What You Think of Me

We've been exploring many different aspects of feedback this semester: validating vs. praising vs. encouraging, highlighting talent vs. effort, considering how certain feedback may make us feel (and whether that encourages a fixed mindset or a growth mindset), and remembering to keep the singing separate from the singer. 

All of this seems to bring up another significant question: Why should I care what someone else thinks about my singing? I mean, isn't the whole point for us to develop our individual voices based on what we believe feels and sounds the best to each of us? If that's true, why do other people's opinions matter? How much should they influence our decisions about what we do with our own voices? 

This is an important question to entertain. I suppose we could consider two extremes. On one side, you could be so desperate for validation and guidance that you cognitively check out and just wait to be told what to do so you can blindly follow that advice. It's one thing to put trust in your mentors, but it's another thing to give them all the deciding power, replacing their preferences for your own. This can also create problems when you receive conflicting information and aren't sure which guidance you should follow. 

On the other side, you can be so dug in on your own perspectives that you can become closed off to potentially useful ideas. I had a mentor once encourage me to adopt an attitude of, "What you think of me is none of my business." Meaning, you can offer me advice, if you'd like, but I'm going to make my own decisions. Or, as Billy Joel says, "You can speak your mind, but not on my time." Self-confidence and clear goals are generally positive attributes, but they can also keep us myopic in our view and shut us off to effective advice.

Like most things in life, the ideal balance is probably somewhere in between the two extremes. I had a lesson with a student once who was experiencing "feedback fatigue" and feeling confused due to all the different perspectives and opinions he was getting on his performances (I believe this was in the lead-up to Senior Showcase). Different professors, friends, and family members all had thoughts about which skills he should be highlighting in his set and he wasn't sure which route to go. I reminded him that, despite all the perspectives, it was ultimately his decision. I even offered the "What you think of me is none of my business" advice I had received. He responded, "OK, but what about during an audition when what someone else thinks of me is the difference between getting the job and not getting it?" 

Yeah, OK. I see your point. 

Maybe we need some some tactics to help keep you from gravitating to one of the extremes if (when) you get to your own point of "feedback fatigue." First, you can ask yourself: Is the person doling out the advice "in the arena"? That's a phrase I borrowed from author and professor Brené Brown. Someone who is in the arena is actively engaged in the work, putting themselves out there, and opening themselves up to feedback (be it praise or ridicule). If someone is not doing that—being vulnerable with their creative work—they really have no room to give you advice when you're being vulnerable with yours. 

Second, is the final goal you are trying to achieve actually knowable? In the case of an audition, the knowable goal would seem to be landing the role. The unknowable part is what exactly the panel is looking for that will cause them to put you in the role instead of someone else. So consider whether the feedback you are receiving is actually aimed at achieving a knowable goal or trying to work too specifically toward an unknowable goal. 

Third, does the feedback you're receiving allow for your perspectives, goals, and desires? Actually, does the advice prioritize your perspectives, goals, and desires? Additionally, does it allow you to feel like you are bringing more of yourself to the work or does it make you feel like you're trying to be what someone else wants you to be? 

Of course, our thoughts and perspectives change over time. So, part of our job is to continually seek to know more about the field (study, listen, engage, practice, observe, reflect). The other part of our job is to continually explore and develop who we are, what we value, and what you want from life, as well as what you want from your career. The process, unsurprisingly, is largely the same: study, listen, engage, practice, observe, reflect. More on that in the final blog of the school year. 

As we near the end of the semester, consider using these questions to help you process feedback about performances, callbacks, or post-graduation next steps. 

Now go practice. 

Praise Further Revisited

This semester, we’ve been exploring aspects of augmented feedback (augmented meaning the feedback that comes from an external source like a teacher or a peer, as opposed to inherent feedback which is what you notice internally when you sing). Specifically, we've identified the differences between praise (“That was so good!” “You’re a great singer!”) and encouragement (“Your belt has really improved!” “I can really see the attention you have given to your expressive choices.”). 

