Proud of your boy

I have a confession to make. I have a hard time saying, "I'm proud of you." 

This doesn't stem from some deep emotional baggage (at least, I don't think it does) or from any resentment that I never heard those words enough from my parents, teachers, coaches, or anyone else whose approval I was seeking. I just don't always like to say it because of what it could be construed to mean. 

The Cambridge Dictionary defines "proud" as "feeling pleasure and satisfaction because you or people connected with you have done or gotten something good." When it comes to all of you, my dear students, I absolutely feel tremendous pleasure and satisfaction when you have done or gotten something good. That might be something big, like a contract for a professional gig, or something more everyday, like a small but significant step forward in your technique. It could also be a personal victory, like you had to do something difficult and just went ahead and did it despite your fears (regardless of the outcome). Witnessing those things definitely makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. So that part of the definition holds true. 

As the definition also states, the pleasure and satisfaction of feeling proud comes because of our connection to another person. If you meet an actor for the first time after seeing a show, you might say, "I really enjoyed your performance," but you probably wouldn't say, "I'm really proud of you for giving such a great performance." Without a connection to that person, that phrase seems out of place. When I was discussing this in a masterclass this semester, Julie said that her dentist tells her he is proud of her for doing such a good job flossing—which feels just a little weird. 

Here's where I balk: If my being proud of someone is dependent on a connection with that person, in a teacher-to-student scenario, it can feel like I'm trying to accept some of the credit for your success. "I'm proud of you for giving such a great performance" could read as "This is my accomplishment, too." 

Now, I can fully acknowledge my role as teacher and the influence that exists in any teacher-student relationship. But, as my thoughts on this role continue to evolve, I know that I am not here to mold you, shape you, form you, or in any other way infuse my technique, artistry, or expressive preferences into you. (I hope you all understand that.)

My role is to facilitate your vocal and artistic development, flexibility, and independence. My job is to co-explore ways to allow your skills to serve your expressive ideas. My goal is to help identify your goals and investigate the many paths that may allow you to reach them (even as those goals shift or change). We work on all of that in micro ways in the studio so that you can do it in macro ways in your life outside the studio. If you leave our lessons more capable and more confident in making a variety of choices, then our collaborative studio research has been a success. 

The other part of "I'm proud of you" that troubles me is that there can be a sense that you have to do something for me to be proud of you. If I only say "I'm proud of you" when you accomplish something, that could start to feel like your accomplishments are what make you worthy, valued, or loved. That's conditional love, which, I would argue, isn't really love. I would rather never use the phrase "I'm proud of you" than give any of you the impression that your significance as a person is measured by your accomplishments. That's something I simply cannot and will not risk. 

This is stated particularly well by voice professor, operatic countertenor, and finalist on The Voice, John Holiday. In an interview for Classical Singer by Peter Thoresen, he shares what he tells every student in his studio: 

"You don't have to do anything to gain my love and you don't have to do anything to gain me being proud. I'm already proud of you. Now let's work, because everything else is just going to be building on top of that. And you're not doing it for me. You're doing it for yourself. And you're doing it for your ancestors, and you're doing it for your family—and for you, hopefully." 

Here's one way these ideas have played out in my own life. In 2011, one of my mentors from my doctoral studies, Professor Paul Kiesgen, died of a terminal illness. To help my own grieving process, I wrote a memorial essay that focused on the lessons I learned from him, and Classical Singer published it. Here's an excerpt: 

In the years since I finished school and left campus, I hadn’t stayed in touch with Professor Kiesgen the way I had planned. As a teacher myself, I didn’t want to intrude on his attention and deprive his new students of the opportunity to learn from him as I had. So I would check in on occasion and always enjoy our brief but pleasant exchanges, picking up where we left off. I know that part of me was also waiting to land a big and splashy job or to have some other monumental career opportunity that I could share with him to confirm the confidence he had in my abilities, which always seemed to surpass my own.

Sadly, his passing has reminded me of yet another important lesson...

Music, and musicians, must communicate.

If we’re not communicating, if we’re focused too much on accomplishment, or if we’re too caught up in the minutiae of our own lives to stay in touch with others, we’re missing the point. 

I'm sure Prof. Kiesgen would be proud of what I'm doing with my career. I'm also sure that, way back then, when I was wanting to do something to make him proud, he was already proud of me. 

Seniors, we're about to wrap up the current version of our school-sponsored co-explorations. As you move on from here, if you ever stop to think, "I wonder if Brian is proud of me?" let me answer that for you right now, despite any misgivings I may have just articulated. 

I am proud of what you have done over these four years (starting with a year of online lessons, no less!). 

I am proud of who you were, how you have changed, and who you are becoming. 

I am excited to see where you are headed, whether that remains in theatre or pivots to an entirely different field. 

But mostly, I am just so proud of YOU (and my connection to you allows me to say that). I hope you're proud of you, too. 

Thanks for allowing me to be part of your journey. Do stay in touch.

Much love,

-brian