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: I first read Ayn Rand's "Atlas Shrugged" in early High School. Ever since then, I have often pondered her thoughts and deas as I attempted to drift off to sleep each night. Her ideas were amazing to me. I always thought to myself, 'Ayn Rand's ideas are correct, but exaggerated. I have never seen anybody support and encourage mediocrity, I and probably never will.' I should have knocked on wood. All that I can think of to say now is Why? That is the only word to explain everything that I feel as I sit here with tears threatening to slide down my cheeks. Why? Let me explain how it all started. I was in eleventh grade and a band nerd who played the French horn. A new band director was slated to arrive that year, since the former band director had just retired. I was excited to meet the new director. From the moment I first saw the man, I knew that he was special. He held a kind of light within, that seemed just ready to burst forth with pion for what he was doing. I had always thought that I was a hard worker, but compared to him, I was a slacker. I became his teacher's aide, because anything at all that I could do to help him, I would gladly have done without question. I found myself rushing after school was out, during impromptu study halls and after quickly finished tests to go and help him out. The band director worked all day. I watched as he forgot meals, and had scant sleep at night from being too busy. As I noticed his narrow focus on work, I eventually ordered him to eat lunch while I offered to teach a few lessons so he could do so. I watched as the band program flourished. The band size doubled, and the music grew more and more challenging. I began to realize that I was beginning to play well, and had some talent! He inspired me to take a br quintet, a French horn trio, and a French horn solo to contest. I was well received. The judge of my br quintet was so interested in us that he spent extra time learning our names and trying to recruit us to his college as music majors. I was happy. Life was good. I practically lived in the band room with the new band director. The next year though, was bad. I had always noticed an odd sort of feeling around the High school principal. I never knew what it was, and ignored the shivers she caused up and down my spine. I just figured that it was just because she was a figure of authority. That umption came back later to haunt me. During my senior year of High school, things were different. I once again was a teacher's aide for the band director, and worked my off. The concerts were phenomenal. Yet there was a shadow looming over the band program. The band director found himself in trouble with the principal for little things like forgetting to ask her permission to hang a poster advertising the upcoming band concert, or for thinking up a plan to try to get the band to tour in Florida, or for asking the wrong person on the faculty if he could paint a red stripe across the band room to make the room have the school colors in it. With these grievances and other of unknown status to the citizens of the surrounding community, the principal called a school board meeting. She was going to fire the band director. One of the janitors heard the principal speaking, and rushed to tell teh community. Within two hours I had heard the bad news, and organized a comity to put up posters all around town. A petition was written, and band members flew all over town getting signatures. I went to school early the next day, and put stickers on all the lockers that said "Save Music". The town knew. At the school board meeting, the crowd of onlookers didn't fit into the room, they filled the entire hallway as well. The principal didn't even have the courtasy to move the meeting to a larger room. A small band ensemble that I conducted secretly struck up the star spangled banner before the meeting began. The press hovered admist the crowd, microphones ready. I was there, close to the front, and watching the pale band director sitting as if waiting to be gutted and torn into a billion pieces...but indeed, that was what happened. The meeting began, and as soon as the release of the band director was brought up, the crowd roared. The school board voted four to two in favor of firing him. I felt my heart sink. I wanted to scream. Someone did for me. Children cried. Angry parents fought to make their way to the microphones that the press had yanked away from the school board members and thrust into the crowd. Angry words were shouted. Hearts were broken. I shamelessly cried and begged the school board to reconsider. The crowd began to chant "Recall the Vote"...but to no avail. Somewhere in all that chaos, the band director had snuck out. The police were called in, and everything quieted down except for those weeping with sadness. I cried on the shouler of an adult who kept whispering to me between strangled sobs that she regrets ever having become an adult, and told me to stay young and innocent...but I was no longer innocent. All I could say was Why? When a new band director was hired the next year, and the band size went down, and the level of challenging music went down, and the amount of students going to contest went down, all I could think of was Why? That night I realized that the principal supported and encouraged mediocrity. I was sad for a long time, but then it was time for college to begin. My major: music education. My goal: become a band director. I thought to myslef, 'not all people support and encourage mediocrity. I will find a good .' The college I chose to go to was because of its band director. The band director there reminded me of my high school band director. She was amazing. I found myself going to her often to find support as I worked through tough cles, or to receive praise for the times I excelled in cles. She also happened to be my French horn professor. I found my knowledge and skill with the french horn flourishing. I loved college. I mad great friends, got a that I loved, and joined a karate cl. I based my life around these things and lived each moment with a grin on my face...the past forgotten. Too bad I was going to be reminded of that fateful night once again. As the days wore on, I notcied some strange shadows in the music department. Muttered words and sly glances were exchanged between four of the music faculty members. Before I knew what was happening, I was told that my college band director/french horn professor was being forced to resign from her position. She was being fired. Dejavu. I couldn't think. For two weeks, I just sat blankly. I didn't fight for her. I knew it was useless. I just sat in despair and cried. All I could say to people was Why? The weeks wore on, and soon applicants for the position arrived to conduct the band. After the first applicant, I ran back to my dorm room and cried bitterly. The woman was horrid. She could not conduct worth s. She had no emotion in her conducting. I even got lost trying to follow her conducting beats on a piece I had played many times before. When I was allowed to ask her a question during her interview, I asked what hew worst quality as a conductor was. She answered that her worst quality was 'not being able to spend time studying the score.' Just great. A conductor who doesn't even know how to conduct or study a score. The next applicant was better though. I went back to my dorm room and slept snuggly with happy thoughts. He had been great. The third applicant was also great. They had both come up with great and interesting ways to recruit and build up the band program. They were also easy to talk to, and had that light within them that looked like they had pion for what they were doing. The fourth recruit wasn't so bad either, and I thought to myself 'maybe this won't be so bad, three out of four were great.' But what do you think that a music faculty that fires a perfectly good band director would do? Of course. They hired the first applicant, the one that I hated. The college music faculty supports mediocrity. Now I have to leave my friends, my , and my karate cl. I must leave and search for a band director who has that beacon of light within them that holds their pion for what they do. But then I think to myself, 'Why should I even bother. Everybody supports mediocrity. Ayn Rand was right.' I feel so alone, yet I keep going, and I keep working hard, and I ask myself 'Why?' every single day. Why do people in this world support and encourage mediocrity? Why? WHY?...

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