In this blog, I want to dig in a bit more on praise. In The Musician’s Mind, author and pedagogue Lynn Helding presents some of the ideas of education scholar Alfie Kohn. In educational settings, Kohn criticizes the use of "goodies" like candy, praise, and financial rewards, to incentivize behavior. In his opinion, this practice has given rise to a generation of children who have never learned the joy of discovery or taken delight in learning for learning's sake. He believes it's partly because the use of incentives has made them addicted to the reward (including praise) rather than truly seeking to learn something new. As a result, he finds these individuals are less likely to take on an endeavor or pursue a goal unless there is some sort of reward—and usually a reward that can be earned fairly quickly (Helding, 6). 

As a Gen X kid, I don’t think that is necessarily how I was raised (it was before the era of participation trophies), but I know it played some part in my life. I was lucky to have parents who were incredibly supportive of all the activities my siblings and I participated in. They were a fixture in the stands at every game, meet, match, concert, and competition—home or away, 90 degrees and humid or nine degrees and snowy. I appreciated having them there and enjoyed the post-game-breakdown conversations we would have after each event, reliving both the highs and lows. 

When I decided to go to college in a different state, however, that changed. Since I still had a little brother at home, they were busy going to all of his events, supporting him as they had me. It took a lot more effort and planning to get to my events. I think that’s when I really had to decide who I was doing these things for. Was it just for the praise I received from them after the events or was it out of my own desire to pursue excellence and enjoyment in the activity? 

You may remember the growth mindset and fixed mindset ideas from psychologist Carol Dweck that I have brought up in blogs and in pedagogy class. Essentially, when you have a fixed mindset, you believe that people are born with “talent” and that you just are or are not good at something. If you don’t believe you are talented as a singer, it feels worthless to practice because you don't believe you would actually get better. But a growth mindset accepts that we are all capable of learning many skills. If you don’t feel particularly good at singing, you recognize that you can improve if you commit to working at it. 

Dweck believes that the feedback we offer to others (as peers, teachers, and even as parents) can either reinforce someone’s fixed mindset or lead them to take on more of a growth mindset. As she notes (once again, as described in The Musician’s Mind), when we offer feedback that emphasizes someone’s innate abilities or “talent” (“That was so good!” “You’re a great singer!”), it can reinforce a fixed mindset. In a way, it says, “You didn't have to work for this, it's just who you are.” If someone starts to believe that, it can have the strange effect of causing them not to work at building those skills. They tend to settle in and actually avoid challenges. Even though challenges ("desirable difficulties") are what help us to grow, someone in a fixed mindset just sees them as ways to potentially expose what they aren't already good at, which can then threaten their identities as "good" singers. As Helding states, 

"Children who have been stoked by tales of their natural talent and fed big dollops of praise tend to clutch that talent as a talisman, which wards off both effort (unnecessary anyway, due to the magic of their natural gifts) as well as failure. Nothing ventured, nothing gained—and neither pride nor face is lost. This kind of behavior leads to a double whammy for the fixed-mindset kid: unexposed to failure, he neither progresses very much nor develops any strategies to respond to inevitable failures in the future. And it seems that those who have been stroked the most often fall the hardest, even to the point of complete psychological collapse. This vicious cycle has been fittingly dubbed 'the inverse power of praise.'" (The Musician's Mind, 190-91)

Conversely, when we compliment someone's effort (“Your belt has really improved!” “I can really see the attention you have given to your expressive choices.”), it tends to reinforce the fact that conscious effort leads to results. It reminds them that they control their own vocal-skill destiny, which leads them to embrace challenges as a way to grow, instead of avoiding them as exposers of deficiencies. 

Once again, consider the augmented feedback you provide. Do you tend to compliment talent or effort? Do you reinforce that someone is good or do you acknowledge their progress on the journey? Consider also how you respond to feedback. When someone offers you a positive comment, does it inspire you to work harder or does it lull you into inaction? Maybe the type of feedback is a factor. 

Spring break is here! (Or almost here, depending on when you're reading this.) How have you been doing on the goals you set at the start of the semester or the start of the school year? What adjustments can you make to keep working toward progress?

