WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP? Part 2

I was a senior in high school, unsure what to do. So what was I good at? What did I like? Music, of course. Why not a career in music? I had listened to classical music and studied it for years, took piano lesson, sang in church choirs, sang in the school choir–although that was a strange fluke. I was in a study hall in the auditorium that was run by some faculty members who must been trained by the Gestapo. It was such an oppressive atmosphere that when the chorus director (always called "Coach") came to the study hall recruiting singers, I signed up immediately. With all that musical back ground why not teach music?

Well, my parents weren’t enthused about thatprospect. Music didn't seem like a very secure profession to follow. My father in particular didn’t think I had enough musical background since I didn’t play any instrument other than piano. He took me around to see a former organist of our church in hopes that she would either talk me out of it or say I wasn’t good enough. I think that is a reaction of many parents toward a child who seeks a career in the arts. It doesn’t seem practical. How can you make a living at it. I think I was clear-minded enough to know I would never have a career as a soloist, but teaching an performing in an ensemble and even directing held possibilities.

I persisted in my interested and my father came around enough to give it a chance. I sent off for catalogues, studied programs, went to presentations on college day. I had thought of the University of Illinois at Champaign-Urbana, but my father wasn't too keen on the cost of living away from home. So I looked through the catalogues from local universities (there are a lot of them in Chicago.) And then did a really dumb thing. I applied to one and only one institution: The Chicago Musical College of Roosevelt University. The University was relatively young (1945), but the Musical College was one of the oldest in the country (1867). I think it was just naivete on my part that I approached things this way. Today students send in applications to a dozen colleges hoping to get acceptance at a couple and then make a choice. I can’t remember what went through my mind, but I seemed to have no doubt that I would be accepted. And I was right. The university found my transcripts and ACT scores good enough. But I had to pass the audition. All programs in performing arts (theater, dance and music) require auditions. They must have told me what to expect, but until you’ve been through the audition, you don’t know what to expect. My piano teacher worked with me to develop music to perform (The Schumann Traumeri. I studied theory from an ancient book I had found. The audition was very thorough There was a written examination in music theory, a written test in dictation where the instructor plunks out stuff on a piano and you are supposed to write down what you hear (I did poorly on that), a sight singing test where they hand you a piece of music, give you the first note and you’re supposed to sing it. Then the audition in piano. I played whatever scales and chords they asked, played my performance piece, and sight read whatever music they handed me. Then it was over and you waited to get the letter telling would happen. Well, I was accepted despite the awful dictation exam. I think my piano performance was what sold it since most choral music education majors started with a year of group piano instruction, but I went straight to individual instruction. My piano teacher was one of the people who examined me in my piano audition.

Performing arts of any kind have a demanding program, always requiring more credit hours of work than an academic program. Then there was the sheer amount of time you spent practicing. I had half-hour lessons each week in piano and voice, but it took hours of work to prepare for those. The choral ensembles had two long rehearsals every week, plus extra rehearsals when we performed with the orchestra, plus concerts. I used to run into my cousin on her way to work and we would ride the train downtown together. I would embarrass her if I got a seat by practicing conducting or tapping out rhythm exercises as we rode. Well, you can’t waste forty minutes doing nothing.

Every semester was the dreaded jury exams in piano and voice. In piano a jury of three faculty members other than your own teacher listened to you do the required technique demonstrations and the pieces you had learned. They determined your grade. In voice exams, the entire vocal faculty listened to you. That was the scariest thing. In piano you had your back to the jury so they could watch your hands. In voice you faced them head on as in a recital. Voice instruction always included lessons on how to stand, what to do with your hands, how to indicate to an accompanist you’re ready, etc. Nothing in performing is left to chance. At the end of the second year there was a screening exam to determine if you had learned enough to be allowed to advanced to upper division work. I passed that, too.

I suppose I was an average student in music. I was too far behind the curve to develop my voice enough so I continued to take voice lessons beyond the requirements. I was considerably worse than average dictation, and considerably above average in conducting.

In the last semester you take student teaching. Of all things, I was assigned to the high school my mother had attended. And I worked with the same woman who directed girls chorus when my mother sang in the chorus. (I even think they were doing the same music). As I recall I was in a section of general music, mixed chorus, girls chorus, observed orchestra, and had to work in the attendance office. I have to say I was pretty good with the girl's chorus. They let me conduct a piece in the concert (the one the students attended, not the one parents attended.) It was rare to allow student teachers to conduct. I was only the second one in that school's history. General music and mixed chorus did not go as well, not because I didn't know my stuff, but because both of those setting were filled with students who didn't want to be there. Music was required of students. They either had to take general music or mixed chorus. In those settings I was on the side of the teachers and therefore an enemy. The adversarial relationship between teachers and students in high school was a horror. I hated the prospect that I'd spend the rest of my life in a relationship of conflict rather than cooperation.

It would seem that my career was about to end before it started, but there was already a new direction taking place that I'll talk about in the next blog. Did I waste four years in studying music? Absolutely not! What I learned about music has been a treasure to me. I hear music differently than people who haven't been trained in the field. I've sung in a several choruses since college. I've earned a few bucks as a choir director, substitute teacher, even an organist or pianist occasionally. I've worked with a private school's music program. I even taught other musicians. All of that has been a joy I wouldn't give up. I also learned the values of professionalism by being a performer. I think I can work in front of people because of the skills I had. I certainly am a better pastor because I can work with musicians and understand what they are doing. I don't consider the time, effort and cost I out into learning a music a waste in the least.

I'll see you next week to continue my story.

May you travel your journey making a joyful noise to the Lord.
And may the Lord God bless you on your way and greet you on your arrival.

Wayne