The Moment Eric Clapton Chose Guitar Over His College Degree

Eric Clapton was supposed to be studying art, but when he plugged in his guitar at the school talent show, he chose his real future. The principal tried to stop him. It was too late. It was Friday, November 16th, 1962 at Kingston College of Art in Southwest London. The annual autumn talent show was about to begin in the college’s main assembly hall, and 17-year-old Eric Clapton was backstage tuning his guitar with trembling fingers and wondering if he was about to make the biggest mistake of his academic career. Eric had been a student at

Kingston College of Art for just over a year, supposedly studying graphic design and commercial art, but anyone who knew him could tell you that his heart wasn’t in his studies. While other students spent their evenings working on design projects and studying art history, Eric spent his time practicing guitar, listening to blues records, and playing in local clubs whenever he could sneak away from campus.

 His teachers had been complaining about his lack of focus for months. His attendance was spotty. His assignments were often late or incomplete. And he seemed far more interested in music than in developing any kind of serious artistic career in the visual arts. Mr. Clapton, his design instructor, Professor Williams, had told him just the week before, “You have potential as a commercial artist, but only if you apply yourself.

” This obsession with popular music is going to ruin your chances of having a real career. But Eric knew something that Professor Williams didn’t. He had already found his real career. Music wasn’t a hobby or a distraction from his art studies. Music was everything. It was his passion, his calling, and increasingly his only source of genuine happiness.

 The talent show had been organized by the student council as a way to showcase the diverse talents of the college’s students. Most of the acts were what you’d expect from an art college. Poetry readings, classical music performances, interpretive dance pieces, and displays of visual art. Eric’s application to perform had raised eyebrows among both students and faculty.

 Guitar music? The student council president had asked when Eric submitted his application. What kind of guitar music? Classical folk? Blues? Eric had replied simply, “Elect electric blues.” The reaction had been immediate and skeptical. Electric guitars were still relatively uncommon in British educational institutions in 1962. They were associated with American rock and roll, with rebellion, with everything that conservative British academic establishments were trying to discourage. Mr.

 Clapton, his design instructor, Professor Williams, had told him just the week before, “You have potential as a commercial artist, but only if you apply yourself. This obsession with popular music is going to ruin your chances of having a real career.” But Eric knew something that Professor Williams didn’t. He had already found his real career.

 Music wasn’t a hobby or a distraction from his art studies. Music was everything. It was his passion, his calling, and increasingly his only source of genuine happiness. The talent show had been organized by the student council as a way to showcase the diverse talents of the college’s students. Most of the acts were what you’d expect from an art college.

 Poetry readings, classical music performances, interpretive dance pieces, and displays of visual art. Eric’s application to perform had raised eyebrows among both students and faculty. Guitar music? The student council president had asked when Eric submitted his application. What kind of guitar music? classical folk blues, Eric had replied simply, “Elect electric blues.

” The reaction had been immediate and skeptical. Electric guitars were still relatively uncommon in British educational institutions in 1962. They were associated with American rock and roll, with rebellion, with everything that conservative British academic establishments were trying to discourage. But Eric had persisted, and eventually, perhaps out of curiosity more than enthusiasm, the organizers had agreed to let him perform.

 They scheduled him for a brief 5-minute slot near the end of the program after the more serious artistic presentations. Now, as Eric waited backstage, he could hear the polite applause for a student who had just finished reciting original poetry. The audience consisted of about 300 people, students, faculty members, and some parents and friends who had come to support the performers.

 Eric knew that most of the audience would not be expecting what he was about to deliver. The talent show had been a gental affair so far, with performances that were thoughtful, quiet, and very much in keeping with the college’s academic atmosphere. What Eric was planning to do was none of those things. He had chosen to perform Hoochie Coochie Man, the Moneywaters Blues Standard that had become his signature song.

 But he wasn’t planning to perform it as a gentle acoustic interpretation. He was planning to play it exactly the way he heard it in his head, loud, electric, raw, and with all the power and intensity that had made him fall in love with the blues in the first place. His amplifier was set up at the side of the stage, a small but powerful Vox AC15 that he had bought with money earned from weekend gigs.

 The guitar he was carrying was a semi- acoustic Gretch that he had borrowed from a friend, knowing that it would produce the kind of sound he wanted for this performance. Eric Clapton performing Hoochie Coochie Man, announced the student council president, reading from his program with barely concealed skepticism. Eric walked onto the stage to polite, sparse applause.