Now go practice. 

Validation in Studio Class

With our first vocal workshop and studio classes coming up, this is a good time to talk about why we hold these classes every year. Yes, it gives you all performance opportunities. Yes, it's another chance to manage performance anxiety (stage fright) by singing in front of people. And, yes, it allows you to try out new rep or your jury set. 

There are other reasons, as well, that have been discussed in a couple of sources I've been pulling from this semester. Returning again to Matthew Benkert's Journal of Singing article "Building a Foundation of Trust in Vocal Pedagogy," he identifies a number of additional benefits these settings can offer. "Studio classes, when done with an eye toward collaboration, can increase students' self-confidence and enable vicarious learning when students serve as mentors to one another," he says. "A studio culture of empowerment can be created when voice pedagogues and peers validate each student's work." 

Obviously, theatre involves a lot of collaborative work already. There are elements that can be worked on individually, but that work is usually intended to be shared eventually. So it makes sense to have collaborative vocal settings, as well. Besides what students can learn when they are the ones performing and receiving feedback, I always love the "vicarious learning" that also happens in studio classes where you may see something that makes you think, "Hmm, I'm going to try that, too!" 

I also appreciate how Benkert mentions the self-confidence and empowerment that can occur when peers validate each other. This means your role in these classes is not just as an audience member who sits back and passively observes. The success of the class, and the improvement of your colleagues, depends on your engagement and your augmented feedback. 

Of course, the kind of feedback we give makes a big difference as to how it will be received. Which kind is most useful here? As Benkert says, self-confidence and empowerment increase when students offer feedback that serves to "validate" each student's work. I'm sure I could write an entire blog on the intricacies and implications of the word "validate" in a voice studio setting (note to future self...), but one of the official definitions is to "demonstrate or support the truth or value of." Essentially, to me, it's a recognition of what is before us. We don't have to offer corrections or suggestions—all we have to provide in order to validate is our positive observations. "This is what I saw." That allows the student to ask themselves, "Is that what I was trying to accomplish?" In this way, the exercise still promotes self-reflection by the singer and to consider whether or not they would like to change something. 

Of course, general audience feedback is often validating, as well. Comments like, "You have such a lovely voice!" and "Your performance was just beautiful!" can certainly be validating in the sense that they provide observations. But, they are also non-specific enough to risk being taken as praise, which I discussed in the last blog. 

As a reminder, Makiko Ueda pointed out that praise can help boost confidence and build rapport, so it does have a bit of a role. But in order to truly have a positive effect, it has to come from a place of sincerity and authenticity. Therefore, your job in studio classes is not to be fake or gushing in your comments if that is not what you feel. No one benefits when we just blow smoke. But, as we practiced in our Vocal Pedagogy class listening exercises, the first thing I would encourage us all to look for when we hear someone sing are the positive attributes. What is going well? What do you like? What is vocally efficient? What is artistically expressive? If you can't come up with something positive to say that is also sincere, that might be more reflective of your own limitations rather than that of the singer. 

Another helpful element of studio classes is the community they can help establish. For ideas on this concept, I'm returning to the new book Student-Centered Voice Pedagogy: Working with Students toward Developing Artistry, Authenticity, and Autonomy (Bloomsbury Academic, 2025). In particular, there is a chapter called "Coconstructing Your Own Curriculum: Promoting Student Agency and Individual Voice Development," written by voice pedagogues Jeanne Goffi-Fynn, Chris Citera, and Emily Hudson. They write: 

"...building a strong community in the classroom, rehearsal, or studio by singing together creates a shared experience of belonging and being a part of a community. This, in turn, is a powerful means to help students connect to each other and to society at large. These multiple aspects of student identity—as an individual, as part of a cultural heritage, as part of a community, as a global citizen—intersect and enhance one another, and thus it is a larger sense of belonging that informs and cultivates an overall sense of well-being among people." (p.174)

I don't delude myself into thinking that every student in our program is best friends with every other student. Naturally, I would assume that there are people with whom you generally have positive interactions and others with whom you may not get along at all. That's to be expected. So, studio class isn't necessarily intended to make you all best friends (although that can certainly occur). However, it is intended to give a group of people who are seeking the same thing (improved individual performance) a shared experience where we are all working toward that shared goal. It is that shared goal of helping everyone improve their individual performance through the means of positive validation that allows for a sense of belonging to develop and connecting among us to occur. 

