Chair: Only.

This is a wee rant about the pitfalls of parenting teenage girls so if you're sick of that sort of thing... see you next time :)

This past week, C played with the middle school honor band. It was just dandy. This doesn't really play into my post much at all but it does have something to do with the title of the post, so... yeah.

Kids (and their parents) were chatting outside of the auditorium... "who's first chair?" "what chair are you?" and I recounted the story of the first chair percussionist (not C... honor band music took a back seat to her concerto piece) who came in to the first honor band rehearsal and said to the percussionists, "I'm better than all of you." No tongue in cheek, no "haha".... no me gusta. My spunky little musician of course, said, "care to prove it?" which was met by oooh's by the rest of the percussionists, most of whom know that C packs a mighty musical wallop. No showdown ensued but C's recounting of this interaction sent me into a bizarre "wtf?" spiral that left me questioning the concept of middle school, competition, and human interaction in general.

I don't claim rationality in this (or many other parenting moments for that matter) and I've been biting my tongue as she goes through the high school registration process. You see, C is a loner. Human interaction has always been a struggle. She feels things deeply and holds her small group of friends close to her heart - conditions that are both somewhat crosswise with my concept of happiness in middle school. She doesn't always understand why a great friend of 6 months ago can so easily become a distant memory of today but here's the thing... she takes it in stride. She doesn't suffer fair weather friends gladly.

The question is, when will she find those like-minded people? Will it be high school? College, maybe? (and, at the very farthest extent of my parental neuroses.... never?)

These are all my worries, not her problem. Like I said, she seems pretty darn content. When I asked her how she felt about the whole honor band "chair" debacle, she said, "Mom, in honor band, just like in life, I'm only chair... my chair." She went on to explain that she's running her own race and doing her own thing and although she never suspected that something as simple as being herself would be so isolating, she realizes the vast majority of her fellow students' effort goes into being as much like each other as possible.

Is it too late to move into the hinterlands of Alaska somewhere and get a delivery every month or two by airdrop?

Too dramatic?

Yeah... probably.