Mother Major Ella J Wogaman

Being a drum major is like being a mother of 140. Every rehearsal, someone needs a bandaid, an ice pack, a hug. A freshman is having a bad day and needs a high-five or a pep talk. A clarinet player breaks their instrument. “Ella, can you get me a new one? I also need a reed,” they ask, forgetting I haven’t played clarinet in years and we have a band manager with a key to instrument storage.

As I walk the halls, every marcher, new and old, looks for a smile and a wave. Between classes, there is no moment to spare. A flautist has a question about a rhythm in the music she got during rehearsal today. A saxophone player needs advice on how to ask a girl to homecoming. The sousaphones want me to attend their section party this weekend. Every band class, my director has a task, “Please make copies of this song... Help the tuba player learn his fingerings… Can you cover the extra percussion part?”

I have watched my young ones take their first steps - first 8 to 5 marching steps, that is. I have watched them grow and mature, learning how to make friends and make music. They have taught me more about taking care of others than I ever thought I’d learn. Being a drum major is like being a mother of 140, and I love each and every one of my...