Dr. Carter nodded. “That he is, but I have no doubt you’ll be able to build on what he has accomplished with our students, because what you’ve done with the jazz band is phenomenal.”
“That’s because I’m working with a group of very talented young musicians.”
“Don’t be self-deprecating, Toussaint; the kids are close to worshipping you.” He glanced at his watch. “Classes are about to change, so I’m going to let you go.”
Gage nodded, turned on his heel, and headed down the hall. He opened the door to the band room at the same time the bell rang. Within seconds the hall was filled with students pouring out of classrooms. He entered the room and draped his jacket over the back of the desk chair. Murdock had pasted on the desk a printout of the orchestra with the various sections and the names of the students and where they were seated. He studied the printout, then picked up the sheet music resting on the stand in front of a stool. A yellow Post-it was attached to a page of Dvorak’s Symphony No. 9 in E minor op. 95 “From the New World.”
Gage wrote his name on the white board, and then nodded to each student as they filed into the room. He saw surprise cross the faces of his jazz band students. It was apparent they were not prepared to see him directing the orchestra. Once all were seated and had taken out their instruments, he sat on the stool.
“For those who are not familiar with me, I’m Mr. Toussaint and I’m going to be your teacher for the rest of the school year. Unfortunately, Mr. Murdock has experienced a medical emergency. Those who are in the jazz band know me well and what I expect from them. I will have the same expectations from the orchestra.” He paused briefly. “I know the fall concert was a rousing success, but it’s usually the spring concert that is the musical highlight of the school year.
“This spring I would like to try something different, but that all depends on how hard you all are willing to work. I expect you to practice whatever we go over in class, and if called upon, you will play in front of your classmates.” Glances were exchanged amid whispers. “It’s not to put you on the spot, but for me and your peers to acknowledge your musical genius.” Laughter, high-fives, and fist bumps followed his compliment. “I’m going to give you three minutes to warm up, and then I want Mr. Santos to come up and play for us.”
A rush of color flooded the boy’s face. “I didn’t get a chance to practice it.”
“Mr. Murdock doesn’t make us play if we don’t practice,” said one of the viola players.
Gage resisted the urge to shake his head in exasperation. “Well, I’m not Mr. Murdock, and if you don’t practice at home, then you’ll practice in front of the class.” Minutes later, he beckoned to the clarinetist. “Mr. Santos, please bring your music.” The band room was so quiet he could hear breathing coming from those sitting closest to him. Gage did not want to embarrass the boy, but if he was a serious music student, then it was incumbent upon him to practice. He slipped off the stool and waited for the student to sit and arrange his music. “We’re listening, Mr. Santos.”
The first few notes came out in high-pitched squeaking until he settled down and played the piece flawlessly. There was deafening silence for several seconds before the room erupted in applause, Gage clapping along with the others. “Excellent.” The boy returned to his seat, exchanging high-fives and handshakes with his classmates.
A French horn player raised his hand. “Mr. Toussaint, may I play my solo?”
“Me, too,” came a chorus from the assembly.
The students asking to play solos meant they were confident enough to play in front of their peers. His eyes swept over their eager faces. “Okay. We’re going to begin with the violins, then the violas, and follow with the cellos and bassist. Each section will play their part, and then it will be the woodwinds’ turn, followed by brass and percussion. Once everyone has their turn, then time permitting we’ll play the entire movement.”
It had only taken one class for Gage to assess the students as quite accomplished when it came to reading and playing music. Two months before, they had performed in the winter concert, and now it was time they practice for the spring frolic, and the compositions Mr. Murdock had chosen did not match their ability to play different genres. Gage had spent years playing classical music, but it wasn’t until he was introduced to ragtime, jazz, and the blues that he felt alive, as if the music was personally talking to him.
He glanced up at the wall clock as the students packed away their instruments. There was still another three minutes before the bell rang. “Can anyone tell me what the first instrument was?”
Several hands went up. “It was the drum,” called out the percussionist.
Gage smiled. “Even before that.” He was met with silence and blank stares. “What about the voice? Did not man have the ability to sing even before the first drum was constructed?”
“Word!” yelled Mr. Santos. “I saw an a capella group competition, and they made music with their voices that sounded like instruments.”
Gage nodded. “You’re right. We’ll talk about this at the end of the next class.”
He watched the students file out of the band room as ideas in his head tumbled over one another. This was his last year teaching under the two-year grant, and he wanted to leave more of an impact on the school than just starting a jazz band. Reaching for the leather portfolio case with his initials stamped on the front cover, he opened it and took out a pen and legal pad. Fifty minutes later he had jotted down several ideas he wanted to present to the instructors chairing the drama and choral clubs.
He found Murdock’s office, opened the door, and slowly walked in. Framed posters of musicians from bygone eras to the present lined three of the four walls. Gage didn’t know why, but he felt like an intruder. The music teacher had not spent more than twenty-four hours in the hospital and already he had been replaced. It was a sobering reminder that everyone was replaceable. He stared at the photographs of Louis with his wife and children during happier times when they visited Disney World and the Grand Canyon. Gage made a mental note to call the hospital to ascertain when Murdock would be able to receive visitors.
As he had booted up the desktop and programmed a password, he reminded himself that he had to call his brother and apprise him of the change in his work schedule. Eustace had confided to him that when he had checked with his physician before embarking on an exercise regimen, the doctor ordered a battery of tests, and some of the results were not good. Not only was he overweight, but his blood pressure was elevated and his cholesterol levels were much too high. It had become a wakeup call for Eustace to change his current lifestyle. He stopped eating fried foods and decreased his sodium intake. He had sworn Gage to secrecy because he did not want his wife to know what she had suspected for years—that if he didn’t change his diet, then he was going to have either a heart attack or stroke.
Gage transcribed his notes into a memo, revising it several times before emailing to those assigned to the music and art department. Slumping back in the chair, he stared at the computer monitor, and recalled Tonya’s words:All work and no play makes for a dull boy.He did not know when she had said it how prophetic the statement would be. Gage was aware that he could have rejected the offer to become a member of the school’s faculty, but he now realized it would have a negative impact on the students if they had to wait for the district to search for, interview, and hire a replacement.
Well, Tonya, he thought,you’re right, because for the next five months it will be all about work.Not only would he work with both the orchestra and jazz band, but also plan and rehearse for the upcoming spring concert, which was coming to resemble opening day for a big Broadway play. It would involve musicians, singers, actors, and stage designers. Ruminating about the concert was not going to solve the dilemma of his going into the restaurant to prep before Eustace arrived at eight.
Reaching for his cell phone, he tapped the number to the restaurant. It rang three times before his niece answered. “Nicky, can you please put your dad on the phone?”
“Hold on, Gage, he’s right here.”
“What’s up, bro?”
It took Gage less than a minute to explain to Eustace the change in his status at the school. “I have to clock in at eight, so I’m not going to be able to cover for you the days you work out.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem now that Tonya’s here. I gave her a key and the code to the security system. I’m almost certain she wouldn’t mind coming in early, but just in case I’m being presumptuous, you should let her know why you won’t be here. Hold on, and I’ll give you her number.”
