Mr. Honken Monologue

Band has always been an important part of my life, but the teacher who really made it my passion is Mr. Honken. Honken is, to me, a combination of Mangold’s seriousness and Connell’s negligence. Honken has been the most memorable band director yet through his agitation, relaxation, and inspiration. The fact that his original instrument was low brass doesn’t hurt, either.
First impressions usually determine the future, but I really don’t remember the first day of band camp, sophomore year, when Honken showed up. What I do remember is band camp the next year. There was an afternoon when what seemed to be the entire band was ignoring directions, complaining about the heat, and all around being a pain to the band directors. The exact order of events
Everybody in band refers to the directors without a mister stuck in front; it’s tradition, and in the Pride of the Dutchmen Band, we are tradition. I simply feel that the use of the word mister is wasted breath, especially when you’re trying to say something important quickly. There’s not much to it; the band directors are alright with it. Still, I’ve felt much more freedom in lessons with Honken than with Mangold or Connell. Some of those lessons, believe it or not, I would go so far as to consider fun. Usually, I end up talking to him for no more than five minutes about what to practice, then going into one of the practice rooms and spending the rest of whatever study hall I have a lesson during playing what I need to. I have the freedom to do things on my schedule and how I want to. Then there came a day when I just could not focus. There was even a pattern to it; I could play for around ten seconds, until a sudden fatigue came over me for the next ten. I waited through it, hoping to end the cycle, but I just couldn’t. What else was there to do than go back to Honken and tell him? Nothing else, besides just skip. What’s the danger in ending a single lesson early? There is none. So I walked in and told him about my odd case of fatigue. He told me I should just try and rest, so I got in a chair and did just that. I almost managed to fall asleep before the bell to the next class rang. Whatever the
My overly prideful, perhaps arrogant mind decided to try out for All-State just because I was feeling a bit excluded. ‘Why didn’t they ask me to do it? I’m much more passionate about band than she is.’ That question has a very simple answer; she was in the ‘good band,’ I was not. She practiced to maintain her first chair position in the symphonic band; I did just enough work to not get last… in the concert band. All of that nonsense about actually practicing flew in one ear and out the other as I marched into Honken’s office the next day to proclaim that I wanted to try out for All-State Band. I had no idea what I was getting into, but Honken went right along with it for the next five months, encouraging me to practice, but not forcing me to. He went about it right, where Mangold’s attempts at encouragement went wrong. Mangold told me that I had plenty of talent, and I could be so much better if I only practiced. Honken, instead, left out talent altogether and focused solely on effort. Even after All-State auditions had come and gone, and I failed miserably, Honken said that I ought to get a trigger trombone to make hitting lower notes easier. He said that it would be really helpful, but also that it wasn’t a necessary, do-or-die thing, and that was the kicker; I didn’t need to do it. I only wanted to. What