Leading from the Front
🌺 Part of the Essays series
“Leave no stone unturned,” my band director said as I sat in his office, going over some band work.
I was auditioning for drum major at Colorado State University.
I hadn’t been a drum major in high school.
That felt like a big gap.
I took that seriously.
And I continued to prepare.
To me, leaving no stone unturned meant becoming singularly focused on this one moment.
I practiced my conducting in the mirror.
I listened to recordings in the car.
I practiced marching commands.
I thought through the interview questions.
When I answered, I kept it simple and honest:
I wanted to be drum major because, as a music student, I wanted the conducting experience.
I had already been the sousaphone section leader for three years, so I was familiar with leadership—but this felt different.
There were thirteen candidates.
I walked into the audition ready.
She bounded up the stairs to give me the news.
I was a drum major.
And then—no transition, no easing in—
she led me straight down to the front of the pep band.
And just like that,
I became a drum major.
What kind of leader was I?
My favorite part of being drum major was getting to know the band members.
I spent a few summers at Preview orientation, standing at the marching band booth—behind the presentation board I had designed.
For a lot of people, I was the first person they met at Colorado State University.
I took photos throughout the year and turned them into the end-of-year slideshow.
I made a photo directory, organized by instrument, so the director could learn everyone’s names.
The benefit of doing that project was that I naturally learned all 208 band members’ names.
I wanted people to feel seen.
And don’t get me wrong—
I loved conducting.
The precision of tempo.
Asking the band to respond to what I gave them.
Feeling it come back.
There’s something about that kind of control—
it can enlarge the ego.
Basketball band was my favorite—more opportunity to engage the crowd and help get the W.
At the conference tournament, a fan once said,
“You won that game for them.”
I remember that.
I didn’t start as the obvious choice.
But I had learned how to prepare.
How to pay attention.
How to show up for people.
And somewhere along the way, I stopped trying to become a drum major—
and became someone who could lead.