How A Standing Ovation Taught Me Not To Be A Jerk

In 7th grade we auditioned for band class by blowing on different instruments. Somehow all the girls ended up playing flute or clarinet and the boys trumpets and tubas. 

I got picked to play the bassoon. Go figure.

Two years later, in high school, I am soldiering on, desperate to complete the music requirement.  

One day our band teacher tells us that we’ll be joined by a new student, who’s been out sick. When she showed up the next day everybody stood up and clapped. 

J. then sat down as the last chair in the flute section.  Like a real orchestra, we sat in order of ability. If you wanted to move up the ranks, you challenged the person ahead of you to a musical duel. It was dog eat dog.

I couldn’t figure out why such a big fuss was being made over the worst flute player in the band. I was surprised and confused. 

I later found out the applause was for making it through cancer treatments, and not J.’s  flute playing skills. 

I felt like a 13-year old asshole. 

We’re conditioned to believe achievement equals worth. We make  odious comparisons, compete in rat races, and keep up with the Joneses.  But life doesn’t have to be a competition. Our worth is not determined by a seating chart.
We can celebrate each other’s humanity, instead of each other’s accomplishments. That’s what I aim for, ever since J. got her well-deserved standing ovation.