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Artistic Discipline as the Pathway to Connection In my recent experience conducting an ACDA National Honor Choir, a profound connection was unlocked. Unlike the all-state and festival choirs I’ve conducted, where singers often share regional backgrounds, this choir brought together students from literally every corner of the country. With such a diverse mix of experiences and perspectives, the depth of connection that formed in less than four days was striking. Through the demands of extremely challenging repertoire, highly intense rehearsals, and the shared commitment to every minute artistic detail, these youngsters became deeply invested in each other. Each rehearsal was more than just a technical exercise; it was an evolving conversation through the musical process. Singers learned to trust one another through a myriad of new exercises, ways of thinking, and an impossibly hard-to-impress conductor. This process required risk and the need to stretch themselves beyond their perceived limits. At first, the discipline required may have seemed like a pursuit of perfection, but beneath the surface, the true challenge was creating something uniquely meaningful together. By the final performance at the Meyerson, they weren’t an honor choir; they were a choir—a group of individuals who had built something real through tireless effort and focus. One of the examples of this came in our work on Zanaida Robles’s THE SUMMIT IS NIGH. This brilliant commission demanded precision, featuring intricate rhythms, a complex harmonic palette, and an expansive vocal range. The text, drawn from Paul Laurence Dunbar’s Slow Through the Dark, speaks of perseverance in the face of difficulty. Though these are some of the most talented high school singers in the country, they still predictably struggled with the complexity of the rhythmic interplay and an unfamiliar harmonic language. The challenge became a shared experience, deepening their investment in both the piece and their fellow singers. Overcoming a shared struggle made the final performance even more powerful—not just as an artistic achievement, but as a testament to their collective growth. This mindset applies to every choir, no matter their starting point. Another noteworthy moment came through our work on my SILENTIUM. In a world where it is easy to let external forces dictate our thoughts and emotions, this piece invited a return to personal reflection. While choral music often emphasizes a unified sound and communal vision, SILENTIUM required singers to embrace both individuality and cohesion. The music demanded introspection and trust, asking each singer to bring their own interpretation while maintaining connection with the ensemble. In this way, SILENTIUM reinforced that discipline in music isn’t just about technical accuracy—it’s about presence, intentionality, and creating space for both personal expression and collective artistry. In many ways, it reflects the world we aspire to build. Choirs are not just groups of singers; they are communities forged through shared effort and artistic purpose. While the emotional power of choral music often seems like a given in performance, I assuredly say it is not a given. It is discipline in a well-planned process that makes this depth of connection possible. Far from being restrictive, discipline creates an environment where singers support one another’s growth, listen more deeply, and commit to something beyond themselves. At its core, artistic discipline requires commitment—commitment to preparation, focus, and engagement. When each singer takes responsibility for knowing their role in the music, refining their individual technique in the best way they can, and bringing personal engagement and energy to rehearsals, they demonstrate respect for both the ensemble and the music. This shared investment builds trust, reinforcing the idea that every individual plays a crucial role in the group’s success. Choral singing is inherently collaborative. Discipline teaches singers to listen—not just to their own voice, but to the voices around them. Tuning, balance, and “blend” require active awareness and adaptability. By the way, “blend” is a noun, not a verb in my opinion. It is a resulting state that happens when many things line up concurrently. Not shying away from color and resonance—but singing “into” each other’s sounds is key, as long as there is agreement on color. As singers hone these skills, they develop a heightened sensitivity to the ensemble’s overall sound, creating a deeper sense of connection, as well as interdependence. Mastering technical elements such as phrasing, dynamics, and diction isn’t about rigid control—it’s what allows for greater emotional depth. When singers approach the music with care and intentionality, they can express it with more nuance and sincerity. This shared pursuit of artistic depth brings choir members closer, both to the music and to one another. Beyond the music itself, artistic discipline strengthens relationships. The routine of rehearsing together—facing challenges, making adjustments, celebrating progress—builds trust. Over time, singers come to rely on one another not just as musicians, but as collaborators and friends. Ultimately, artistic discipline isn’t about rigid structure or technical perfection. It’s about commitment—to the music, to growth, and to each other. When choirs embrace this mindset, they foster a culture of mutual respect and artistic exploration, creating something far greater than the sum of its parts.