Therefore, your observations, validations, and engagement are crucial not only to the goal of all students improving their skills but also to establishing connection and belonging. Passive observation cannot get us there. Engaged, positive engagement does. 

Think of how you may consider offering positive validations to your classmates and to yourself. 

Spring break is approaching—let's stay focused! 

Now go practice. 

Praise Revisited

Five years ago, I wrote a blog about praise—why we want it, how it makes us feel, and the role it can play in vocal training. According to multiple formal definitions, praise can be admiration, commendation, laudation, adulation, or approval offered toward another person.

There are lots of ways we can offer someone praise. "Good job!" "Atta way!" *pats on the head* "Here's $1,000,000!" 

As I wrote five years ago, praise of our singing can feel like an important part of our training. It helps us know we are improving and that what we are doing is effective. It also helps us know whether we are meeting a standard of success by earning the approval of our teachers, our peers, and our audiences. It can also help us know if we are meeting our own performance benchmarks, which can be a useful indication as to whether or not we are on track in reaching our goals. 

However, praise can have a downside, too, as reflected in a new book titled Student-Centered Voice Pedagogy: Working with Students toward Developing Artistry, Authenticity, and Autonomy edited by Jeanne Goffi-Fynn and Matthew Hoch. In a chapter called "Establishing Rapport," author Makiko Ueda highlights how praise can actually serve as a "roadblock" to progress by inhibiting our self-exploration. Citing the work of therapist Dr. Jane Nelsen, she makes a distinction between praise and encouragement. "Praise is to express a favorable judgment and expression of approval, and the locus of control is external: a student feels good only when the teacher approves" (31). "In contrast, encouragement is to inspire students; it helps them reflect upon their work and promotes self-evaluation. When students feel encouraged, they have a sense of ownership in their progress." (32) 

Ueda lists examples of praise: "You are a good musician." "You are such a good student." "I'm proud of you for passing the audition." 

She then notes how encouragement can differ from praise: "I appreciate your performance at the recital. It reflected your hard work this semester." "I noticed your trill has improved since last time. How did you go about practicing it?" "How do you feel about passing your audition?"

This isn't to say there is no place for praise in the voice studio. But there are qualifiers. As Ueda notes, "Praising students is helpful in building the student's confidence and rapport if it comes from a place of sincerity and authenticity. However, when praise is not based on actual merit, it can be problematic. Vague feedback such as 'good job' may contain a message of judgment—although it is positive—and does not provide a clear reason for the praise" (31). 

So it seems that, in order to be most useful, praise should be sincere (We can usually tell when it isn't, can't we?), specific ("Good job!" is not as helpful as "I appreciated how you were able to incorporate such effective use of dynamics."), and should inspire further commitment to the process. 

Don't get me wrong. Sometimes I'm happy just to hear a simple "Atta way!" But the good feelings from such a comment tend to fade pretty quickly and it offers no useful feedback that can lead to a next step. 

Think about the way you comment on others' performances. Do you tend to offer praise or encouragement? 

Now think about the way you comment on your own performances. Do you tend to offer praise or encouragement (or discouragement)? 

How has your practice been going, now that we're a full month into the semester? Have you been able to maintain your practice schedule or does it need some tweaks? 

Now go practice. 

Future-Focused Feedback

Last March, I wrote a blog called "How Does Feedback Make You Feel?," which considers the feedback we receive about our singing both from our teachers and from ourselves. Specifically, I asked you all to consider how you provide feedback to yourselves. Do you correct yourself gently, offering adjustments with kindness? Do you encourage yourself to keep trying with confidence that you can improve? Or are you "your own worst critic," giving yourself feedback laced with judgment and cruelty?