 The assembly hall had excellent acoustics for classical music and spoken word performances, but it was about to experience something it had never been designed for. As Eric plugged in his guitar and adjusted his amplifier settings, he noticed Principal Harrison sitting in the front row, looking stern and disapproving. Dr.

 Harrison was a traditional educator who believed that art colleges should focus on preparing students for respectable careers in design, illustration, and fine arts. He had little patience for what he considered frivolous distractions. Eric looked out at the sea of faces in the assembly hall. Most of the audience members looked curious but skeptical.

 A few of his fellow students who knew about his musical interests were watching with anticipation. The faculty members looked like they were preparing to endure something they wouldn’t enjoy. Taking a deep breath, Eric positioned himself at the microphone and launched into the opening riff of Hoochie Coochie Man.

 The effect was immediate and shocking. The volume level that Eric had set was appropriate for a blues club or a rock venue, but in the quiet academic atmosphere of the Kingston College assembly hall, it was overwhelming. The sounds seemed to bounce off every wall, filling the space with a raw electric energy that nobody in the room had ever experienced in that setting.

 But more than just the volume, it was the nature of the music itself that caught everyone offguard. This wasn’t the polite, restrained performance that the audience had been expecting. This was authentic American blues played with passion and intensity by a 17-year-old British kid who had absorbed every nuance of the music he loved.

 Eric’s guitar work was flawless. Every note was perfectly placed. Every bend was executed with precision, and his rhythm was absolutely solid. He played the opening riff and verse with a confidence and maturity that belied his age, channeling the spirit of muddy waters while making the song completely his own. For the first minute and a half, the audience was too shocked to react.

 Some people sat with their mouths open, unable to process what they were hearing. Others looked around nervously, unsure how to respond to this unprecedented performance. But as Eric moved into the guitar solo section of the song, something remarkable began to happen. A few students in the audience began to nod their heads in time with the music.

 Some started to smile, recognizing that they were witnessing something special, even if they weren’t sure what to make of it. Eric was completely absorbed in his performance, lost in the music in a way that he had never been while sitting in design classes or working on art projects. This was where he belonged. This was what he was meant to do.

 And everyone in that assembly hall could see it. But not everyone appreciated what they were seeing. Principal Harrison had been growing more agitated with each passing moment. The volume was far beyond anything that had ever been heard in his assembly hall. The music was completely inappropriate for an academic setting.

 And worst of all, from his perspective, Eric was clearly enjoying himself far too much. At exactly 2 minutes and 17 seconds into the performance, Principal Harrison had had enough. He stood up from his front row seat, stroed purposefully across the stage and reached for the power cord of Eric’s amplifier. “That’s quite enough of that noise!” he shouted, pulling the plug and cutting off Eric’s performance mid solo.

 The assembly hall went dead silent. 300 people sat in stunned silence, not sure what to make of what they had just witnessed. Eric stood on the stage, still holding his guitar, looking at Principal Harrison with a mixture of anger and disbelief. “This is supposed to be a showcase of artistic achievement,” Principal Harrison announced to the audience, his voice carrying clearly through the hall’s sound system.

 not an exhibition of of noise pollution. For a moment, Eric just stood there processing what had happened. Then something inside him snapped. All of his frustration with the academic system, all of his resentment at being told that his passion was just a distraction. All of his anger at being silenced just when he was expressing his truest self came boiling to the surface.

Instead of walking off the stage quietly, as Principal Harrison clearly expected him to do, Eric stepped closer to the microphone. “This isn’t noise,” he said, his voice carrying clearly through the hall. “This is music. Real music, the kind of music that actually matters to people.” Principal Harrison’s face turned red. “Mr.

 Clapton, you will leave this stage immediately.” No, Eric said, surprising himself with his own defiance. You want to talk about artistic achievement? This music was created by some of the most important artists who ever lived. Muddy Waters, Robert Johnson, Big Joe Williams. They poured their souls into this music. They created something that speaks to people’s hearts, something that’s real and honest and powerful.

 The audience was now completely riveted. This confrontation between the teenage musician and the school authority was unlike anything they had ever seen at a college talent show. “This is exactly the kind of undisiplined behavior that has been affecting your academic performance,” Principal Harrison said sternly.

