Confessions of a Color Guard Member

By Emily Shinault, '14

     Chest out and head up, I walk onto the field, my stomach churning with the nerves I wouldn’t dare let show on my face. I and the rest of the marching band roll-step in perfect unison—or mumble “left, left, left” to those that don’t. The chatters of the crowd that fill the stands distract me from thinking through my show as I set my flags and rifle. I must dance, march, travel to each drill spot on the field, and spin and toss equipment in perfect time with my teammates, all while smiling and making it all look simple. Admittedly, I’ve never excelled at things that require, well, coordination and dexterity, but after hundreds hours of practicing with the band and countless more in my own backyard, my seven-minute show is committed to muscle memory. I head to my opening drill spot, and as captain, I nod and give a reassuring smile to the each of the girls in the guard. Still trembling with nerves, I hear the announcer’s voice reverberate throughout the stands. “Is the band ready?” As our drum major performs her salute, I clench my flag pole and take a deep breath. “Sterling High School Marching Band, you may now take the field in competition.”