There are a lot of people I admire.

I admire the Sister Theresas of the world.  It is difficult for us peons to imagine the compassion, dedication, and love for others these people possess.  Most of us are very selective with our compassion and love.  For example, I love my dog.  I’d don’t love my neighbor’s dog.

I admire great athletes.  They have taken their God-given talents and stretched their abilities in order to achieve new goals and records.  We are living in a time when this is so evident, with the Tiger Woods, the Sammy Sosas, and the Mark McGwires amongst us, legends in their own times.  They need to hang out with me.  Playing a round of golf with me would make Tiger look like a god.

I admire mothers.  They can stretch a budget, be three places at once, make boo-boos feel better, cook (well, some of them), clean, and love.  And that’s just between 5 and 6 o’clock.

I admire the great inventors.  I cannot even fathom how intelligent these guys must have been.  I mean I’m doing well to figure out how to turn on the computer, much less figure out what’s making it work.

But way, way, way above all those, I admire the junior high band director.

Those of you who have had a child in a junior high band know what I’m talking about.

I’m talking dedication, patience, nerves of steel, patience, lots of aspirin, understanding, patience, long hours, long parades, and more patience.

I went to a junior high Christmas band concert last night.  I sat there and looked at the mass of sixth-graders sitting on the stage and marveled at the fact that until a few months ago, most of them had never read music before.

The band director takes this group of already-hyperactive kids (all sixth graders are hyperactive) and puts a musical instrument in their hands.  This is like adding fuel to the fire.

The first sounds that come out of these various gadgets is ghastly.  I have lived through several kids’ practicing at home, which led to dreams of padding their rooms with soundproofing.  I cannot imagine being in the same room with forty of them at once.

By Christmas, this saint has taken this musically illiterate beings and transformed them into a group that actually plays the same song at the same time.  No, it’s not the New York Philharmonic, but it’s pretty darn good considering what she had to work with.

God bless the junior high band director.  We took a poll among the parents … you couldn’t pay any of us enough money to do what she does.

I’ll stick with being a mom.