Tara Chit
Quartermaster of Questband
It feels strange to put that into words. For years, the band room was like a second home. It was the place where my day both started and ended. It was filled with music, laughter, frustration, hope, and the people who have become some of my closest friends. Now, with graduation just around the corner, I find myself holding onto those memories a little tighter, trying to remember every detail—every note, every face, every feeling. The feeling of performing on stage is one that I will never, and could never, forget.
The SYF journey was never just about one performance. It was the culmination of months of growth, setbacks, breakthroughs, and resilience. I still remember our first few practices when we received the SYF pieces. They looked intimidating. I remember specifically struggling with certain parts, as I was the only first trumpet playing. So many notes, such technical challenges, so much musicality required. I felt overwhelmed. But as with everything in band, we took it one rehearsal at a time. One mistake at a time. One encouragement at a time.
There were days when we left the band room exhausted, our minds drained. But somehow, I always came back. Every time I entered that room, I was reminded of why I loved being there: the sense of purpose, the sound of progress, the feeling of belonging. There is nothing quite like knowing that you are a small but essential part of something bigger than yourself. Every note you play matters. Someone beside you is counting on you, and you are counting on them too. It’s amazing how much teamwork and trust are built into just these two pieces that our instructor drilled into us repeatedly.
SYF day itself is still a blur in my mind—a blur of nerves, adrenaline, and unspoken trust. Funnily enough, I remember telling my friends how nervous I was before stepping into the tuning room. It is strange to think that I may never step foot into that room again. I remember the hush, the quiet exchanges of “good luck” and “you got this.” I remember the way we stood in formation, hearts pounding, before stepping onto that stage. The moment I was there, with the crowd, the judges, and the lights, everything felt so overwhelming. But once we stepped onto the stage, it felt as if time stood still. That moment still feels surreal. When my instructor walked onto the podium, I felt the hush of the crowd. Then the music took over. We didn’t speak, but we understood each other completely. We breathed together. We moved together. We were the music.
Those few minutes on stage passed quickly, but they carried nearly six months of effort, countless sacrifices, and every ounce of heart we had to give. When we played our final note, I felt something shift—a kind of quiet knowing that this was the last time I would ever perform with this band, with these people, in this chapter of my life. It was the last time I would ever step onto that very stage.
Through SYF and all my years in band, I have learned more than just musicianship. I have learned discipline, the kind that keeps you going even when it’s hard. I have learned patience, both with myself and with others. I have learned how to lead, how to follow, and how to listen. Not just to the music, but to the people around me. Most of all, I have learned how powerful it is to believe in something with all your heart.
There is so much I will miss. I will miss the familiar chaos before rehearsal: the clatter of stands and chairs, the frantic hunt for a tuner. I will miss the breaks and the funny little warm-up rituals we each had. I will miss the moments when we all nailed a difficult section and looked at each other like, “We actually did that.” I will even miss the times we got scolded by our instructor, because it meant someone cared enough to push us to be better.
Band was never just a CCA to me. It became part of my identity. Letting go of that is hard.
I want to say the deepest thank you to the people who made this journey not only possible, but unforgettable. To Mr Jack Lim, our instructor, thank you for your unwavering belief in us, your patience, and the way you pushed us to reach beyond what we thought we were capable of. Your passion for music and your dedication to us shaped not just our performance, but who we are as individuals. To our teachers-in-charge, thank you for your constant encouragement, your tireless support behind the scenes, and for always being there. Whether it was making sure we had everything we needed or simply checking in on us when we were tired or discouraged, you gave us a space where we could grow, challenge ourselves, and build something beautiful together. We could not have done it without you. You are, and always will be, Questband’s number one fan, always believing in us and cheering us on.
To my juniors: take care of this band. Treasure it. Some days will be hard. Some days you will feel like it is not worth it. But I promise you, it is. Every drop of sweat, every wrong note, every moment of frustration—it all leads to something greater. One day, you will be in my shoes, looking back with a full heart, and you will realise just how lucky you were to be part of something like this.
To my cohort, thank you. We grew up together in this band. From awkward Secondary Ones who couldn’t play a scale properly to seniors leading warm-ups and helping juniors through tough parts, we’ve come so far. Thank you for the memories, the laughter, and the countless hours spent chasing something beautiful together. I would not trade this journey for anything.
SYF may be over, but the music and everything it gave me will stay with me for the rest of my life.
This is not just a goodbye. It is a thank you and a promise to carry everything I have learned here, always.
With passion, we can succeed!