The Case of the Missing Reed

Nicholas scooted into the band room seconds before the final bell. He hadn’t intended to be tardy, as he wanted the extra time to switch gears in his thinking from schoolwork to the upcoming band festival. It would have been helpful to have a few minutes to review the music before rehearsal, as well. After opening his clarinet case, he reached for his reed guard to take out a new reed for the instrument.

“What? Where are my reeds?” Sheets of music scattered as Nicholas frantically searched the case. The reeds were nowhere to be found. He calmed down enough to quickly assemble the clarinet and check to see if he had a reed in place from the previous practice. Nicholas sighed with relief at the sight of the slim, light-colored piece of wood held in place on the mouthpiece with the ligature, or clamp. Upon looking closely, he realized the reed was split, and now he had no way to replace it.

Nicholas began to panic, the festival was tomorrow, and he wanted to keep his first-chair position.

“Mr. Lehman, have you seen my reed guard?” With effort, Nicholas kept his tone even and his voice calm. “It’s not in my case, and the reed I have is split.”

Mr. Lehman looked up from arranging music on his director’s stand. “Did you have it yesterday?”

At the risk of having it sound like a lame excuse, Nicholas said, “Yes. It just disappeared.”

Looking out over the gathering band students, Mr. Lehman posed the question to the class, asking also if anyone had a reed Nicholas could use for rehearsal.

“I’ll look at home, sir, just in case,” Nicholas assured his instructor. There had to be some explanation; he was conscientious with his band equipment.