Choral Elitism is Real: What it is and What We Should Do about It I have been a choral director for almost 20 years. My career has been filled with so many beautiful moments, wonderful music, and students who have learned a few things about music and even life. My life has been enriched beyond what I could have ever imagined. I owe so much to the field of choral music for so many of the blessings I’ve experienced in my life. As I look back through the years, however, there has been an ever-increasing awareness of something else—something that presents itself in a less-than-overt manner. Many of my years have been spent second-guessing myself, wondering if I’m good enough, comparing myself to others, and suffering from imposter syndrome. Much of my journey in working to get over that in recent years has involved recognizing my own innate insecurities as a conductor. It even took some time in therapy to get to the heart of something else going on in the United States choral landscape that I’ve come to recognize as a significant contributing factor to those issues: choral elitism. I couldn’t put my finger on it in those early years, but as I look back on it, choral elitism was at the core of a lot of my anxieties as a conductor. What is choral elitism? Oxford defines elitism as the belief that a system should be led by an elite group. I believe choral elitism is deeply rooted in the culture of our profession. It stems partially from the comparative aspects of what we do. We can all agree that excellence is valued highly in any artistic medium, but because there is no one universally accepted definition of what a great choir sounds like, the only way we can assess our own level of achievement is by comparing it to other work that has already been presented. We spend a great deal of time listening to great recordings and performances to shape our personal understanding of what constitutes high artistry. At the core, this is not a negative thing. We need to be pushed by one another to reach greater heights of musicianship. Elitism shows up in what we say to each other or about one another, how we assess each other’s work, how we view the various levels of musical education, and our general attitude and arrogance about the various aspects of our profession. Here are some things that I felt and observed in my career: “I’m better than you because my choir is performing at this level and your choir is not.” I’m sure very few have actually come out and said this, but it’s felt in the underpinning of a comment, body language, or facial expression. It’s in a simple statement like, “You’ll get there.” “If you are not as experienced or your choir isn’t performing at a certain level, you aren’t as valuable to the profession.” A colleague of mine shared a story about performing at a state conference for the first time. One of her students came up to her and asked, “Are we supposed to be here?” Confused, the conductor inquired what the student was talking about, and he explained, “I overhead someone say we didn’t deserve to be here because you’re such a new teacher.” My colleague was mortified that (a) a music teacher thought that and (b) had the nerve to say it aloud in front of students. “If you aren’t the best, you are nothing.” Another colleague shared with me about going to contest his second year as a high school director. Being in a strong program, there was an extremely high expectation that his school receive stellar scores. Although they did well, they did not receive the top superior ranking. As a young twenty-seven-year-old teacher, he began to seriously consider that he joined the wrong profession. Thankfully, a mentor talked him down from edge, and he stayed in the field and is today a renowned conductor. “When are you going to ‘move up’ to teaching college?” As a high school director who’s been blessed with some success and recognition in recent years, I’ve had to answer this question dozens of times. It hurts every time. I graciously shrug it off and offer my reasons for wanting to stay a “lowly” high school director, but those conversations always leave me feeling invalidated and not valued. I imagine it is even worse for those who teach middle and elementary school. The idea that their only job is to “feed” the next level is elitist to the core. Somehow we’ve decided that age determines how much value a student has on the choral music education totem pole. I would argue that it should be the opposite, if anything. Elementary- and middle-level students are in many ways the foundation of the entire choral ecosystem. Perhaps I will be dismissed as just being an overly sensitive director. However, I have overheard and even been a part of the post-performance reactions and discussions at concerts, festivals, and conferences. I am not immune. I have been just as guilty as anyone else by engaging in negative discussions about other conductors’ work. What is said often comes from an elitist perspective. There is no denying it. This is a real thing that has been going on for a long time in our field, and is unfortunately passed down from one generation of choral directors to the next. I believe two questions should be addressed: What is the problem with choral elitism? And what do we do about it? What is the problem with choral elitism? Singing and conducting are astonishingly vulnerable. We need to feel valued and affirmed, particularly in our formative years, but elitism breaks that down. The choral community we have is as important to maintain amongst conductors as it is with our singers. If we serve our egos over the community, we are in trouble. Vulnerability Singing is perhaps the most vulnerable activity we do as human beings. We create sound from within our bodies and open ourselves up to the world. As both conductors and singers, we have to put ourselves out there in order to grow our programs and improve our craft. Yes, we should receive authentic feedback from trusted professionals as often as possible, self-evaluate performance videos and recordings, and soak up as much knowledge as we can from experts in the field and shape those tools to best fit our teaching personality. The problem is that putting our singers out there in front of our colleagues is scary. Sharing our work is scary. If a conductor walks out on stage not feeling as if their work