Even with a drum saving Sarah’s boyfriend from being squished by a teen driver, I forget that we’ve been doing band camp for three years now. It has poured rain every day this week, but the band is still marching, every day, in the monsoon, from 8 in the morning until 8:30 or 9 every night. Yesterday, I sat in the office of another high school waiting for my appointment as a dazed parent wandered in the center of the school preparation chaos.
“Can I help you?”
“Um, yes. My daughter is a freshman, err, is going to be a freshman and doesn’t want to come to band camp anymore. How do I get band off her class schedule?”
“Well, the guidance counselor is away for training all week. Maybe you can reach her by e-mail.”
“Oh, uh, thanks. We’re going home now.”
I squirmed in my chair and bit my tongue so that I didn’t blurt, “You AND your child need to go talk to the band director right now.”