Trombone Suicide

The First Little Traveller has just started Grade 6. She has entered the world of Middle School and life as we know it has changed. It appears there are some new rules. She now enters through a new gate, eats with the bigger kids in the Cafeteria and wears lipgloss (I’m choosing my battles people, it could be fishnets and a boob tube).

In the old days (as in 4 months ago), the 4 Little Travellers and I would arrive at school and exit the car together. It appears those days are over. I am now instructed to do a drive by drop off, I watch the First Little Traveller exit the car with the precision and speed of a experienced solider parachuting from a chopper. The backpack is strapped and before the car can even roll to a final halt she has jumped. A quick “bye Mum” but no kisses, no looking back. I gather that Mothers at School Drop off are about as cool as ringworms and floral underwear.

Life in Middle School means text books, switching classes, different teachers and rolling timetables. She now has a “home room” and she has choices. She chose French rather than Arabic or Spanish. She chose Band rather than Choir.

When it came time to choose her instrument, I was secretly hoping for Flute or Clarinet. Okay, it wasn’t a secret at all, I said my choices out loud, this was my first mistake. If there is anything I am learning about tweenhood, it is that my choices are both uncool and unnecessary.

She chose the Trombone.

I remarked on Facebook that my child had chosen an instrument that resembled one long continuous fart and after an hour of “practice” I was in need of a rather large glass of Gin. Someone reminded me that it could have been worse, it could have been the French Horn. So true.

Over the weekend the First Little Traveller explained her choice to me. The music teacher had told her that many of the girl’s Mothers usually chose the Flute because it was pretty, or a “girls” instrument. I assured her that I was thinking more of how much easier the Flute was to transport. And, that the Flute didn’t sound like one continuous fart. She giggled and said “it’ll be cool Mum, wait and see, Trombone can be really cool.”

A girlfriend of mine who’s currently based in Houston reminded this morning of the “Trombone Suicide”, she’d been to a High School Football match over the weekend and remarked on how “visually exciting” the music had been. I immediately googled. She was right.

Things have changed. As 3 of the Little Travellers and I make our way through the school gates, I am forced to watch the First Little Traveller heading in a different direction, making her way on her own. She’s making choices and it appears they’re not going to be the “girly” ones. She’s making the big brassy choices. I love it.

I just need a little bit more time to get used to watching from the sidelines.

Here’s the Trombone Suicide done by Colorado State University or (CSU).


Any interesting musical choices at your house?

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