to stay after class, understood?” I asked Parker, and he nodded, tears in his eyes as once more he stared down at the floor. The bell rang moments later and the rest of the students left in a scramble, desperate not to be included in the punishment.

It wasn’t the best first day ever.