 “You’re here to study commercial art, not to indulge in these musical fantasies.” Eric looked out at the audience at his fellow students who were watching this confrontation with fascination and made a decision that would change the course of his life. “You’re right,” he said into the microphone. “I am here to study art, but I’m not here to study your kind of art.

I’m here to study the art that actually moves people.” With that, Eric unplugged his guitar from the dead amplifier, picked up the power cord that Principal Harrison had disconnected, and plugged it back in. The amplifier came back to life with a loud hum. Principal Harrison reached for the cord again, but Eric was ready for him.

 He stepped between the principal and the amplifier and launched back into his guitar solo, playing even louder and with even more intensity than before. The audience erupted. Some people cheered. Some people applauded. Some people laughed at the audacity of what they were witnessing. A 17-year-old student was openly defying the principal of his college in front of 300 people, and he was doing it with a guitar solo.

Principal Harrison was furious, but he was also trapped. He couldn’t physically wrestle the guitar away from Eric without making himself look foolish. He couldn’t call security without creating an even bigger scene. and he couldn’t ignore what was happening because the entire college community was watching.

For the next minute and a half, Eric Clapton played the most important guitar solo of his young life. He played with everything he had, knowing that this was his moment to make a statement, to declare who he was and what he believed in. When he finally brought the song to its natural conclusion, the applause was thunderous.

 Students were on their feet cheering. not just for the musical performance, but for the act of rebellion they had just witnessed. Even some faculty members were clapping, though more quietly and with obvious confliction. Eric unplugged his guitar, picked up his amplifier, and walked off the stage without saying another word to Principal Harrison.

 The talent show continued for another 20 minutes, but everyone knew that nothing else would match the drama and excitement of what they had just witnessed. On Monday morning, Eric was called into Principal Harrison’s office. “Mr. Clapton,” the principal said, “your behavior on Friday was completely unacceptable. You openly defied authority, disrupted an official college event, and showed a complete lack of respect for the educational environment we’re trying to maintain here.

” “Yes, sir,” Eric replied, not seeming particularly sorry. Given your poor academic performance and this latest incident, I’m afraid we have no choice but to ask you to leave Kingston College of Art. Your enrollment is terminated effective immediately. Eric had been expecting this outcome, and he had already decided how to respond. “That’s fine,” he said calmly.

“I wasn’t learning what I needed to learn here anyway.” “And what exactly do you think you need to learn, Mr. Clapton? How to be a musician? how to make music that matters, how to do what I’m actually meant to do with my life. Principal Harrison shook his head. You’re throwing away a perfectly good education for a fantasy.

 Music isn’t a career, Mr. Clapton. It’s a hobby. Without your art degree, you’ll never have a stable, respectable profession. [snorts] Eric stood up to leave. We’ll see about that, sir. As Eric walked out of Kingston College of Art for the last time, carrying his guitar case and a small box of personal belongings, he felt something he had never felt in all his months as a student, complete certainty about his future.

 The story of Eric’s confrontation with Principal Harrison spread quickly through London’s music scene. Within days, everyone who was connected to the blues and rock scene had heard about the teenage guitarist who had been expelled from art college for refusing to stop playing music. Instead of hurting his reputation, the incident enhanced it.

Promoters and band leaders saw Eric’s defiance as evidence of his commitment to music. If he was willing to sacrifice his education for the sake of his art, then he must be seriously dedicated to his craft. Within a month of his expulsion, Eric had more gig offers than he could handle. Bands that had never heard of him before suddenly wanted to audition him.

 The story of his rebellion had become part of his legend before he had even achieved any real musical success. More importantly, Eric’s confrontation with authority at Kingston College had taught him an important lesson about the music business. Sometimes you have to be willing to risk everything in order to achieve what you really want.

Years later, when Eric Clapton was one of the most famous guitarists in the world, journalists would often ask him about the moment he decided to become a professional musician. He would always tell them about that Friday afternoon in November 1962 when he chose music over academic respectability and never looked back.

 Principal Harrison, meanwhile, never quite lived down the incident. For years afterward, Kingston College students would joke about the principal who tried to silence Eric Clapton and ended up launching his career instead. The assembly hall where the confrontation took place eventually became a point of pride for the college. A small plaque was installed near the stage reading, “Eric Clapton performed here in 1962 and chose his destiny.

” Sometimes the most important lesson you can learn in school is when to stop listening to your teachers.

