By Sarah J. Catt, Elmhurst University
This feature was originally published in the Fall 2020 Illinois Music Educator Journal.

“It’s like we’ve survived on an island for so long. Not even knowing why you’re the outcast, but feeling certain that you are.”
- Daniella Valdez

Do you ever feel as if you are on your own island as a music educator at your school? Or perhaps as if you are the only person in your building who understands the struggles of your position? Perhaps in these moments of loneliness as music educators, you turn to close colleagues and organizations like ILMEA to find understanding, empathy and advice. Perhaps you share similar stories and backgrounds and as a result, feel better knowing that even if you are alone in your building, you are not alone in our field.

But what if you really do feel alone in this field?

What if you are the only person or one of a few people who looks like you and teaches what you teach in Illinois?

What if you are a music educator of color?

In July 2020, I brought together a panel of music educators from across the state who identify as people of color:

This panel includes music educators of color who are somewhere in the middle of their careers. I brought together band, choir, orchestra and general music specialists who work with a wide range of age groups. These educators have already made significant impacts on music education across the years, but they also have many years of important contributions to come. Before forming this panel, some were already my friends, some were friendly acquaintances and some were complete strangers. This inspiring group of educators engaged in conversations about race and music education. We shared our successes, failures, experiences with discrimination and our collective determination to fight injustice through music. This article would not have taken shape without their influence and wisdom.

The age of COVID-19 and the Black Lives Matter movement has brought about a new wave of activism. Our collective message is intended for all music educators, for those who have already made the decision to combat injustice within our field, but also for those who aren’t sure how they feel about current social movements; for those who feel empowered to use their voices and platforms, but also for those who don’t currently see value in their own voices; and perhaps most importantly, for all of those who care about their students, hear us out.

Now is the time to re-envision music education, because we can do better.

We live in a world where we feel that little is in our control, but we would like to remind music educators that we have an incredible power in our hands - MUSIC. What is in our control, what requires philosophical and systemic change, what can change within our lifetimes is the music education that we provide our students. We are at a time when we can get back to the purpose behind our music-making. We can admit that so many unquestioned practices, norms and pressures existing in our field should be retooled to better serve our new population of students, who look different than they did decades ago. We can admit that prejudice and implicit bias are not just society’s problems. They exist within our field as well.

First, we ask you to consider the following statements of privilege in relation to music. As you read and reflect upon your own background, consider the relatability or lack of relatability to your own experiences. We encourage you to also consider how musicians who don’t look like you might react to these statements. These statements are intended for all music educators - whether you identify as white or as a person of color - as part of our individual reflection and understanding of selves. We believe that such reflection will allow all of us, including this panel, to better understand the individual privileges and biases that we bring to the table when working with students.

Growing up...

I regularly saw students in my performing ensembles who looked like me.
I had music teachers who looked like me.
I was taught music using my first language.
I had a piano or keyboard in my home.
I had a space to practice in my home without being disturbed or disturbing others.
My family was able to purchase or rent my musical instrument.
My family was able to provide consistent transportation to and from events, concerts, rehearsals and lessons.
My family was able to afford private lessons prior to college.
My family was able to attend my concerts.
My teacher was able to communicate effectively with my parents.

In my pursuit of music education...

My parents supported my decision to pursue music education.
I attended professional music performances before college.
I was not concerned about college application fees.

I did not feel restricted by the distance to colleges and universities. Traveling to college auditions, no matter the distance, was not a concern for me.

As a music educator...

My musical expertise has never been questioned by the community I serve based on the color of my skin.
If I make a mistake in my job, I know people will not attribute my actions to “flaws” or other “characteristics” from my race or ethnicity.
I have never felt feared, unwanted or othered in our field, based on the color of my skin.
I can find people from my racial and/or ethnic background well-represented in our field.
I have never been asked to speak in representation of my racial or ethnic identity.
Music by and about my racial and/or ethnic background is widely represented in our field.

“One of the things I’m grateful for with this group of people is the way it can make you think about your own life, the privileges you’ve had along the way and the challenges that you didn’t remember you had along the way.” -Eric Esparza

I had the privilege of sharing in over 7 hours of group video conferences, individual phone conversations and written correspondence with these incredible music educators. I chose to share direct quotes and excerpts from our conversation for a significant portion of this article, as I believe this will provide more authentic and powerful insights.

Face of your race

Have you ever felt as if you were a representative of your race or ethnicity within our field of music?

Mona: I identify as a first-generation East Indian-American. Growing up, I never saw South Asian music educators. I often found myself explaining why I chose a path that wasn’t “typical” or what people would stereotype me to be. People look at me and think, “You’re not going to be a doctor? You’re not going to be an engineer?” Pursuing music was simply not common. I always had to justify why I became a music teacher and express my pride for this profession. I want my students to see such paths for themselves too, no matter their background.

