I am the Skeleton in the Closet

Misplaced Faith

Erica and I had spent hours going over our school schedule for the next year trying to get all the classes we could together. I had always been pretty good at math so going into eighth grade I was already a whole grade level above Erica and the rest of my friends in the subject so that ruled out one class we could take together. I decided to take my first language class in eighth grade also. I chose German, no matter how much she tried to tell me she was interested in that language too she ended up taking Spanish. We did our best to write what we didn't take together as our backups, but in the end, she and I wound up with almost completely different schedules besides our second hour art class.

I had chosen to do band once more and going into Junior High School, the band teachers personality completely changed. Instead of a scary looking intense woman viciously conducting, we were greeted with a meek professor looking guy. His hair was black and short, it just barely reached an inch down his forehead and was kept rather well cut and gelled down flat to his blockey head. His conducting was rigid and stern. Much easier to read than the lasts cursive conducting. He had thick framed black glasses that sat halfway down his nose. His favourite composer was Pierre La Plante. I could probably play some of his pieces from memory if given a brief look at the score. We played them so much that when I left his class Brad, Laura, Mae, and I got him his very own fake plant named Pierre who became his famed class pet in the years to come. He was always a stickler for those horrible cheesy jokes.

"How many trumpets does it take to change a light bulb?" He asked the trumpet section one day when they were being particularly rowdy. He closed his mouth and leaned forward slightly with his lips pursed and eyebrows raised expectantly waiting for them. "Five..... One to actually do it and the other four to tell him how much better they could have done it." He waited for the forced laugh from the class before raising his baton again having recaptured our attention. "Alright and a one... two... th..." He trailed off as we started.

Much to his credit he never used scare tactics to coax us into behaving. He'd tell a dumb joke and just start conducting for everyone that was paying attention. Sometimes only half the class would be playing, he would calmly stop the class with his arms raised still, make some choice eye contact, then get going again.

"Come on guys." He'd quietly mumble, lightly tapping the baton on his podium. "Come on." Emphasizing the C as he brought up the baton to attention before starting the music again.

Erica didn't follow me into band class in junior high and I didn't get along with the other girls in my section so I would just talk to the teacher. His name was Mr. Harem. He'd watch me fingering the notes or practicing my embouchure while the other students messed around behind me and gave me pointers. He kept me between first and second chair by his podium so, when he was giving us a small breather or before class, we'd joke back and forth with the worst band humor.

"How many conductors does it take to change a light bulb?" I asked him after a similar joke earlier that day.

"Not sure if I'm gonna like this one." He laughed sorting through his music to find the section he wanted to go over making a tiee-tiee-tiee chirp with his tongue as he flipped.

"Probably only one, but who's really watching?" I laughed out with a raised brow.

He stopped sifting through the sheets for a minute closing his eyes and laughing quietly. "That's a good one." He laughed a little louder before calling us to attention and telling the class the joke much to their annoyance.

I never told over half of the people I knew that I was adopted. I felt like it marked me more than I already literally was with the giant splotch on my face and neck. I didn't even tell Erica for a while. Until I did in eighth grade.