During several college summers and falls, I worked at a local high school with the marching band. I generally worked with the front ensemble or “pit,” which consisted of all the mallet instruments, synthesizers, and other auxiliary percussion. This was a lot of fun, and a lot of it was right up my alley as a percussion performance major in college. I had never played in marching band myself, but I knew and understood the instruments the kids were playing.

To be honest, though, I always felt a little bit like a fraud in this job. This was classic “imposter syndrome,” where you feel like you don’t really know what you’re doing and you’re going to be “found out” at any moment. I felt like I was teetering on the edge of that cliff the entire time I worked this school job. The kids were great, the instructors were great, and the band director was a great guy to work for. But I always felt like I wasn’t really cut out for doing...

I sat on the outside deck of a coffee shop, overlooking the Chattahoochee river near Atlanta on a perfect day in June. I was sipping probably the best frappuccino I’d ever had, and my girlfriend (now wife!) sat across from me. This was one of our favorite date spots when we were in college, and this summer afternoon was the perfect moment to drink coffee to the sounds of a river. But then I received a text that instantly reversed the carefree mood.

My wife and I were both in music school together, and our university was launching a marching band the coming fall. I had opted to stay out of marching band for a few reasons: Number one, it was a huge time commitment on weekends, and I was already a gigging drumset player at the time. I didn’t want to sacrifice my paying drumset gigs to go play in marching band. Number two, I’d never even been in marching band before. Never in high school, and I literally had zero interest. Number three, I was entering my junior year of...