To continue the discussion on feedback, I'd like to return again to the article I cited in the last blog: "Building a Foundation of Trust in Vocal Pedagogy" by Matthew Benkert (Journal of Singing, January 2026). Relating to the feedback that students receive from their teachers, Benkert highlights that any perceived shaming of a student from a teacher (even if unintentional) can trigger a subconscious emotional response that can create an obstacle to learning. Interestingly (and, I suppose, unsurprisingly), students without a fully developed prefrontal cortex (like teenagers and young adults—i.e., college students!) are particularly prone to coping "less soundly" with negative feedback (Benkert, p.285). 

This is not just true of singers. Benkert notes a study where students outside of the arts had initial emotional reactions when receiving feedback in a face-to-face setting that was critical of their work (Hill, Healey, West, and Dery, 2021). As he states, "How much more so is this true of musicians who are offering their own voice for critique?" (p.285). I think we have all felt this at one point or another. As discussed in the last blog, since our voices are so personal to us, a critique of our vocal technique can feel like a critique of our selves. Even if we intellectually understand that is not what is happening, our bodies may still have an instant reaction to the critique that can make it more difficult to incorporate the feedback we receive in a positive way. 

So, how can we deal with this? How can we receive critical feedback in such a way that it doesn't send us into a negative emotional spiral? How can we instead get right to the work of incorporation and improvement? 

Well, some of that responsibility is on me (and all of your teachers). We have to be mindful of when and how we are providing feedback and what it is intended to bring about. If I am offering negative feedback—like simply pointing out something you didn't do so well—all that does is create an awareness of something you did poorly. This may help you know what you did wrong, but it also risks eliciting a negative response. 

Instead, I can right away offer potential tactics for increased performance on your next attempt. This gives you something to do the next time and does not just make you aware of something you maybe shouldn't have done the previous time. For example, if you crack on a high note, I could say something like, "You cracked on that high note." That probably doesn't help anything because you were likely already aware of that. It also doesn't offer you a solution. Instead, I could say something like, "You cracked on that high note because you were using too much subglottic breath pressure and failed to shift the dominant muscle from the thyroarytenoid to the cricothyroid as you increased your pitch." This comment certainly provides more information, but again offers no solution. 

A better response might be, "OK, what would happen if you take a smaller inhalation before singing that again? Also, as you go higher, could you imagine that you are still releasing air rather than feeling like you're holding it back?" These comments don't even acknowledge that anything went wrong, which may just be stating the obvious and could initiate an emotional spiral. Instead, they encourage exploration of new tactics, which may lead to improved performance. 

An even better response, especially for students in the second stage of learning, might be to ask, "What did you notice that time around?" This encourages students to engage with the process rather than wait for teachers to provide all the answers. After students have provided their own self-diagnosis, a follow-up question could be, "What do you think we could try that would make that phrase smoother?" Again, this encourages student engagement and involves them in finding solutions rather then dwelling on less-successful attempts. 

As Benkert writes, "The goal should be feedback with a future-focused message, where the student is empowered as an active participant in their learning. This creates an avenue for them to regulate emotional signals as they work toward future professional goals, such as reinterpreting their emotional reaction to an unsuccessful audition rather than dwelling in negativity." (p.285). 

The best news about all of this is that it's a process you can use in the practice room, too. Try something. If it doesn't go as well as you'd have liked, try to identify what could be improved. Then strategize solutions. Then try something different. Consider what "future-focused" feedback you can provide yourself, instead of getting stuck in the moment of failure. 

In what other area of your life might a "future-focused" approach benefit you?

Now go practice. 

Separating the Singer from the Singing

Happy New Year! Let's get right to it. 

Usually my first blog of each semester focuses on some aspect of goal setting. As we know, having specific goals (not too vague) that are achievable (just outside of your current capabilities) and written down (not just kept in mind) is a reliable way to move toward improved performance. Let's talk in your lessons about what specific technical and artistic goals you may want to work toward this semester. 

