Welcome to Gaia! :: View User's Journal | Gaia Journals

Cindy came and told me this morning that she was gonna quit band.
I asked her why, and she said because we're being forced to march.
Yeah. And rebellious little me over here isn't gonna be forced to do that kind of s**t.
I'm quitting with her.

So here's the lowdown.
I'm in 8th grade band. I play the oboe with this other kid named Zack.
Now, Oboes can't march. Why? That little wooden thing, called a reed, dries up reaaallly fast. So we have to play a flute, cause it's the closest thing to an oboe. Either that or we're on the guard. Y'know, those girls in swimsuits who twirl colorful flags. Poor Zack.
Mom does not want me playing a school flute. Hell knows what kind of s**t it's been in. I ain't gonna twirl flags either.
I do not wanna learn how to play a flute and never do it again. I've been with an oboe since 6th grade.
The other part? I'd have to buy a flute in 9th grade. That $1000+, kiddos. Now, that's a hell no right there for me. I'd rather save it for something more important, like, say, a CAR or COLLEGE FUND.
Now, we're not only being forced into marching band next year, but we have to march in 2 parades this year! Christmas and Turkey Day. Once again, I'd have to learn the damn flute. And I have to wear nothing but a school logo hoodie over a shirt in below-freezing weather. I am not gonna put my health at risk because I have to march and play an instrument I only had a month to learn to play on at the same time in the freezing cold so half the town can gawk at me like a bunch of retards. And nobody is going to make me. Oh, did I mention it's mandatory? Either that or you get an F. And mom and dad can't write an excuse. You'd have to be dying to get outta this.
Another thing. Practices take up 99% of your social life. I happen to like my free time. Rumors going around some of the longest practices lasted from 3 PM to 10 PM. Yeah.

So basically, I'm quitting band. And so is more than half the 8th grade band class. We only had bout 20 people in the first place. Suck on this, Adams.

(Adams, aka Mr. Adams, is our band director.)