Patrick: As a Black man, I am always representing my race. I went to Bowling Green State University in the ‘80s. I was the drum major and also the only Black person in the marching band. That was the first time I realized that I really have to step up and represent my race. Most recently, with the murder of George Floyd and the Black Lives Matter movement, I’m called upon all the time to represent my race, to answer questions and to help white people figure things out.

Roosevelt: I travel a lot speaking and working with bands and 99% of the time, the bands do not look like me. Most of the time, the directors and presidents of organizations bring me out because they want to bring more people of color to their states and bands. In some cases, I was the first person of color that the students have ever encountered. So whenever I leave my building or my home, I’m thinking about representation.

Richard: As a Black male choral director in the Chicago Public Schools, I find it disappointing that I am one of very few [Black male music educators] in the system. During the course of my career as a music teacher, this situation has not improved much. Even in 2020, even in a city as large as Chicago, even in organizations that I’m a part of, I often find myself being the only Black male present.

Several educators felt that they represented more than one population.

Eric: I identify as a Latinx male. I identify as a gay man. I do my best to represent both of these communities through music. I try to use the power of music to combat othering. I don’t see as many Hispanic conductors or singers as I would like to see, so I’m trying to do my part to be visible and to be someone who not only encourages those with whom I identify, but to all music students.

Daniella: Being Latina was not something I shared vocally and openly, and that is now something that has changed. I want the kids to know that I am Latina. Even if the orchestra doesn’t look like me, I do this because I am Latina. Now that I’ve had this shift in my mind, I feel I am representing the Latinx population and I’m representing women. I want to share with all of my students that they can be a conductor, they can be a musician, they can be an educator, they can be contributors to their society in whatever way they choose.

Like it or not, music educators from minority populations often become ambassadors for their communities and identities. One’s actions are inextricably linked to the few other people who also look like them. We shared many stories in our conversations about what it means to sometimes serve as “the face of your race” in music. Nobody should feel the weight of serving as the face of their race. We can do better.

Racial conflict in music

“I had to defend myself.”

Daniella: [In a former position] I had to defend myself to the administrators. I had to defend myself to the parents of the community. I had to defend my English. I had to defend that I did go to the universities I went to. I had to defend that I had degrees in what I teach. The parents [of the community] questioned everything. Would they have questioned me if I looked different? No, it only matters because my last name is Valdez and because of the way that I look.

Calesia: I had a couple of parents who didn’t realize I was the music teacher [because I am Black]. And they don’t say it. But I did have one parent say, “I don’t want my kid to learn hip-hop or rap.” You know, that wasn’t part of my curriculum, but also, all music is music.

Richard: When some parents see me, they sometimes will react [through actions and words] with, “I know about the choral program [at Kenwood Academy HS], but I didn’t realize he was the director.” I have been bold enough to talk to those parents to let them feel more at ease. Now, would I have to do that if I were white? Probably not, but I’m willing to do what it takes to make the situation better.

“I didn’t look like what they were expecting.”

Sarah: Before my first year teaching, I had a phone interview [with no video] for a choral teaching position in a rural area made up of a primarily white community population. They almost seemed ready to offer me the job over the phone, but said they felt the “need to be official with an in-person interview.” They offered me a final interview on a Friday, but when I mentioned a scheduling conflict, they offered to come in on a Sunday just for me. When I got out of my car, their faces fell. I guess I didn’t look like what they were expecting. They did not offer me the position or call me back.

Tara: When I interviewed for my job, I worked with one of the bands and they also let the kids ask me questions. I remember a student looked at me and asked, “Are you sure you’re tough enough to teach me marching band?” She had never imagined someone who looked like me, for whatever reason, doing this job.

Skin color causes more conflict in our field than we are willing to recognize or admit. Our goal in sharing some of these stories is not to point fingers; rather, we hope that these stories will remind people that prejudice in music education is real and persistent. The experiences above came from moments outside of our teaching. Music educators of color are challenged in their ability to teach students effectively even before the teaching has begun, even before the work can speak for itself. In all of these examples, music educators of color were expected to fail. Is this what we want moving forward? We can do better.

Empower our future

“Be unapologetically yourselves.”

Rebecca: Fifty percent of the students I teach are Black. One year, I had this powerhouse group of 11 girls in our a cappella group. [I told them] we are not going to look like some of the other schools up there. My message was, “I want you to just represent. I don’t want you to filter yourselves. Go up there and be unapologetically yourselves. You’re going to walk off that stage and everyone is going to want to be you.” Those girls got 2nd at that quarterfinal and so many kids came up and praised them. It all came down to sitting down with those girls and asking, “What would you feel good about performing?” Oftentimes, students, especially students of color, are left out of that conversation. It became this really beautiful moment where they were themselves and they were celebrated for it.

Marlyn: I had a group violin lesson with a mix of English speakers and native Spanish speakers. When my student struggled with English, I would speak Spanish with them. I began to get pushback from other students about how I shouldn’t be speaking Spanish in lessons, but I nipped it in the bud. By the end of the school year, these “anti-Spanish” speakers were able to speak common phrases and the students who struggled with English were soaring on the violin. I’m really lucky that I can go back and forth fluently in both languages to help students change their minds and learn to accept each other.

