The other day I was teaching a virtual lesson with a long time student. He’s a good kid. This is the kind of student who isn’t a real strong practicer, not super motivated to work or learn music or his instrument, but yet, he shows up! There is tremendous value in showing up, it is commendable behavior and discipline for sure, and I try to encourage him to that end every week—though I could probably do it even more so even as I write this, I am reminding myself. But what really got me thinking as I listened to him play, listened to him talk, watched his facial expressions, and even listening as I heard him share about his school days, how tired he was…. This is s kid who probably doesn’t fit in that well at school. I get that. I didn’t fit in that well in school. A lot of band, orchestra, and choir kids don’t fit in that well in school. But they are welcomed in the music community and often find a place of belonging in music.

I remember at least a handful of times when I was in junior high (this was before we had middle schools in this area), sitting in the dark in a practice room in the middle of the day in the band hall. There was no band class going on. I should have been in whatever class I was to be in at the time of course, but I wasn’t. I was in a practice room in the band hall, because I didn’t want to be in class. Who knows what was going on in my heart and mind at the time, but I know I felt at least safer, somehow better, somehow more at peace, in the band hall. My teacher, an amazing woman, teacher, and musician by the name of Gail Phillips, was a very sensitive and compassionate woman. Somehow she got me to come out of the practice room and into the band hall. I don’t even remember what she said. Probably, knowing her, not much, but just enough. It was probably something like, hey, why don’t you come out here. There’s no band class going on. We will just hang. And I came out, and hang we did.

We would talk, mostly she would just ask me what’s going on, and I would listen. I probably didn’t say much, but I always felt like I could. Honestly, while I love music and music, hold multiple degrees, have significant experience in music study, professional playing, recording, touring, and teaching—it is quite possible that more than music itself, in the beginning, it was the belonging that drew me and held me in music more than anything else. I see so many students today that need that. They need a place to feel welcome. They need a teacher/mentor who will love them, accept them, encourage them, push them a bit when needed, challenge them, but always give them a place to belong. For many kids, music and the community of it may be uniquely fit and the only thing that provides that. Does your child or teen need that? We are here for that.