Student story-For Those About to Rock...I Salute You

A rock tribz to one lady living on the edge, and being real hxc.


By Hailey Lapin
Big sexy hair. Ray Ban sunglass. Gymnastics. Ice Cream. Rock ’n’ roll.

There’s a good amount of head banging and an equally large amount of screaming teenage girls. This is no Camp Rock Jam Session, there’s no Jonas Brothers, but for adviser Erin Leavey this Flint Hills Publication Workshop Rock Band Competition might as well be the big time. It’s all about the costuming, the presentation and the pursuit of the human spirit. So it’s legit. Naturally.

Leavey’s eccentric personality and punk rock pink lowlights scream a charisma and energy unusual for a standard newspaper adviser, but Leavey is far from ordinary.

Leavey does not believe in the necessity for a teacher to be “boring.” Sticking to the status quo is “lamesauce.”

“I dyed my hair pink during the summer as an expression of anti-teacher rebellion,” Leavey explains in complete seriousness. “There’s a stereotype of teachers needing to live in a box, and that’s just not who I am. I don’t live my life that way. I’m the cat kicking and screaming out the door.”

Right. Whatever that means.

She enjoys the good things in life — her five dogs, Harry Potter, tattooing, long walks on the beach. After turning off “So You Think You Can Dance,” she pulls out “Pride and Prejudice and Zombies,” a creative interpretation of the literary classic by Jane Austen. She’s booking a New York trip in the fall, and she battles her students on Xbox Live. Oh, and she’s fluent in Rock Band — preordered before it came on the market.

Leavey is all by herself at the Flint Fills JCamp, but she’s pumped to learn all she can about being a newspaper adviser and bring her new skillz back home. More than 1,500 miles from home, she’s ready to show the Sunflower State how Rock Band goes at Centennial High School in Corona, Calif.

This video game isn’t just about showing off or getting the highest score. For Leavey, it’s about keeping an image, about maintaining her street cred.

“I don’t play games. I don’t mess with fate,” she adds, her tone biting with fervent sarcasm. “Winning this tournament separates the champions from the posers. Winning Rock Band (tonight) is everything. It’s a metaphor. A metaphor for life. Understand?”

Slow down Rhetorical Reagan, not everyone is following you. Dressed casually in jeans and Nike Shoxs, Leavey chats openly at dinner Monday night about her tattoos and her chill minimalist rocker lock.

Out of nowhere, she gives a high five for the English vocab. Her seniors would like that. For Leavey, everything is a show. “Fo sho.”

A self-described “high school drama/band/choir nerd,” performing and the love of music are not new concepts for Leavey. Her iPod library ranges from show tunes to T.I. to Tim McGraw to Heart, and she thinks nothing of it. She describes how she played Coach Darbus in a production of “High School Musical.” Her students can friend her on Myspace (but not Facebook). Oh, and she raps on YouTube (Seriously, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ewSKYVXUpDo).

Game time

Got the Look? Check. Got the Skillz? Double Check. Got a Name? No problem.

After discussing possible American Literature influences with Camp Director Linda Puntney, Leavey and band mate Jessica Rickard set their match with destiny under a new title: Helvetica Bold. Bowing down in a popularity contest only to Times New Roman — this title accurately matches Leavey’s confident strut. The no serif makes them even more hard-core. Intimidation Factor? Oh yeah.

In the ballroom, students make sundaes and gossip about royalty nominees, but Leavey can smell their fear. She stands in the corner with her arms crossed at the start of the contest, saying little. Her eyes fill with apprehension as she searches the crowd for possible competition. The lights dim, the crowd hushes, and the battle is on.

One, Two, Three,
Take my hand and come with me,
Because you look so fine,
That I really want to make you mine.

“Jet. How original,” Leavey whispers to Rickard. Despite the asides, The music always finds a way of hitting her. Leavey smiles at the energetic students’ attempt, her black Ed Hardy sneakers tapping with the rhythm.

Said you look so fine,
That I really want to make you mine.

Leavey’s smile grows, and she begins to sing along under her breath.

Four, Five, Six,
Come on and get you're kicks,
Now you don't need money when you look like that,
Do you honey?

The song finishes and she claps (to be polite), and she watches bands come and go. “Some,” she says “are legitimate competition.” Tom Tom and the Navigators were pretty solid with lots of swooning girls, but Leavey is confident.

“Seriously, it’s against the demographics of this camp for there to be that many boys together, and they need a ‘warm-up round?’” she says. “Seriously. Go big or go home.”

Leavey mutters for all who can hear. She can’t deal with mediocrity. She’s a Rock Band virtuoso — on medium.

Helvetica Bold

The moment of truth arrives and Leavey gathers the troops, crossing the dance floor with a swagger that would put Kayne to shame, and takes a seat at the throne of rock glory. A plastic drum set.

Her bandmates? Camp instructor Jake Palenske picks up the guitar as Rickard clears her throat to sing. Kapaun Mt. Carmel Senior Juan Salogado is freelancing after a turn with the Tom Toms. He dons aviators and smoothly prepares the bass.

Leavey lightly bites her lip as she nervously scrolls through the set list. Hours of mental and physical preparation have trained her for this moment.

The song has to be perfect for the band’s debut. She wipes a bead of sweat off her forehead and takes a deep sigh. Stone Temple Pilot’s Vasoline? Sure. It’s on.

At the push of a button, the opening chords ring out strong and true, and Leavey is right there with the beat.

Green.
Yellow.
Red/Yellow.
Red/Yellow.
Yellow.
Red.

It’s simple enough. She pictures the dejected faces of the high school posers as she wins the acclaimed Rock Band title. Who does she care? They aren’t her kids.

Within 10 seconds, Leavey’s luck goes from the “Stairway to Heaven” to the “Hell Song” (that’s Slum 41 people). Apparently her team is not as good as she thought. Red warning lights flash everywhere as her carefully fed and maintained Rock Band begins to crumble beneath her. Then, as quick as lighting, the screen of failure pops up. This joy ride is over.

Rickard begins to have a diva fit. She didn’t even get to sing. Palenske silently hangs up his guitar and walks away in shame. Salodago begins to laugh. The judges look away in shock, their mouths hanging open.

“You know, they had a chance to be really good,” whispers Judge Puntney with a low whistle. “I thought they were really going to get somewhere. It’s a shame to see such potential go to such waste.”

For Leavey? She sits dejected, but sheds no tears. It’s a hard life out there for a G, and there’s no time to be sad. She has her dignity to maintain. All she can do is build from here. Suddenly her head snaps to the left — “You’re fired,” she shoots at Juan. Her eyes roll.

Hard core.

Hailey Lapin is a senior at Blue Valley Northwest High School and a student in the advanced writers class.


RELATED CONTENT: Erin Leavey's YouTube rap