Kelsie Thomas

I’m realizing, reading the outpouring of posts on social media, that I didn’t get to know you that well. Yeah, you taught me for two years, but we didn’t really interact beyond that context. I still have a gift that I made for you when I graduated! I didn’t trust Nathan to bring it to you, as it’s rather fragile: it’s a dragon that leans upside-down against a wall in a handstand, just like you would do at winterguard practice. Naturally, it’s purple (that’s why I went around asking everyone’s favorite color!). I’ll keep it safe, somewhere I can see it and remember.

I was so spoiled at Lassiter with you and Nathan. Since I came to Tech I’ve experienced four different instructors and I’ve realized how much of your kindness and sensibility I took for granted. Okay, so maybe you’d yell across the field that you’d punch me in the throat if I was late to that count again, but I didn’t fix it because I was scared. I didn’t want to let you down. I can still remember so poignantly after the junior guard showcase senior year when I asked you to show me peggy spins and you explained them to me so patiently, even when I kept messing them up! Or massaging my ankle after I turned it in warmup for a winter show, showing me exactly what I needed to do in the future too. I still do that, just like I still have someone push my knees together before I attempt the splits, and I still use all the fundamentals you taught me. I wish you could see me now; I’ve continue to improve each year and I credit you with so much of it. I never would have kept spinning if you hadn’t encouraged that spark of interest, if you hadn’t taken me under your wing as you did for all the kids you taught.

Our halftime show at Georgia Tech this year is called “Too Soon,” and it’s written to honor the musicians that have died over the past year and a half, but every time I march onto the field I’ll have you in my mind.

I miss you, Michelle. Rest easy.