A lone trumpet sounds upon the wind
When a tragedy occurs, it's not unusual to want to find out more--why did this happen, could it have been prevented, that sort of thing. But when you discover a tie to the tragedy, no matter how tenuous, it brings it home just that much more.
I've been going on about the weather and how windy it's been for a couple days now. It's been more of an inconvenience than anything else, except last night on the 10 o'clock news there was this story about a kid at Notre Dame who was killed because the lift he was on toppled over, most likely due to this wind. His name was Declan, and he was from the northwest suburbs. You know, I had a student named Declan, who'd be about that age, and he'd possibly be from that town... I'd already turned off the light and was about to go to bed while listening to the news, but that woke me up and got me curious. As I turned on the light and got out my teaching scrapbooks, I listened to the rest of the story, and around the time I pulled out my programs from that grade school, the anchor mentioned that, yes, he'd gone to that certain grade school. This had been my student.
Declan wasn't a kid I knew well. The ones I knew best were the ones who'd gone to camp; he never did. And unlike some of his classmates, he wasn't especially a pain; that was reserved for the saxes and drummers. Oy. Except he was notable for one reason; he was my first-chair trumpet player. He did okay. Like, he was definitely the best trumpet player that band had, but when it came time to perform, he'd get nervous, and when he went down, he took the rest of the section with him. Like, the others couldn't perform if he couldn't. You wanted to tell the rest of them to buck up and play.
I kind of felt bad for him, too--my boss, the main director (and the one who'd known him for years) knew about what could be called performance anxiety and didn't help to make it better, let's put it that way. Also, there were a lot of politics involved. I think maybe Declan had a tiny solo in one song, but it was the second-chair player who got a whole-song solo. He couldn't play. We actually had to change songs because the first one we picked was too hard and he couldn't get it, and I held my breath during the concerts because he hadn't played cleanly up until that point; he did make it through. While he never said anything, I don't doubt that it steamed Declan--I know he could have played either song, and I know he knew it too. It was political because the second-chair player was the son of the principal, and being from Chicago, my boss knew how to keep his wheels greased, so to speak.
Those are the main memories I have of Declan, and otherwise I never expected to hear anything of him again. I certainly didn't expect him to die six and a half years later. I don't even have any pictures of him, since he wasn't at the award ceremony we held a week after the concert (an odd-to-me tradition at this school) and I couldn't go on the Senior Band trip because I was at another school that day. I did recognize his face from the pictures posted in the online news stories, though. He was young enough to still have baby fat back then, so it took me a minute to realize that, yes, this was the same person. It was really weird seeing his name as one of the top searches online, as well as reading the various articles about him. I was glad to see that he continued as a musician in high school, though; hopefully his high school director was more understanding and encouraging.
He is now at least the third of my students to pass away, and the second under what could be called sensational circumstances. I hope he's the last for a long time. Can the rest of them at least graduate from college, please?
I've been going on about the weather and how windy it's been for a couple days now. It's been more of an inconvenience than anything else, except last night on the 10 o'clock news there was this story about a kid at Notre Dame who was killed because the lift he was on toppled over, most likely due to this wind. His name was Declan, and he was from the northwest suburbs. You know, I had a student named Declan, who'd be about that age, and he'd possibly be from that town... I'd already turned off the light and was about to go to bed while listening to the news, but that woke me up and got me curious. As I turned on the light and got out my teaching scrapbooks, I listened to the rest of the story, and around the time I pulled out my programs from that grade school, the anchor mentioned that, yes, he'd gone to that certain grade school. This had been my student.
Declan wasn't a kid I knew well. The ones I knew best were the ones who'd gone to camp; he never did. And unlike some of his classmates, he wasn't especially a pain; that was reserved for the saxes and drummers. Oy. Except he was notable for one reason; he was my first-chair trumpet player. He did okay. Like, he was definitely the best trumpet player that band had, but when it came time to perform, he'd get nervous, and when he went down, he took the rest of the section with him. Like, the others couldn't perform if he couldn't. You wanted to tell the rest of them to buck up and play.
I kind of felt bad for him, too--my boss, the main director (and the one who'd known him for years) knew about what could be called performance anxiety and didn't help to make it better, let's put it that way. Also, there were a lot of politics involved. I think maybe Declan had a tiny solo in one song, but it was the second-chair player who got a whole-song solo. He couldn't play. We actually had to change songs because the first one we picked was too hard and he couldn't get it, and I held my breath during the concerts because he hadn't played cleanly up until that point; he did make it through. While he never said anything, I don't doubt that it steamed Declan--I know he could have played either song, and I know he knew it too. It was political because the second-chair player was the son of the principal, and being from Chicago, my boss knew how to keep his wheels greased, so to speak.
Those are the main memories I have of Declan, and otherwise I never expected to hear anything of him again. I certainly didn't expect him to die six and a half years later. I don't even have any pictures of him, since he wasn't at the award ceremony we held a week after the concert (an odd-to-me tradition at this school) and I couldn't go on the Senior Band trip because I was at another school that day. I did recognize his face from the pictures posted in the online news stories, though. He was young enough to still have baby fat back then, so it took me a minute to realize that, yes, this was the same person. It was really weird seeing his name as one of the top searches online, as well as reading the various articles about him. I was glad to see that he continued as a musician in high school, though; hopefully his high school director was more understanding and encouraging.
He is now at least the third of my students to pass away, and the second under what could be called sensational circumstances. I hope he's the last for a long time. Can the rest of them at least graduate from college, please?