 

Eric Clapton was supposed to be studying art, but when he plugged in his guitar at the school talent show, he chose his real future. The principal tried to stop him. It was too late. It was Friday, November 16th, 1962 at Kingston College of Art in Southwest London. The annual autumn talent show was about to begin in the college’s main assembly hall, and 17-year-old Eric Clapton was backstage tuning his guitar with trembling fingers and wondering if he was about to make the biggest mistake of his academic career. Eric had been a student at

Kingston College of Art for just over a year, supposedly studying graphic design and commercial art, but anyone who knew him could tell you that his heart wasn’t in his studies. While other students spent their evenings working on design projects and studying art history, Eric spent his time practicing guitar, listening to blues records, and playing in local clubs whenever he could sneak away from campus.

 His teachers had been complaining about his lack of focus for months. His attendance was spotty. His assignments were often late or incomplete. And he seemed far more interested in music than in developing any kind of serious artistic career in the visual arts. Mr. Clapton, his design instructor, Professor Williams, had told him just the week before, “You have potential as a commercial artist, but only if you apply yourself.

” This obsession with popular music is going to ruin your chances of having a real career. But Eric knew something that Professor Williams didn’t. He had already found his real career. Music wasn’t a hobby or a distraction from his art studies. Music was everything. It was his passion, his calling, and increasingly his only source of genuine happiness.

 The talent show had been organized by the student council as a way to showcase the diverse talents of the college’s students. Most of the acts were what you’d expect from an art college. Poetry readings, classical music performances, interpretive dance pieces, and displays of visual art. Eric’s application to perform had raised eyebrows among both students and faculty.

 Guitar music? The student council president had asked when Eric submitted his application. What kind of guitar music? Classical folk? Blues? Eric had replied simply, “Elect electric blues.” The reaction had been immediate and skeptical. Electric guitars were still relatively uncommon in British educational institutions in 1962. They were associated with American rock and roll, with rebellion, with everything that conservative British academic establishments were trying to discourage. Mr.

 Clapton, his design instructor, Professor Williams, had told him just the week before, “You have potential as a commercial artist, but only if you apply yourself. This obsession with popular music is going to ruin your chances of having a real career.” But Eric knew something that Professor Williams didn’t. He had already found his real career.

 Music wasn’t a hobby or a distraction from his art studies. Music was everything. It was his passion, his calling, and increasingly his only source of genuine happiness. The talent show had been organized by the student council as a way to showcase the diverse talents of the college’s students. Most of the acts were what you’d expect from an art college.

 Poetry readings, classical music performances, interpretive dance pieces, and displays of visual art. Eric’s application to perform had raised eyebrows among both students and faculty. Guitar music? The student council president had asked when Eric submitted his application. What kind of guitar music? classical folk blues, Eric had replied simply, “Elect electric blues.

” The reaction had been immediate and skeptical. Electric guitars were still relatively uncommon in British educational institutions in 1962. They were associated with American rock and roll, with rebellion, with everything that conservative British academic establishments were trying to discourage. But Eric had persisted, and eventually, perhaps out of curiosity more than enthusiasm, the organizers had agreed to let him perform.

 They scheduled him for a brief 5-minute slot near the end of the program after the more serious artistic presentations. Now, as Eric waited backstage, he could hear the polite applause for a student who had just finished reciting original poetry. The audience consisted of about 300 people, students, faculty members, and some parents and friends who had come to support the performers.

 Eric knew that most of the audience would not be expecting what he was about to deliver. The talent show had been a gental affair so far, with performances that were thoughtful, quiet, and very much in keeping with the college’s academic atmosphere. What Eric was planning to do was none of those things. He had chosen to perform Hoochie Coochie Man, the Moneywaters Blues Standard that had become his signature song.

 But he wasn’t planning to perform it as a gentle acoustic interpretation. He was planning to play it exactly the way he heard it in his head, loud, electric, raw, and with all the power and intensity that had made him fall in love with the blues in the first place. His amplifier was set up at the side of the stage, a small but powerful Vox AC15 that he had bought with money earned from weekend gigs.

 The guitar he was carrying was a semi- acoustic Gretch that he had borrowed from a friend, knowing that it would produce the kind of sound he wanted for this performance. Eric Clapton performing Hoochie Coochie Man, announced the student council president, reading from his program with barely concealed skepticism. Eric walked onto the stage to polite, sparse applause.