is valued, it not only harms the director, but it harms the students. Community While the highest level of artistry should always be striven for, we should ask ourselves: “Are we living up to the values we advertise as virtues in our profession?” What are the virtues of our field that we all hold dear? I think most of us first think of community: Music brings people together. Music unites us. Our profession should uplift not only our singers but one another. If we are not lifting each other up, it can destroy the confidence needed for young or inexperienced conductors and teachers to truly hit their stride. It’s already hard to feel valued when we are constantly surrounded by something better. How many artists leave the profession early because they have not been given a chance to fully find themselves as conductors? Modeling We as conductors have such an immense responsibility to shape our singers as human beings. Music may be the best tool for this. What we are modeling for our singers, especially those of us who teach students in the educational system? They pick up on elitism as much as adults, but their self-confidence is even more fragile. If their self-confidence isn’t hurt as a result of an elitist mind-set, they will pick up on and develop those ways of thinking, and the generational cycle will continue. At all educational levels, elitism can inadvertently color mentoring, leaving many young people entering our field with a view that risks perpetuating the problem. We can miss out on an opportunity to teach young people how to be authentic, loving human beings. What can we do about it? I can’t pretend to have the tools to single-handedly solve a deeply embedded problem, but I think there are some simple things to reframe our mind-set. Make room for everyone There is room for greatness from all of us in the field! We don’t have to be threatened by someone else’s success. Our colleagues’ work should always be celebrated. Because we always seem to measure our success against others, it’s hard not to engage in scarcity mentality (the idea that there is only a certain amount of success out there, and if others have it, it’s harder for us to attain). Hearing a choir performing at a high level doesn’t diminish the work that we are doing. Seeing that someone has earned an award for their hard work does not discount all that you’ve accomplished. Success in choral music is measured in so many different ways, and we need to make room for more of it! Listen for the good What do we focus on when we listen to a performance? An elitist mentality would encourage us to try to listen for every possible flaw so that we have something to gossip about after the performance. It’s easy to get swept up in the current of a negative conversation. Admittedly, it’s happened to me more times than I wish. Allow yourself to listen with a critical ear, but keep a mind out for things that are being done well. I would much prefer to hear an authentic performance with flaws than a perfect performance that lacks human authenticity. We should sing to provide inspiration, not solely to impress one another. We can listen for joy, beauty, and community, as well as pain and struggle. We can watch singers pour their hearts out for each other, their director, and their audience. That is what is so beautiful about our art. We can put our egos aside and enjoy a truly human experience. You can end an elitist conversation by being bold enough to say something positive about a fellow conductor or performance. Theodore Roosevelt famously said in 1910: “It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs … who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly.” Compliment your colleagues If you observe a performance at a festival, conference, or traditional concert, approach the conductor after and highlight what you liked. Thank them for their hard work. If not right after the performance, send them an email or tag them in a social media post. Conductors truly appreciate feedback from their colleagues more than anyone else because they know it’s coming from a well-informed audience member. When talking with your colleague, bring up authentic positive elements of the performance. Chances are they are well aware of what didn’t go well. Let’s not deny it: we all need to hear some positive cognition when we put ourselves out there. Strengths-based feedback can help a choir or conductor grow even more than just focusing on improvements. Offer constructive criticism While we can practice listening to a performance with a mind-set of positivity about what is being done well, there are going to be flaws and things a conductor or singers could have done better. With that in mind, there should be freedom for constructive critique with the goal of sharing wisdom and offering suggestions for improvement. Judgmental criticism comes from a place of negative comparison, envy, and scarcity and is what we want to avoid. Constructive criticism, meanwhile, is grounded in honoring and respecting the integrity of the ensemble while giving supportive and helpful feedback. It’s assuming the best in the performers and conductor and being willing to acknowledge that to err is human. Share Our world needs to know what we are doing in our field. SHARE SHARE SHARE…all of it! Share videos and recordings of your choirs on social media. Share videos and recordings of other choirs also. Post successes of all kinds. This does not have to be an award; it can be a beautiful letter a choir member wrote to you, a celebratory comment about a great concert, or even getting everyone in your freshmen tenor/bass chorus to match pitch for the first time! And don’t forget to make a positive comment when you see someone has shared something. It was likely quite vulnerable for them to do it, and they need to be lifted up and given affirmation. Choir is a beautiful thing. It may be one of the most beautiful things we have. We need to do everything we can to keep it a safe refuge from all of the negative in our world.
