Nicholas Shafarzek Memoir piece In 4th grade I was given a sheet of paper asking if I was interested in playing a musical instrument, and if I was what would it be. Little did I know the decision I penned to this sheet would influence the rest of my life in an enormous way. My instrument of choice? Trombone. Divine luck brought me to this fine instrument, as I didn't really know what it was. Due to a shortage of instruments, there was a spot for first choice of instrument, and second choice of instrument. My first choice was trombone, and my second choice was French Horn. I at least knew that the trombone was the instrument with the slide but I knew absolutely nothing about French Horn. I'm lucky to have gotten my first pick because now I don't really like the French horn. I do love, however, the instrument that I have now been playing for 7 years. In 4th grade my music teacher was Ms. Plouff. At least I think that's how you spell her name. She had red hair and a very pretty voice. She said she could play every instrument to some degree. I believed her. She helped me alot during my first few years of playing, learning scales and getting the feel for the instrument. Although she meant well, her practice sheets were extremely annoying, requiring that, as preteens, we have the responsibility to practice every day, and have a parent sign saying we ACTUALLY did. Being as young as I was I never got the practice sheet filled out. The only music I had to practice was extremely boring, as we were in elementary school and had not yet rooted out those who had no talent. Due to this we only every played songs full of whole notes and quarter notes, with the trumpet players and flute players sometimes having the pleasure of playing eighth notes. Many in the band did not like me. I'm
surprised I was able to continue through to high school considering how bad middle school was for me. In 6th grade my prime achievement was being able to play the D above the staff. I had always been fond off listening to trumpet players try to squeal out notes above the staff, and I did the same. In 7th grade I participated in my first parade. The parade sealed the deal for the rest of my school career. On that cold wintry night in December, standing on Erie boulevard in the middle of Schenectady with my trombone in hand, and a bright orange uniform on, I would realize that I loved to play music. As we marched by my parents, everyone screaming and cheering for the Mohonasen Middle School marching band, I decided that I would never stop playing trombone, even that I COULD not ever stop. Which was surprising, as at the band room before leaving for the parade, my instrument was destroyed. Steve Cara stepped on the pipe that led to the bell. The instrument was bent at a 30 degree angle in three places. I swiftly put it away, only mildly thinking about what to tell my parents, and grabbed the other trombone player's instrument and walked out to the bus. Anybody else would have thrown in the towel, but different plans seemed to have been made for me. The instrument was beyond repair, and so I bought the instrument that would carry me through 8th grade and two years of high school. and Camp is the great equalizer of all instrumentalists. The two weeks before freshman year begins decide whether or not music is something that is important to you. Middle school parade music memorization is a joke. We have to memorize 7 minutes worth of music for the field show, along with directions to move, and how to move. You even have to completely relearn how to march due to having to march in different directions, facings, and having to march on grass and turf fields. Band camp is notorious for scaring away the faint of heart and making
talented musicians into section leaders. Band camp made me twice as good as I was before I entered. In the first year of field band, we got 4th in the state championships. In sophomore year we won the whole thing. Shortly thereafter, a trombone player from Brazil came to our school, as a kind of inbetween place before he went to Julliard. I'm not joking. His name was Elio and he was my inspiration. This kid was a professional before he got out of high school! At the end of my junior year I still am not quite as good as he was. Close! But not quite. Elio was so good that the school featured him as a soloist for an entire song, Reflective Mood, which leads to my inspiration. In junior year we lost the championships again, but after having proved myself to Mr. Bushey, the high school band director, I was given a solo in the song Sedona. I performed it in competition and at the spring concert and decided to prove myself as a musician by playing Reflective Mood at the NYSSMA competition for soloists. As I am yet working on making my performance perfect, you may never know how I do with my performance, but one thing can be certain. I can never stop playing music and I never will.