 The assembly hall had excellent acoustics for classical music and spoken word performances, but it was about to experience something it had never been designed for. As Eric plugged in his guitar and adjusted his amplifier settings, he noticed Principal Harrison sitting in the front row, looking stern and disapproving. Dr.

 Harrison was a traditional educator who believed that art colleges should focus on preparing students for respectable careers in design, illustration, and fine arts. He had little patience for what he considered frivolous distractions. Eric looked out at the sea of faces in the assembly hall. Most of the audience members looked curious but skeptical.

 A few of his fellow students who knew about his musical interests were watching with anticipation. The faculty members looked like they were preparing to endure something they wouldn’t enjoy. Taking a deep breath, Eric positioned himself at the microphone and launched into the opening riff of Hoochie Coochie Man.

 The effect was immediate and shocking. The volume level that Eric had set was appropriate for a blues club or a rock venue, but in the quiet academic atmosphere of the Kingston College assembly hall, it was overwhelming. The sounds seemed to bounce off every wall, filling the space with a raw electric energy that nobody in the room had ever experienced in that setting.

 But more than just the volume, it was the nature of the music itself that caught everyone offguard. This wasn’t the polite, restrained performance that the audience had been expecting. This was authentic American blues played with passion and intensity by a 17-year-old British kid who had absorbed every nuance of the music he loved.

 Eric’s guitar work was flawless. Every note was perfectly placed. Every bend was executed with precision, and his rhythm was absolutely solid. He played the opening riff and verse with a confidence and maturity that belied his age, channeling the spirit of muddy waters while making the song completely his own. For the first minute and a half, the audience was too shocked to react.

 Some people sat with their mouths open, unable to process what they were hearing. Others looked around nervously, unsure how to respond to this unprecedented performance. But as Eric moved into the guitar solo section of the song, something remarkable began to happen. A few students in the audience began to nod their heads in time with the music.

 Some started to smile, recognizing that they were witnessing something special, even if they weren’t sure what to make of it. Eric was completely absorbed in his performance, lost in the music in a way that he had never been while sitting in design classes or working on art projects. This was where he belonged. This was what he was meant to do.

 And everyone in that assembly hall could see it. But not everyone appreciated what they were seeing. Principal Harrison had been growing more agitated with each passing moment. The volume was far beyond anything that had ever been heard in his assembly hall. The music was completely inappropriate for an academic setting.

 And worst of all, from his perspective, Eric was clearly enjoying himself far too much. At exactly 2 minutes and 17 seconds into the performance, Principal Harrison had had enough. He stood up from his front row seat, stroed purposefully across the stage and reached for the power cord of Eric’s amplifier. “That’s quite enough of that noise!” he shouted, pulling the plug and cutting off Eric’s performance mid solo.

 The assembly hall went dead silent. 300 people sat in stunned silence, not sure what to make of what they had just witnessed. Eric stood on the stage, still holding his guitar, looking at Principal Harrison with a mixture of anger and disbelief. “This is supposed to be a showcase of artistic achievement,” Principal Harrison announced to the audience, his voice carrying clearly through the hall’s sound system.

 not an exhibition of of noise pollution. For a moment, Eric just stood there processing what had happened. Then something inside him snapped. All of his frustration with the academic system, all of his resentment at being told that his passion was just a distraction. All of his anger at being silenced just when he was expressing his truest self came boiling to the surface.

Instead of walking off the stage quietly, as Principal Harrison clearly expected him to do, Eric stepped closer to the microphone. “This isn’t noise,” he said, his voice carrying clearly through the hall. “This is music. Real music, the kind of music that actually matters to people.” Principal Harrison’s face turned red. “Mr.

 Clapton, you will leave this stage immediately.” No, Eric said, surprising himself with his own defiance. You want to talk about artistic achievement? This music was created by some of the most important artists who ever lived. Muddy Waters, Robert Johnson, Big Joe Williams. They poured their souls into this music. They created something that speaks to people’s hearts, something that’s real and honest and powerful.

 The audience was now completely riveted. This confrontation between the teenage musician and the school authority was unlike anything they had ever seen at a college talent show. “This is exactly the kind of undisiplined behavior that has been affecting your academic performance,” Principal Harrison said sternly.

