Once I had a band director who went to bat for me in a huge way. The oppressive church culture and institutional religious boogeyman had put me on trial for trivial appearances and related absurdities.
Blane Hinton* was my Atticus Finch.
When I was 17 and living with my parents in Texas, I chose to attend a small, church run Christian university from the tribe I worshipped with growing up. The best decisions are not always made at 17. But you have to start somewhere.
Music was the only thing that I was remotely passionate about. If I had a few more ounces of confidence and a solid support system back home, I might have fared better had I moved to a live music market such as Austin or Denton, and joined a band. But instead, I played it safe and moved to Abilene. I ended up pursuing and abandoning Music Education all within a five year degree.
The music degree path didn’t originally have any career horizons for a guy such as myself. Composition ignited me and I fantasized about being a film composer. But my professors were steering me into the direction of “Brian, you may want to have a pay check someday”. So Music Education became my major. As in, become a school band/music teacher.
Never mind my introverted personality. And today, I’m 100% convinced that every school teacher must have some degree of extrovert-ness. But I don’t blame them. My professors were just doing their job. And I was somewhat outgoing in my younger days. Introversion, like all things, grows worse with age.
Even then I could see that working in a school environment was not meant for me. This became clear one semester prior to my teacher training, aka “student teaching”. But this late in the higher education game, I just wanted to complete this degree and move on. Completion. I do have that level of non-flakiness in my DNA.
The University music department was always wonderful to me. Like a big extended, nerdy family. We watched each other’s backs and made stupid jokes in the process.
Conversely, the University’s Education department was stuffy, line-toeing, and joyless.
I had to take a few classes in the Education Department. I never liked them. All of these classes were painful. Very square-peg/round-hole-ish.
When we started getting assigned to various public school classrooms, I started getting phone calls from Education professors about my hair length and appearance.
I had been a long-haired hippie wannabe since I started University. Big deal. But it was the tail end of the 1980s in conservative West Texas. So, it might as well have been the 1950s, except with black classmates**.
Prior to my Student Teaching assignment, I had visited the principals of all three schools that I would be working in. I specifically asked if my hair length would be an issue for them. All three Principals were fine with it. The band directors of these three schools had known me for years through various music outlets, as did many of their students. I was nothing new to any of them.
The Chair of the education department called me in for a meeting over my hair length. He didn’t want a hippie representing the University or his department. Dr. Tackman*** had a list of reasons for me to visit a barber, none of which could hold water, or have a heart for that matter. He said the school principals wanted me to look clean cut.
“But I had already talked to all three of them and they said it was fine.”
I guess university department chairs don’t like their lies being exposed. And I was too young and naive to know not to expose it. That’s when the war started.
Various threats of not letting me Student Teach, thus not graduating three months later became the fuel for much anxiety and stress, in addition to my Senior Horn recital and an ill relationship I was sucked into (a different story entirely). I seem to remember a family member of mine throwing around the idea of legal action. But that may have been a fantasy I made up. I can’t remember.
Mr. Hinton was my new advisor in the Music Department. We never had much interaction prior. He was a low brass instructor (I played French Horn…high brass). He was the Assistant Band Director, mostly in charge of the Marching Band. I tolerated Marching Band. It was a necessary evil for my music degree. But I was super thankful Mr. Hinton was my advisor. He seemed to care.
When Hinton finally heard of this debacle, I believe he said something like, “I’ll take care of this”.
Hinton and Tackman had some kind of knock-down, drag-out argument over me and my Student Teaching. Legend has it that this was an all-out cussing-fest. That’s a serious deal in the church culture. Or in the West Texas culture. If I could have been a fly on any wall in my life, Tackman’s office that day would be the wall I’d pick.
Somehow, all was relieved. I was allowed to continue with Student Teaching an on to Graduation that Spring.
Mr. Hinton went on to become Head Band Director for a few years, before falling off the map and disappearing entirely. Rumors swirled that he went through a divorce and later worked with his brother running a family construction company in a different state. Hinton reemerged a decade later as a band director of a large Texas High School, but has since gone back into hiding. I’ve always admired people who avoided predictable lives.
I have no desire to disturb you Mr. Blane Hinton. But wherever you are…many belated thanks for defending me against the soul-crushing religious machine.
Much appreciation to Mr. Hinton. I confess I did not show enough appreciation back in the day.
He was my high school band director in the late 80's - early 90's. We won the 3A state marching championship my senior year (fall of 1990), and I graduated in 91 from Brownfield. I think he left shortly after that. Saw that he was at Victoria West for awhile, then Allen, and not sure what he's doing now.