The boy climbs into the car and nonchalantly pulls something out of his backpack.
“What’s that?”
“A recorder, dad. I play an instrument now.” He is his most matter of fact when he is proud.
On the way home he tells me everything - how to properly hold your fingers, cleaning techniques, and which holes make which notes. My questions lead to the discovery that the entire fourth and fifth grades all play recorders at the same time. I sense a concert in the air!
“There’s something like 80 recorders in the band, dad. Nothing else. Just recorders.”
“I hope there’s going to be a program,” I say. I’d like to hear that.
“A lot of people get up and leave during a recorder program,” he tells me. “That many recorders can actually hurt people’s ears. The teachers never go.”
“Who told you that?”
“The music teacher. Now, listen to this.” The last three or four miles in the car give me a taste of this fall’s upcoming musical program. My ears don’t bleed. I think I’ll be okay.