In The Company of Honors

Summary: When a low ranking high school’s orchestra is randomly chosen to attend the world famous Carnegie Hall, a group of young procrastinating musicians hardly think they’re up to it. Yet their teacher believes this is the one chance for the school to receive the greatest honor.

“Success usually comes to those who are too busy to be looking for it.” -Henry David Thoreau

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Most schools go on a hiatus every summer. Teenagers would either run off to fun in the sun or scorch their brains with SAT 2400. Summers are looked to as a gift in pretty wrapping after suffering the clutches of education. Summers are ways to placate the average human teenager before he or she goes mad with stress from knowledge.

But before the summers arrive, comes the three seasons of school. There are times when students look to school as a prison. Then there are times when students see their school as a haven.

As I felt my time in this high school escape my grasping fingers, I came to see that school was a place of education, yes, but it was also something different. It was a type of education I hadn’t fathom until it left only to leave a note of memory.

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In a low budget school, such as Laguna Farrell High School, great teachers are hard to come by. The teachers you get either throw a book at you and warn you about a test in twenty minutes or teach you something only they seem to understand.

Our sport teams aren’t worth extolling yet. Our band and orchestra is something you can hide under rubble. When the principal demands “Laguna Farrell Pride” from us, we could only stare at him as if he was insane.

One glance at our red brick school, anyone would have thought this was a prison if not for the blinking marquee, screaming in neon red “every 15 minutes, someone dies in a drunk driving accident” then “Have a Nice Day.” Talk about paradoxes.

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The orchestra has not received the pretty title: “Pride of Laguna Farrell.” That would be band. Our orchestra consists of thirty-two students. We have a few girls, who love to gossip, a handful of kids, who want to destroy the nation with biochemical weapons, a gang of boys, who love to jump over stands and play Anakin Skywalker. The remaining few think their fellow companions need rehab.

The conductor of orchestra and band is a charging bull with the strength of an elephant over an ant. Extremely irascible, students quiver under his demeanor.

When Chito Lee pranced over a bass and stumbled into the piano, Mr. Wylton heaved Chito over his shoulder and dropped him into a chair.

“What grade are you in?” Mr. Wylton demanded, his voice softer than the hum of a hummingbird.

“10th...sophomore...”

“YOU ACT LIKE A FIRST GRADER! YOUR ATTITUDE SUCKS!”

A sudden wave of silence flooded the room as all watched Chito. Chito looked down, locking his hands behind his back.

“START TUNING! I WANT THE ORCHESTRA SET UP THE NEXT TIME I STEP OUT OF MY OFFICE!”

The door slammed and the walls quivered from the impact. As I set the music piece, New World Symphony, on the music stand, I wanted to drop my cello and run to safest place on earth: home. It’s time like these when the vehemence and passion for music atrophies and never wants to come back.