Dodo Eggs

I’m sitting in the back corner of Mrs. Medder’s study hall with my math book open but completely ignored. Instead, my head is turned to one side; my eyes pulled over my shoulder. In the corner are bits of pencil shavings and stray hairs mixing with the wispy, phantom mass of common dust. There’s no telling how long it’s been there.

I take a silent breath then puff toward the corner. In response, the entire delicate mass shudders a bit. Making the dust bunny dance is the closest thing I have to telekinesis. I imagine myself as the great North wind driving my wares into a fragile tropical hut. It gives me a reason to live.

Being a high school senior isn’t easy especially when your schedual drags you into a study hall at the end of the day. Each day it seems my purpose is to heat the chair I’m sitting in. If the school administration was to place a fertile egg under my posterior, I’d probably be able to hatch it.

“Can I see Matt for a moment?” The voice belongs to Miss Leber the band director. I pop out of my seat then pause waiting for the blood to recirculate.

Mrs. Medder looks at me as if I hadn’t heard. “Matt, I believe your wanted in the hall.”

I skip into the hall ready to move boxes of food into the back of the cafeteria. My shoulders adjust to the prospect of carrying heavy speakers out of the gym. I’m ready for anything that involves movement.

Miss Leber pulls me away from the door and asks, “Matt, are you busy during this period?”

I stifle a laugh. “Well, I am shepherding my flock of dust motes. I’m hoping that whoever sweeps the room continues to leave the back corner alone. I’m not sure what I’d do without them.”

“Very amusing. Look, Sam Hair is currently doing the bass drum for the band and I want you to come in and try to it.”

My eyes narrow a bit. “Sam Hair? But Sam has cerebral palsy. The only place he could keep a beat would be in his head.”

“I know.” Miss Leber’s started chewing on her bottom lip. “He wanted to participate in band so I gave him a shot with the drum and now I don’t know what I was thinking! Obviously, he can’t keep proper time so I need you to help me out. Can you?”

“Will I earn a band pin for my varsity letter? The girls really like that gold harp.”

“Sure, why not. You know the school gets like a hundred of those for about twenty dollars.”

“One final thing then. During the Christmas concert’s playing of Silent Night, I’ve always thought a kazoo solo would be…”

“No, don’t even bring it.” She turned and marched back down the hall. “I’ll see you tomorrow during this period.”

The next day Sam was in the back of the percussion section with a triangle in his hand. The expression on his face was a little hard to read. It was a hybrid of bitter rejection and the thrill of a new love. I decided everything was ok as long as Sam wasn’t sitting directly behind me.

I made the most of my opportunity to awaken my musical talents. With practice, I even learned two different paces (or times or pentameters or rhythms…heck I don’t know, I could go fast or slow!)

At the end of the year, Miss Leber was true to her word. I was called to the podium during awards night with the rest of the band members. And if you look at my varsity letter closely, you’ll see two gold pins sticking through the front. Turn the letter over and you’ll spy the proud gold harp of a band letterman.

Note: Except for the kazoo exchange, this story is absolutely true. When I tell people I went to a small high school, I use this story to help emphasize the point.

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• Testing Love
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