Last night I attended the Glacier Creek Middle School Band Concert. In addition to being reminded that wooden bleachers are very uncomfortable, I learned something about bandteacherspeak. When a band teacher says, "We really stretched our students with this number," what she really intends to say is "This number stinks."

At the end of an already-way-too-long concert, we were subjected to several numbers by members of the University of Wisconsin Alumni Band. The band teacher -- who bears a striking resemblance to Bobbi Mohan-Culp -- is an alum of the UW Band, and she obviously was enjoying this trip down memory lane more than anyone in the audience.

I have never been in a school band -- though I was in a pretty awesome KISS-tribute air band during my sophomore year in high school -- but I have noticed that people who play in bands often act as if they believe that those of us in the stands wish we were in the band, too. It's hard to pin down, but I get the sense that they actually think we are jealous of them. How else can you explain the Stanford Band? Anyway, last night I did my best to explain to my daughter that, though I love her dearly, my love is in no way contingent on her being a member of the band.

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