When I hear the words “marching band”,
I think of 4 am’s eating donuts on the bus,
Piled in big heaps to conserve warmth,
Not caring who we were laying on.
I think of lips on fire,
Sectionals that drag on and on in
The scorching sun, and staying
At attention for longer than you can bear.
I think of impossibly quick changes into uniforms,
Asking your friends to zip you up,
Band moms wiping off bibbers and shoes,
And when you’re all ready, realizing you didn’t put on your mic.
I think of falling on turf during
25 mph wind gusts, hearing the hail smash your instrument,
Not being able to feel your face,
But knowing you have to play on just the same.
I think of eating at weird times,
Breakfast at 4 am, lunch at 10 am, and supper at 10 pm,
But knowing that when you get you get a chance to eat,
The band dads have got you covered.
I think of laughing so ******* the bus
You’re crying, sobbing even, sprawled across
Your best friends, and you think you’ll never calm down
Enough to ever play your instrument again.
I think of the drum majors’ voices yelling
LEFT LEFT LEFT
Over and over again until the freshmen finally understand.
There’s always that one that never does.
I think of the moment of utter agony
Before they announce the last place in your class,
And you’re squeezing your eyes shut, praying
That at the very least, you won’t be last.
I think of that moment of utter relief
After you hear the last place in your class,
And it’s not you, and your prayers have been answered
That at the very least, you were not last.
I think of the last competition of the season,
When the seniors are bawling and it seems like
Your entire world is crashing down,
And nothing will ever be right again.
This poem could go on forever,
But finally: finally.
When I hear the words “marching band”,
I think of that triumphant moment right
As your show ends for the last time,
That last horns down,
And you know you’ve given it your all,
And no matter what your score is,
You feel in your heart that you have put everything
You have out there,
All the music, the drill, the blood, sweat and tears,
Out there on that football field.
And that moment, you can get no where else, but
Marching band.

Please tell everyone your name, grade,
And what instrument you play.
We’re just going to go over some basics.
You can have a break in ten minutes.
Band, ten, HUT!
HUT!
Come to set!
Attention!
I said come to set!
Heels together, toes apart.
Check your posture!
Guide to your left!
No, your other left!
Your steps are too big.
No, now your steps are too small.
You have to stay at set for three minutes;
If anyone moves, we start again.
Restart the time!
Restart again!
Get your feet in time, freshmen!
Section leaders, I need to see you.  Now.
Your water break is still ten minutes away.
Drum majors, go get more batteries for the met.
First competition guys, good luck!
I don’t care if it’s late, we need to learn the drill.
Someone go run and turn on the field lights!
You’ll thank me later.
First football game, good luck!
Drumline, did I say you could put your instruments down?
Trumpets, get your horns up!  To the press box!
You’ll get it, don’t give up!
Last competition guys, congrats!
Give it your all and don’t look back!
Guard, don’t **** anybody with your flags.
GUARD!
Last football game, congrats!
Somebody please let the bass drums through!
Everybody give me your plumes!
Do NOT set your uniform on the ground!
I expect all of you back next year.
Thank you for giving me your best.
I apologize for when I was at my worst.
I love you guys.

Appreciation is showed for the marching band by how many horns are honked while cars drive by on the nearby road
Or almost stepping on small baby Toads on the walk to your car
In the middle of the night
Sleep deprived
It's okay, we wouldn't want it any other way