Create a Culture of Vulnerability in Choir In a public conference address a number of years ago, the now late Weston Noble shared about what he felt was the greatest attribute of an outstanding choral director. In a discussion prior, his interviewer stopped him while he was searching for the right answer to a question, “Are you trying to say vulnerability?” he asked. The word vulnerability rang through Weston’s entire body. Weston described how he knew it was right even though he didn’t know why. The openness to feel and release emotions, as well as the openness to make mistakes and admit to them. Though he lived through many years of not putting his finger on the right word, vulnerability became Weston Noble’s lifelong journey. He stated, “I want to take my singers to a level of emotional and spiritual vulnerability they simply could not achieve on their own. The music is the vehicle through which I want to show singers more about themselves.” What is Vulnerability? We have heard this word a lot in modern culture and thus there are many different ideas of what it means. Webster defines vulnerability as being “capable of or susceptible to being hurt” as well as “open to criticism.” Because vulnerability is a completely universal experience, that shows up in so many different ways, there is more present in that word than a straight forward, black and white description in a dictionary. So much so, that world renowned researcher and psychologist Dr. Brené Brown has made it her life’s mission to research the uncomfortable experiences of life known as vulnerability and shame. She describes it a bit more eloquently: “Vulnerability is the birthplace of love, belonging, joy, courage, empathy and creativity. It is the source of hope, accountability, and authenticity. If we want greater clarity in our purpose or deeper and more meaningful lives, vulnerability is the path.” She also defines vulnerability as “uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure.” How about for us as artists? Well, she has thought about us as well. “To put our art out into the world with no assurance of acceptance or appreciation – that’s vulnerability.” Vulnerability and Singing As musicians, we all create vulnerable things. In the choral field, what we often do is put on armor as a way of protecting ourselves from being judged. I believe that our role as teachers and mentors is to work to shed that armor and help our students overcome that tendency as well. Why is it important for singers to shed the armor and access vulnerability? I think many of us can agree that by nature, singing is one of the most vulnerable activities we can do. We create sound from with inside our bodies. As a singer who is also an instrumentalist, I am careful how I say this, but I believe there something even more personal about sharing our voices than playing an instrument. Because singers create sound 100% biologically, the sounds we make are closely tied with who we are as a human beings. Not only do choral musicians have to build up the courage to make sound with others, but we have to share it with the world. We put it out there without any assurance of acceptance or appreciation. Students need to understand that laying it on the line can and will result in some failure. The judgement and criticism will likely be there and their performance may not be met with praise. The vulnerability factor is even more sensitive with boys as it relates to singing. All of their lives, society teaches them that showing emotion is a sign of weakness. They hear things like “Don’t cry.” “Suck it up.” and “Be a man.” It’s no secret that singing is a vulnerable activity, so already there is a subconscious connection between vulnerability and emotion with choir. Rightly so, as emotion is such an integral part of impactful artistic creation. The problem is that boys recognize this correlation before even entering a choir room, and thereby decide that because “choir equals emotion,” then certainly “choir must be weak.” I believe these negative stereotypes should be addressed. Talk to them about the fact that it’s courageous that they are there. This is a wonderful opportunity to show young men how being vulnerable in this way helps people realize their most authentic selves. There is nothing weak about being an authentic human being in a world that pressures us to be like others. In fact, it’s nothing short of courageous. The Culture Begins with You I believe the most important thing choral directors can do to encourage the development of vulnerability in a choir, is to be vulnerable themselves. Share things about yourself and freely talk about difficult things. Obviously, don’t share about the divorce you’re going through, etc. but there are plenty of opportunities to allow the students to connect with you on a deeper level. One example is I’ve personally shared with my students was about my negative experience in high school. I grew up in a very small town in which sports reigned supreme. Music was what I loved most in life, but I wasn’t able to realize that due to the pressure to play sports. It wasn’t something that was told to me, but it was something that I knew. I felt it. I had to play sports to compensate for being a musician and to be a part of the accepted social group. I was not a music major when I started college. It was all my parents could do to get me to sign up for the “y’all come and sing” choir at the university. I begrudgingly signed up. Thankfully, after meeting so many students who were unapologetically passionate about music and singing, I began to become comfortable with my authentic self. Finally, at the age of 18, I was able to truly discover my passion for music and not be apologetic about it. I became a music major the 2nd semester of my freshman year and entered this wonderful field. My life goal as a teacher is to make sure that my students don’t