For this first blog of 2026, I was encouraged by an article in the most recent Journal of Singing to consider making an additional goal for the semester. In a piece titled, "Building a Foundation of Trust in Vocal Pedagogy," author Matthew Benkert explores how our identities as singers can become intertwined with our feelings of self worth. As such, negative feedback about our vocal performance can be taken as criticism of who we are as people. This is something I'll discuss further in a later blog. To help prevent this from happening, Benkert suggests working to create a positive environment in voice lessons such that "the singing is separated from the singer." Why? As he says, "Without acknowledging and valuing the student for their humanity, there is little chance the student will value themselves, particularly when receiving feedback in a vulnerable learning environment." 

So, how can we create a healthy separation of our voices from our selves? Benkert offers some advice: "First, it is important that the student be treated as an individual first, then as a musician." Although this applies to how teachers relate to their students, it also applies to how we treat ourselves. We all have a multiplicity of identities, all of which intersect in unique ways that contribute to who we are. We all have values and ideals, morals and guiding principles that influence how we see ourselves in the world and that inform how we behave. In my case, I identify as a husband, son, sibling, friend, citizen, mentor, teacher, and, yes, singer (among other things). I'm a work in progress in all of these areas. I can recognize times when I have not been as good of a son or friend as I could have been, just as I can recognize times when I have not been as good of a teacher or singer as I am capable of. Those instances don't make me a bad person—they make me a PERSON. Building relationships takes time and attention, just like building vocal skills. And there is no final destination to reach, since we are always evolving. 

When you step into your voice lessons, you don't stop being all the various parts of who you are. You bring that along with you, which is exactly what you should do. I have often said that your voice is not your art. It's only the vehicle through which you bring your art to an audience. Your LIFE is your art. When you live a life of openness, curiosity, conversation, exploration, and relationship, you build a reservoir of deep experiences (both positive and negative) that form who you are. Once you know who you are and who you want to be, and determine the values that stem from each of your identities, you tend to act accordingly. 

The amalgamation of these experiences (who you are) is what you bring to your performances—not just your vocal capabilities. In fact, in my opinion, the only reason to cultivate and build our vocal capacities is so that we are better able to communicate what we know and feel in our hearts. If forced to choose, I would always rather watch a performance of someone with a less-polished voice expressing something heartfelt than someone with pristine tones who doesn't have much to say. 

Of course, as we all know, our vocal instruments certainly do require both training and care, especially if we are to build sustainable careers. But, if we become bound to our voices in such a way that it keeps us from having relationships and experiences, it comes at the expense of developing our artistry (our lives). 

The good news is that you don't have to abandon your routine and your schedule in order to seek out life-altering experiences so that you might build an artistic life. Mother Teresa is credited with having said, “Not all of us can do great things, but we can do small things with great love.” Every day we are surrounded by opportunities to have meaningful experiences (or to be the impetus for meaningful interactions). All we have to do is be open to them and have the courage to pursue them. 

So, alongside establishing some goals to help build your technique and creativity this semester, what are some goals you have to build your artistry? In other words, how can you be more intentional about making the experiences of your days and your relationships with others more meaningful and, thus, your life more of a work of art? 

Let's have a great semester. 

Now go practice. 

Pursuing the performing arts

World-renowned opera singer Renée Fleming is concerned about how I sleep at night. 

OK, that's not exactly true. But she offered some strong opinions on performing arts education earlier this summer at the Voice Foundation Annual Symposium in Philadelphia. Here's what she said: 

Given the climate right now for opera and classical music performance—which is what I know—I think there are far too many universities and colleges taking money from young people who shouldn’t be. I’m sorry, but it’s true. And what’s criminal about it is that . . . I mean, somebody recently said to me there should be an antitrust suit. These kids will all have debt—terrible debt—when they get out of school.

I used to give master classes at small schools—I don’t anymore—but I’ve done it. And sure, there’s the occasional miraculous talent. But even those students, if they don’t get on the right track quickly, by their late 20s, the possibilities start to decline significantly.