 “You’re here to study commercial art, not to indulge in these musical fantasies.” Eric looked out at the audience at his fellow students who were watching this confrontation with fascination and made a decision that would change the course of his life. “You’re right,” he said into the microphone. “I am here to study art, but I’m not here to study your kind of art.

I’m here to study the art that actually moves people.” With that, Eric unplugged his guitar from the dead amplifier, picked up the power cord that Principal Harrison had disconnected, and plugged it back in. The amplifier came back to life with a loud hum. Principal Harrison reached for the cord again, but Eric was ready for him.

 He stepped between the principal and the amplifier and launched back into his guitar solo, playing even louder and with even more intensity than before. The audience erupted. Some people cheered. Some people applauded. Some people laughed at the audacity of what they were witnessing. A 17-year-old student was openly defying the principal of his college in front of 300 people, and he was doing it with a guitar solo.

Principal Harrison was furious, but he was also trapped. He couldn’t physically wrestle the guitar away from Eric without making himself look foolish. He couldn’t call security without creating an even bigger scene. and he couldn’t ignore what was happening because the entire college community was watching.

For the next minute and a half, Eric Clapton played the most important guitar solo of his young life. He played with everything he had, knowing that this was his moment to make a statement, to declare who he was and what he believed in. When he finally brought the song to its natural conclusion, the applause was thunderous.

 Students were on their feet cheering. not just for the musical performance, but for the act of rebellion they had just witnessed. Even some faculty members were clapping, though more quietly and with obvious confliction. Eric unplugged his guitar, picked up his amplifier, and walked off the stage without saying another word to Principal Harrison.

 The talent show continued for another 20 minutes, but everyone knew that nothing else would match the drama and excitement of what they had just witnessed. On Monday morning, Eric was called into Principal Harrison’s office. “Mr. Clapton,” the principal said, “your behavior on Friday was completely unacceptable. You openly defied authority, disrupted an official college event, and showed a complete lack of respect for the educational environment we’re trying to maintain here.

” “Yes, sir,” Eric replied, not seeming particularly sorry. Given your poor academic performance and this latest incident, I’m afraid we have no choice but to ask you to leave Kingston College of Art. Your enrollment is terminated effective immediately. Eric had been expecting this outcome, and he had already decided how to respond. “That’s fine,” he said calmly.

“I wasn’t learning what I needed to learn here anyway.” “And what exactly do you think you need to learn, Mr. Clapton? How to be a musician? how to make music that matters, how to do what I’m actually meant to do with my life. Principal Harrison shook his head. You’re throwing away a perfectly good education for a fantasy.

 Music isn’t a career, Mr. Clapton. It’s a hobby. Without your art degree, you’ll never have a stable, respectable profession. [snorts] Eric stood up to leave. We’ll see about that, sir. As Eric walked out of Kingston College of Art for the last time, carrying his guitar case and a small box of personal belongings, he felt something he had never felt in all his months as a student, complete certainty about his future.

 The story of Eric’s confrontation with Principal Harrison spread quickly through London’s music scene. Within days, everyone who was connected to the blues and rock scene had heard about the teenage guitarist who had been expelled from art college for refusing to stop playing music. Instead of hurting his reputation, the incident enhanced it.

Promoters and band leaders saw Eric’s defiance as evidence of his commitment to music. If he was willing to sacrifice his education for the sake of his art, then he must be seriously dedicated to his craft. Within a month of his expulsion, Eric had more gig offers than he could handle. Bands that had never heard of him before suddenly wanted to audition him.

 The story of his rebellion had become part of his legend before he had even achieved any real musical success. More importantly, Eric’s confrontation with authority at Kingston College had taught him an important lesson about the music business. Sometimes you have to be willing to risk everything in order to achieve what you really want.

Years later, when Eric Clapton was one of the most famous guitarists in the world, journalists would often ask him about the moment he decided to become a professional musician. He would always tell them about that Friday afternoon in November 1962 when he chose music over academic respectability and never looked back.

 Principal Harrison, meanwhile, never quite lived down the incident. For years afterward, Kingston College students would joke about the principal who tried to silence Eric Clapton and ended up launching his career instead. The assembly hall where the confrontation took place eventually became a point of pride for the college. A small plaque was installed near the stage reading, “Eric Clapton performed here in 1962 and chose his destiny.

” Sometimes the most important lesson you can learn in school is when to stop listening to your teachers.