have the experience that I had. I want them to feel PROUD to be in choir! Being authentic and sharing this about myself has had a strong impact on my students. Modeling and Developing Vulnerability Think about who you are as person and be true to who you are. Be the very best possible version of you. Whenever I attend music conferences and watch experts in my field talk about how they teach and conduct, I am inspired. However, I often leave those conferences questioning myself. Maybe my teaching personality needs to be more like this person, or perhaps I should adopt this set of philosophies because this person is so successful. What I’ve found, however, is that trying to be like someone else gets in the way of accessing our own gifts and talents. As soon as I began the journey of realizing my own value is when success and happiness started to come my way. And for those of you who work with teenagers, you’ve probably realized that they can sniff out inauthenticity in a second, so you may as well be yourself! Be free with your emotions. Music is emotional. If students are expected to lay it on the line in rehearsal and performance, this is a way for them to know that that’s ok. If they see that you are not afraid to be vulnerable in this way, they will follow suit. Share WHY a piece of music is important/special to you. We request that students buy in to an art form they know little about. That’s already a tall task. If we can share something that AUTHENTICALLY connects us to the music or the text of a piece they will connect. If you are performing a Sara Teasdale text about loss, perhaps talk about a personal story and how you overcame it. What an opportunity to teach about life! If you or a student are being affected by a piece of music or a current event, stop and talk about it. Rehearsal can always wait! If there is an opportunity for a powerful moment or beautiful discussion, don’t pass it up. Always take advantage of those moments. I’ll share one such example. It was the day after the Parkland shooting in Florida. It was not long before our concert, so the temptation was to rehearse. A student suggested we sing Jake Runestad’s “Let My Love Be Heard” as an offering to those victims. We stood in a circle, grasped hands, and sang. Of course, everyone in the room was an emotional mess at the end. Although there were 45 minutes of class left, there was no way there was going to be a meaningful rehearsal. We took the rest of class having the students share how they were feeling. There were tears, there was anger, there was despair, there was hopelessness. But, there was also healing. The choir room was a safe place for them to have a platform to be vulnerable with their feelings in this way. Make sure the students always know how much you care for them. LOVE is the word here. Everyone wants to be in a group that performs well, but being accepted is what students want and need most in a music ensemble. Provide affirmation at every opportunity. Each student should feel he/she is the director’s biggest fan. They should feel like, no matter what, there is always going to be a place for me in this group. This creates safety for students to explore their authentic selves in a vulnerable way. Examine where you are on the spectrum of Perfectionism vs. Healthy Striving. Perfectionism fuels this thought that, “if I do everything perfectly, I can avoid or minimize the painful feelings of shame, judgement, and blame.” Healthy striving is self-focused, i.e. “How can I improve? Perfectionism is other- focused, i.e. “What will they think?” While the word perfectionism certainly “sounds” like a virtue of dedication, it can put students under a lot of pressure. They can develop an unhealthy fear of making mistakes, the fear of being criticized, the fear of rejection and judgement. It creates an environment in which vulnerability cannot thrive. Encourage vulnerability through activities and team building. We do choir related skits at our retreats every year. The only parameters they are given is the topic needs to be choir related. In addition to forcing the kiddos into a vulnerable place right off the bat, they are hilarious! They usually use it as a platform to make fun of their director. We also do an activity base around fear. Students write down their greatest fears. These are shared anonymously with the class. Almost every time we’ve done this, the common thread that comes out of this is fear of being judged or criticized in front of their peers. Vulnerability, essentially. Realizing this common fear helps break down those walls and they become more comfortable being their true authentic selves. Singing Benefits Vulnerability isn’t purely for the emotional well being of the choir. There are direct correlations with how they sound. If the students feel like they need to be careful with who they are in the classroom, their sound will be “careful.” If the students are emotionally free, the choir can more easily achieve a “free” sound. It goes back to how and where the sound is created. As I mentioned before, because the sound is created biologically, it is so closely tied with who we are as human beings. Become a more “free” human being will create a more free choral musician. A few final words from Weston about this…“I want to be unifying and catalytic, drawing a desire from each singer to be more than they ever could be as individuals, willing to embrace the community of the choral ensemble. I want to become more of who we already are but often hide to others. I want to express the freedom that comes in authentic expression of the body, soul, and spirit—and that freedom found in the choral community experience is a treasure beyond compare.” We have been given the opportunity as choral directors to not only inspire people to be better musicians, but equip them for the rest of their lives. Let’s do all we can to help our singers become more loving, vulnerable, and truly authentic human beings.