And then I hear people who really have no business majoring in voice—but the schools take them anyway. I once asked someone at a major conservatory, “How do you sleep at night?” I know that was a bit harsh. But he said, “Well, you know, a lot of people use that degree to go on and then major in something else.” And I thought, Wow. Given what secondary education costs, that’s a bit rich.

I know that this is what she said because I was there when she said it. Literally, I took this picture (that's her on the right): 

As often happens at these conferences, you take in a lot of information and hear some big ideas. But, as also happens, the daily schedule is so packed that you can't linger too long on any one presentation because there are so many others to get to. So, I remember having some thoughts on what she said, and I had a brief discussion with some colleagues as to their thoughts, but then we moved on. 

A couple of months later, however, author Norman Lebrecht published Ms. Fleming's comments on the classical music website Slipped Disc. After that, it was widely shared on social media, which really got people talking. 

First of all, I have a tremendous amount of respect and admiration for Ms. Fleming. I have seen her perform live many times (in operas and in concerts) and I own several of her CDs (yes, CDs) that I still hang on to even though most of those recordings are available digitally now. So when she speaks about her experience as a professional in the industry, I generally listen. But, of course, people can have different opinions. 

Second, it's important to note that she is talking about people who study classical performance in college. Classical music audiences have been shrinking for some time. Tuition at many of what are recognized as top conservatories is usually quite high. So it is wise to consider the full value of that education and the prospects of professional success, which are often less guaranteed for performance majors than for those who choose other fields. So cost/benefit considerations are a crucial factor when making such a big decision as where to go to college and what to major in. 

If Ms. Fleming has run into people who are essentially guaranteeing students that they will have performing careers, or misleading them about their potential for success (though that can be difficult to determine when someone is 18 years old, especially when it comes to the voice), then I agree that it would be reckless (or even possibly "criminal," as she says) to make such claims. As we all know, abilities are only one component of sustained success in this field. No one should say, "If you come study at this school, you will have a performing career." 

I do take some issue with a few of her comments, however, that undeniably come from my experience (and probably my bias and privilege). I went to a small school for college. To be sure, I have not had anywhere close to the performing experience that Ms. Fleming has had (literally, not even 0.001%). But I also know that my education at that small school absolutely prepared me for my career in music and theatre (humble though it may be), as did my other two degrees in performance (only one of which was from a big conservatory). So I tend to think that even those of us without "miraculous talent" deserve to pursue the field we want and see where it may lead. 

I also understand her concern that college administrators might accept someone with less "talent" into a performing arts degree with the justification that they will probably also major in something else. It seems the assumption is that they will ultimately pursue other career paths. That can feel disingenuous. As university employees, we must be honest about what the field looks like and we have to help students assess their capabilities and their progress in relation to the general expectations of professional success. 

However, I also believe that arts education should be available for everyone who wants to pursue it—especially if they have the volition, desire, and willingness to put in the effort (and get some good sleep as best they can). I believe in this because of the way arts education forms human beings while also, yes, making them eminently employable in a variety of fields. 

As I blogged last year at this time, artists learn and practice empathy and authentic communication, and must have a willingness to be vulnerable. Through their performances, artists bring examples of deep beauty and true strength to audiences, which goes beyond mere entertainment or distraction. These skills are desperately needed both in our society and in our places of employment. 

Of course, not everyone needs to go to college. And there are lots of problems with higher education, the most obvious being that it is way too expensive. At the prices many schools are charging, students (and parents) should want to know what skills, opportunities, and jobs that high-priced education might provide. After all, landlords don't accept sonnets in place of rent. It would be wonderful to spend your college years discussing great books, learning world history, creating art, and (even more importantly) building relationships with people who will support you, challenge you, love you, and help you see the world differently. But bills don't wait. 

That being said, if someone wants to study the performing arts, I don't think they should be told they have "no business" pursuing that major. Certainly, both risks and benefits should be considered, and taking on debt that would be prohibitive over a lifetime should probably be avoided. But this is a field worth pursuing, which can provide both a good living and a good life. 

I'm sleeping just fine. 

I'm looking forward to this homestretch of the semester. What final touches are you still hoping to bring to your performances? 

Much love.

-brian