EDUCATION MATTERS:Bringing patience to the profession

It is a given in my profession that one's sanity and, ultimately, one's survival require mountains of patience, given the clientele we work with.

If awards were given in this category, I would like to submit the names of two of the most patient people I've ever known. One was my junior high school band teacher, Tom Fox, who endured six years of Kimber torment delivered by my brother Dave and myself. We were percussionists in his band and orchestra classes and pounded more on his nerves than we did on our drums. We were, to put it mildly, not the answer to this man's prayers for peace of mind.

At some point in his preparation for life, Fox decided to accept a job nurturing 50 or so young children with limited understanding of their instruments to come together and make music. His goal was to harmonize the straining and screeching of 30 violins and cellos, 20 or so squeaking clarinets and oboes, a brass section invariably too loud and percussion — always the hardest to control. Somehow he managed to coax music from that mix.

Fox had to endure a number of us kids who were more inclined to have fun than make music, especially those of us unhinged (unseated) in the percussion section. We were capable of rising to the occasion for performances, but for the rest of the year we (especially those of us who beat on drums), were his chief tormentors.

I never had a chance to say to this man how sorry I was for what I put him through. Some years ago I had the honor of meeting his mother, Dale Evans, at a wedding reception. Both she and her husband, Roy Rogers, were in attendance. I had discovered many years earlier that Fox was Dale Evans' son and seized this unique opportunity to approach them both. After telling Evans of my connection to her son, I asked if she would convey a message to him the next time she saw him and she assured me that she would.

I said, "Please tell him that the Kimber brothers are sorry. He'll know what that means."

She had a good laugh and agreed to deliver this very belated apology.

Over the years I have had a number of students (all boys) who tap out rhythms and beat incessantly on their desks and I am reminded of how annoying I once was. I want to tell my old band teacher that I have been repaid in kind for the many moments of grief I brought to him and that I extend to him now what I would not, could not give to him so many years ago — my utmost respect.