Standing in front of the Tri-Valley marching band, Preston Cryer has a lot to keep track of.

He is the drum major, which, despite what people occasionally assume, does not mean he plays the drums.

"A lot of people think I just play drums," Preston said.

Instead, the senior is the student leader of the band. When he conducts, his movements keep dozens of musicians playing and marching together. On the field, each person occupies a place in an enormous imaginary grid. Every step matters. So does every beat.

Preston describes conducting somewhat less ceremoniously.

"I wave my hands in front of the band. They follow."

There is something fitting about Preston occupying that particular position. He is a musician who thinks mathematically, an athlete fascinated by decisions, and a future engineer who has been taking things apart, building things, and teaching himself how systems work for years.

"You kind of have to visualize a giant grid system out there," he said. "It's a mathematical thing and a geometric thing."

Visualization comes naturally to Preston. He has played tenor saxophone for years, taught himself coding through an online program, and got his first 3D printer around eighth or ninth grade. More recently, he has begun experimenting with electrical components, power supplies, and microcontrollers.

Engineering has felt like his direction for so long that he has trouble remembering exactly when he chose it.

"I've known that's what I was going to do for so long," he said.

He is considering mechanical, electrical, and computer engineering, with the University of Illinois, Texas A&M, and Purdue among his leading possibilities. Cornell captured his imagination during a visit near his grandparents' lake in upstate New York, although its cost and selectivity make it a longer shot.

What happens after college is considerably less defined. Preston is fine with that.

"Hopefully that's somewhere that I can solve problems for people," he said. "Something that will impact people."

For someone interested in solving problems, Tri-Valley has given Preston room to discover that solutions don't always work. He participated in the high school's innovation program, where students can propose an idea and use ninth hour to pursue it. Preston and a friend envisioned a tutoring program connecting high school students with middle schoolers.

It didn't happen as planned. Scheduling created problems, and existing National Honor Society tutoring made parts of their idea redundant.

"I did learn a lot about what it takes to actually make ideas happen," he said.

He likes a quote about failure that's stuck with him: if you didn't fail, you weren't even trying.

That same thinking shows up in basketball, a sport Preston has played since kindergarten. During our conversation, we talked about the extraordinary number of decisions a basketball player makes during a game. Pass or shoot. Move or stay. Help or hold position. Even without the ball, a player's choices affect everyone else.

"When you make a wrong decision, how do you react?" Preston said, echoing an idea he'd picked up along the way. "Do you just give up? Do you pout about it? Or do you just say, 'I know what I just did was wrong. I'm gonna just keep going, but I'm gonna remember it for next time.'"

Then he offered something entirely his own, distilling the idea into six words on the spot.

"Forget the feelings. Remember the moment."

That one, he confirmed, he'd just come up with.

Marching band demands precision, but a missed step cannot ruin the rest of the show. Basketball demands decisions, but a bad possession cannot become the next three possessions. Engineering requires experimentation, and an idea that fails may still teach you how to build the next one.

Even Preston's newest sport, track, contains its own version of the pattern. He competes in the triple jump, an event he describes as three distinctly different movements that somehow become one. When it's done well, he said, the athlete appears to be "floating through air."

Preston has attended Tri-Valley since first grade. Ask what makes the place special, and he doesn't begin with achievements. He begins with people.

"I could probably give you every person in my grade."

"I've probably had a conversation with almost every person in my grade," he said. He talks about teachers and staff members who care enough to give students time they aren't being paid for. He talks about a school willing to tell teenagers, essentially, Give us an idea, and we'll help you try it.

Sometimes the idea works. Sometimes it doesn't.

Preston is a senior now, standing at one of those points in life when the next few years contain more questions than answers. He knows he wants engineering. He knows he hopes music remains part of his life. He knows he wants to solve problems that matter to people. The rest can reveal itself when he gets there.

For now, he has learned something useful about moving forward. Keep the lesson. Leave the disappointment behind. And be ready for the next beat.