Student Entry #2

Ana (eighth grade) plays flute and piccolo:

Almost two weeks have passed since we found out that we made Midwest (if it wasn’t all a dream), so I can’t exactly put my emotions into words quite yet. All I know is that when I think of that moment when we found out we’d been accepted, my heart rate triples, my hands shake, and I have to blink back tears. That probably doesn’t make much sense to you, so I’ll try to help you understand my feelings by telling a bit about the McCracken Symphonic Band’s “journey,” to Midwest.

Last year, when I was in seventh grade, was the first time our band director seemed to believe that we had any chance of making Midwest. From when we recorded our application in February to when we found out we weren’t accepted in April, my peers and I began to understand how much Midwest meant to Mr. De Stefano.

When we found out we didn’t make it, we were heartbroken. There were many hugs that day, and the occasional tear. Although that wasn’t the most pleasant of my days, it definitely got me more motivated to make Midwest this year.

This year, Mr. D. scheduled an overnight trip to the University of Illinois so we could record in their concert hall for our Midwest taping. I had conveniently lost my voice to the point where if I tried to speak, nothing came out, but other than that the recording was a blast. We were feeling good when we returned to Skokie to await the results.

On April 4th, just before the end of the school day, I went into the music room to ask Mr. D. a question. I knew we were supposed to find out about Midwest that week, and he seemed excited about something, so I said, “Oh my God. Did you find out about Midwest?” He smiled and nodded. “Oh my God,” I said again, “You’re not gonna tell me, right?” “Nope,” he said. By this time I was majorly panicking. “Oh my God!” I said one final time, and then I rushed to tell everyone the news. And yes, I say Oh my God a lot. I told my friends and they freaked out even worse than I had. We then ran to the music room for afternoon band, nearly wetting our pants on the way.

We sat squirming in anticipation while Mr. D. read us the sectional schedule, knowing the announcement that would come next. He picked up a letter off the table and read, “Dear Chip: On behalf of the Board of Directors, it is my pleasure to invite you to present a concert at the 2006 “60th Anniversary” Midwest Clinic,” and the room EXPLODED. Whatever else he read was drowned out by screams and the sobbing of a certain friend of mine. Mr. D. went on to say how proud he is of us, how thankful he is to the eighth grade for giving them this opportunity, and many other eloquent, touching words, blah blah blah. He then dismissed the half of the band that had to leave for a special choir rehearsal. We stood up, and I, who barely ever hug anyone for any reason, grabbed onto my friends and held on like I’d die if I let go. We walked out of the room, and all of a sudden everyone lost it and started crying. We walked down the hall to the bathroom sounding like a bunch of abandoned children, but we were smiling like we’d never smiled before.

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