Plopping down on the metal bleachers in a crisp new colorguard uniform, you prepare yourself for another night of cheering, screaming, and red and blue war paint. Glancing over at the hundreds of people in the stands next to you, you revel in the school pride and spirit shown at the games and at the fact that you get to be a part of it every weekend.

Listening to the rowdy shouts and chants from the Bleacher Creatures, you try to focus on the game and on what the band will play next.   Cheering for your favorite players, and discussing the game with your teammates, you make sure to uphold the respectable and polite standards that come with being in the Marching Band. Sitting in the band designated section, a part of you wishes you could walk in with a painted face and an air horn, cheering on your friends with no rules or cares. But you remember how much being in marching band really means to you, and the fun you have. Being thankful for the respectful, polite, and friendly atmosphere, you smile and enjoy the game.

Soon enough, the heavily anticipated half time rolls around. Getting ready to perform in front of all your peers and classmates, your heart races with excitement and anticipation. Taking the field and running the routine you have practiced for seemingly countless hours, in front of your friends and classmates. You wish they were quiet in the stands just for those few minutes. You wish they would all take a minute to just stop and appreciate the hard work you put into the show. While there are those who do pause a minute to watch, you know that halftime means more to you and the band than to any spectator or player.

Being a part of the band program is something that fills you with unexplainable pride, and you get such a sense of responsible about what it means to be a part of something much bigger than yourself, that helps to really make your 4 years at twp something worthwhile.

Playing the alma mater in honor of a great first game, you left the stands with an elated rush of excitement and hope for the season to come. Listening to the cadence of the drumline at the end of the game, and marching along with your best friends back to the band room while everyone in the stadium clears a path, you get a feeling unlike anything you have ever felt, like a rush of cool air or those all too familiar butterflies in your stomach, something you want to relive over and over, and you do, every week.