The end of the school year means that most students put away their band instruments until next fall.

At least, that’s the way it used to be when I went to school.

Now, there are band camps, music festivals and small town parades that take place during the summer.

It got me to thinking about playing cornet in our middle school and high school bands for six years.

While I enjoyed playing sports and being in band, I had totally different outlooks on both. That’s because sports came easily to me and band didn’t come to me at all.

I loved being part of the band. I think I’m fairly musical. But you’d never know it from listening to me play trumpet during those six years.

Band was humbling. Band made me work harder. Band scared me like no other extra-curricular activity – especially the days when we had “challenges” to win a new chair.

When you sat first chair, you were the best. My two sisters both sat first chair when they played the flute. My brother sat first chair when he played the baritone. I was on Cloud Nine the one time in my life I won a challenge to be part of the second section, which was about chair No. 5.

So imagine my interest a couple months ago when I went to a middle school band concert and happened to ask our young friend afterward what “chair” he was.

I thought band students were ranked by chair the way we used to be. Maybe some of them still are. But not at the school I was at.

The student told me they didn’t have chairs. Apparently, the prevailing philosophy at this school is that “human beings don’t always appreciate being told that they aren’t performing as well as others… many students tend to feel less valuable if they aren’t first chair.”

It appears to be part of a notion that to build a child’s self-confidence, you offer a “good job” pat on the head for whatever they do, even if it was not a good job. And now this school had no chairs in the band to help students avoid feeling bad about not being very good on their instruments.

But the truth is, the world is based on “chairs.” The sooner you learn to work hard and earn a promotion or a new “chair,” the sooner you learn about life in the real world.

Failing is part of life. I remember losing many band challenges. It didn’t destroy my self confidence. It made me want to work harder and get better.

I never did get much better in band. But I learned from my mistakes. And I also learned that nothing is given to you without working for it.

Somehow, those of us who grew up learning the lesson of the “chair” system got along just fine in life.

In fact, it’s one of the best lessons I’ve ever learned.