boys and bands

The bell rings. Five minutes later, a pack of boys – normally so demure in their school ties and blazers – swarm in, ratty-looking in their jeans and hoodies. The forty desks in the classroom are pushed to the wall. From the PE storage room a drum set is dragged into the corner next to the window. The snare sits on a wooden chair, the bass is stuffed with what looks like dirty laundry – but I know it to once have hung over a classroom window. They play musical chairs with their instruments: the lead guitarist switches to drum set at the break, he sings as he bangs out some simple chords on the keyboard. They are kings of improvisation. The microphone couldn’t be found, so he’s singing into a set of headphones plugged into one of the amps. Who even knew that headphones would do that?? I didn’t.

Then there’s the flute. It’s a rock band, no mistakes. But one of the kids always has a flute in his pocket, ready for a trill between classes. Someone offers me a swig of coke. The first swig of the one liter bottle that will get them through rehearsal. There's something gentlemanly about this gesture that makes me smile, but I decline.

This could have been my high school. This could have been Matt, or Farah, or Mike or Jake. But it’s five years later, in another hemisphere, another language. Still, it’s kind of just, well…the same.

I take that back. The hair is different. The boys with curly hair all have one tendril, by their ear, slightly longer than the rest. Only slightly – I’m just noticing the pattern.

What happened to the Farahs and Mikes in my life? In university you have to be good to be listened to. The simplicity, the informality of high school is gone. No more lunch breaks in Block’s room, or class trips, or talent shows for parents and friends. It’s too bad, really. I miss this.

It falls apart when the headphones slide off the vocalist’s face and snap around his neck. A teacher arrives to caution them about the noise. They chortle, someone throws a towel over the snare and the music continues…


An average Friday night at school. Plugged in outside the cafeteria, after being kicked out of all the other buildlings.