When the school lost its music programme, Mr. Osei didn't say much.
He just asked if he could keep one instrument.
The headteacher said yes, assuming he meant the piano or the drum kit.
He chose a battered old trumpet.
Every lunch break, he sat in the corner of the playground and played.
Not for the students — just because he had always played at lunch, and he didn't intend to stop.
The first week, nobody paid attention.
The second week, a girl sat nearby while she ate her sandwich.
The third week, three children came and asked what song he was playing.
The fourth week, one of them brought a recorder from home and asked if he'd teach them.
By the sixth week, there were eleven of them.
By the end of term, Mr. Osei had drafted a petition, signed by forty-seven students and nineteen parents, requesting the restoration of music.
The headteacher read it.
"You planned this," she said.
"I just played my trumpet," said Mr. Osei.
Music was restored the following year, with slightly increased funding.
Mr. Osei still played at lunch.
The kids still came.