At the end of every semester, my teacher likes to sit down and discuss the year behind us and make a plan for the year in front of us. It's a very useful conversation, usually filled with exciting new ideas and possibilities for the coming semester and perspective on things that didn't go as planned.
A lot of things didn't go as planned this year. I met a fantastic pianist who has an addiction to high notes and therefore desires to give many recitals with me, and we have a wonderful time collaborating on some fantastic repertoire. I went to New York, care of the Marilyn Horne Foundation, and sang on a masterclass with some of the best young singers across the country, and I got to meet the lady herself. I went to the Metropolitan Opera for the first time. I was admitted into my first summer program, and I'm going to be beating my head against Gilda for the next two months and I think it's going to be fantastic.
I also learned to prioritize my education. Since I entered school in 1984 (don't bother doing the math), my success in the classroom has been top priority. This has, almost always, been congruent with my personal pursuits, my career pursuits, and my goal-oriented sense of accomplishment. I'm a good student, I don't shy away from theory or musicology, and I enjoy a good challenge. In our year-end review, my teacher noted that this year had a lot to do with shifting my focus from my degree to my career. What does this mean, exactly?
It means that, while I will continue to tenaciously pursue the reform of the DMA, my happiness no longer depends upon it. I have made the decision to not allow this degree, its requirements, or its warden - I hesitate to use the term advisor - control my state of mind or my success. Whether or not I am considered an asset to the program is immaterial. When I graduate, I will be a walking and talking advertisement for NEC, and all of its parts. People will ask me about my experiences and, as most of our readers know, I am not one to shy away from telling the truth.
There is so much potential in this conservatory. So many resources untapped, so many faculty past their prime occupying the spaces that should be taken by young, vibrant musicians. So many old world philosophies that say "this is how we've always done it," philosophies that only hinder the progress of conservatory students. And so many possibilities for greatness. This is why we write the letters and have the meetings and get reputations as the squeaky wheel. Because the scholars and performers of the next generation deserve more, and NEC deserves the opportunity to take its place as one of the great music schools in the US. To shake the dust off the procedures and say, "we're an educational institution in the 21st century, and we have some serious music-making to do."
So that, my friends, is the year in review. This is not a spectator sport - your education is only truly yours if you've got skin in the game.