I'm a Drummer. Matt Tibbitts

As a child, one of my favorite moments in the year was watching the daily parade at the Big E with my family. Seeing the brightly colored floats drive brought me indescribable joy. Candy flew out of windows, classic cars honked their horns, and important people waved to the crowd. Through all this madness, one group took hold of my attention: the marching bands.

Suddenly the intermediate honks were replaced with the blare of trumpets as a band approached my seat. A crack began to form on my glasses as the woodwind section screeched; however as the percussion section came into view, my mind locked onto their beats. The bass drummers hit their drums as the sound penetrated my chest and seemed to give me a second heartbeat. The snare drummers demonstrated their might and skill as I stuck my fingers in my ears just enough to halt their powerful sound, but not enough to kill their rhythmic music. In these moments I realized something: I wanted to be a drummer.

At a young age, I couldn’t simply throw on a uniform and march; instead, I got a drum pad and learned the song every band kid learns first: "Hot Cross Buns." At the end of the year, I put on my button-up shirt and clip-on tie and stood on the stage of my elementary school...