"So, as most of you know, my name is Taylor. And writing this
speech was really hard for me. I don’t feel like I’m very good with words, at
least not writing them, and I don’t really like to get up and talk about
myself. I knew that I could get up, and tell you that I was born on March 22,
1995…that my parents are Bryan and Aimee Hockman, and that my little brother’s
name is Gabe.
These are all true, and very important facts about me. But
I’d rather talk about a memory that’s been weighing on my heart and mind the
last couple of days. It’s a lesson that I learned a few years ago that means a
lot to me, and I’d like to share it, so I’ll start with the back story…
When I was in 5th grade, I went to a Barlow Girl
concert. I was completely awestruck by how cool I thought they were. I was
especially enthralled by the drummer. I decided then and there that someday, I
would be a drummer. The only problem with that was that, in Bowling Green, you
start band in the 6th grade. And I went to a private elementary
school that was too small to have a band.
I wasn’t ready to let go of my dream of becoming a drummer,
though, so when middle school came around, I asked to be put in band. One the
first day of school, when I came into band class, my band director told me I
was going to be playing the bells. I hated it. A lot. I had to watch all the
other people in my section get to play the drums, while I was stuck on this
thing I didn’t want to play. So I basically refused to learn or even try to
play it.
Over time, band became just a class that I had to go to, and
it was my least favorite part of my day.
I continued to do band all through middle school, fully
intending to quit when I got to high school. But, for whatever reason, when the
day of marching band sign ups came, I found myself checking the little “Yes”
box.
When I showed up for the first day of band camp, I found out
that I was in something called front ensemble and, horror of horrors, I would
be playing the bells. Needless to say, I was bitter, and starting to doubt that
my dream of ever becoming a drummer would ever come true. And, since I’d
basically refused to play or even try to learn in middle school, I was
terrible. But, over time, as I learned more, I began to fall in love with
melodic percussion.
When sophomore year rolled around, I got put on bells again.
But, this time I wasn’t so upset about it. But, I still wasn’t very good. When
it came time for indoor drumline, I was the only one from my high school’s
percussion section that signed up to do front ensemble. Eventually, after the
process of try outs was over, I was told I’d be playing marimba. I don’t really
know how to compare marimba and bells, but I’ll tell you this: it was hard, and
I thought I was in way over my head.
I remember going home after practice mentally, physically,
emotionally exhausted. I was trying so hard that it was draining me. I remember
crying to my mom about how bad my hands hurt, and how overwhelmed I felt by all
of it. I remember so clearly the day she sat me down and said “Listen to me.
You can do it. You just have to take it one note at a time.” At the time, I
thought it was a flippant suggestion, so I just brushed it off. But I never
told her how many times her words came back to me. Not only over the course of
that season, but the rest of my life as well.
I eventually learned every single note of that show, and I
tried my best to play it well. That season, and all the music seasons that
followed, taught me something about myself that I’ve tried to remember whenever
my life has been difficult, or I’ve gone through trying times.
What I learned was this: I don’t like to give up. I’m a
fighter. When I’m faced with a challenge, or even when I just feel like someone
doesn’t believe in me, I’m immediately obsessed with proving to myself, and
everyone else, that I can do whatever it is. That I can conquer whatever is set
before me.
That revelation has been incredibly helpful over the last 3
years, through the trials of growing up, moving out, leaving all my friends and
family, and coming to AIM. It’s super comforting, knowing that I can overcome
anything that’s hard for me, as long as I take it one step—one note—at a time."