“Thank you for telling my son that he can do
anything.”

Calesia: It was my first day at my second job. He [a Black male student] came up to me wanting to quit band. I said, “Give me a chance.” He said, “No, I didn’t like the last teacher, or the teacher before that and I’m pretty sure I’m not going to like you.” Keep in mind, I’m the only Black thing that has probably walked into that building in years...Long story short, he decided to keep doing band. And he did band in high school too. He became section leader his senior year. [Years later] his mom shared, “I want to thank you for telling my son that he can do anything. He has never really heard that before.”

Roosevelt: This past January at IMEC, there was a young African-American man walking around with a cello by himself. In a sea of individuals that didn’t look like myself, I saw one young man that looked like me. I felt obligated to sit down with him and tell him how proud I was of him. I was once a student at the all-state conference playing tuba. There were very few of us. As a Black man, I was proud to see this young Black man representing those who couldn’t be there. When we’re in this type of atmosphere, these students need to know that they have support because chances are they are not getting it from the organization as a whole.

Ask students to teach us.

Daniella: I’ve always been teased for how I say my name because I say my name with my accent. When I’m learning my kids’ names, I want to hear them say their names with their accents. I want to hear my Indian kids say their names fully. I want my Filipino kids to share their backgrounds. I want to empower them with their names. They’ll say, “It’s hard to say,” and I’ll say, “It’s okay. You’ll teach me.” Just that little thing with their names, it does a whole lot.

Mona: I once got to work with a first-generation student from Nigeria. We were working on Tshotsholoza, a South African traditional song that eventually evolved into a symbol of freedom and unity following the Apartheid era. One day he shared, “My dad sang this. He told me it goes like this. He told me he sang this with his friends. He told me I could do it better and showed me how.” [From then on] I followed my student’s lead with nuances and phrasing that was organic to the way his father told him. He ended up getting the solo. His influence enriched the performance for all of us.

Growing up feeling different than peers, solely based on the color of one’s skin, can be overwhelming, confusing and frustrating. When a teacher sees students for who they are and empowers them in recognition of their unique background, there are few things in education more powerful. Increased awareness of culturally responsive education in today’s society is not enough unless we put these ideas into practice. Something as simple as learning a name correctly can mean everything to students. Empowering our students is already a choice, but we must also choose to learn from, understand and empower the students who don’t look like us. We can do better. In fact, we can ALL do better.

Shared complicity

“I chose to stay quiet.”

Sarah: When I first began teaching, an administrator once asked me what to do to recruit more “quality” students because they noticed that even though my program numbers were going up, I was attracting a lot of students from “troubled” populations. By “quality,” they meant white and by “troubled” they meant certain students of color. I stayed quiet. Looking back, I can think of a lot of times when I chose to stay quiet.

Roosevelt: With my students throughout the years, we’ve experienced people calling us the ‘N-word’ quite a bit. My first year teaching, we were at a competition. We wore polo shirts because that was all we could afford at the time. Everybody else at the competition had concert gowns. My band was walking in a straight line down the hall. The other band was walking in the opposite direction. A group of girls commented on one of my girl’s outfits, “Is that all you have to wear?” and began laughing. My student went ballistic and wanted to fight. My first reaction was to run to my student, yelling at her about her behavior. I never checked in with the other band director. I walked away. I was 25 at the time. I was dealing with my own emotions around the situation. That was my defense mechanism. I’m feeling terrible inside, so let me take it out on my student, when she had every right to be upset at the situation. That night, I made up my mind to never let that happen again. My students shouldn’t have to tolerate those things. I should empower them to speak up.

Eric: I have at times unwittingly supported institutionalized racism in academia and classical music. I didn’t stand up and say “that was a racist statement” immediately after hearing offensive remarks. As a junior faculty member who had not yet received tenure, I didn’t feel empowered to say something. But that’s also what empowers me to fight harder now. When conductors say, “Check your baggage at the door and come in with your instrument and be amazing,” there can be a dehumanization in that. It’s especially bad for students of color, who have their own set of challenges and feel everything more acutely and intensely. I think I let students down when I support structures that aren’t healthy for them.

Music educators have shied away from naming the injustices that exist in our field for too long. Everyone has their biases, albeit to varying degrees, but the group of educators in this article admit our complicity too. We know we can grow. More than ever, now is the time to name racism, discrimination and othering because many of us have been ingrained with injustice for so long that we fail to recognize it. If we don’t recognize it, name it and act upon it, our field of music education will remain stagnant and become increasingly irrelevant. We will not grow. We can do better, but it takes a village.

Let’s all do this

“I’ve been doing this for many years. The conversation continues, but when are we actually going to get something done?” -Richard Nunley

Teacher representation matters.

Patrick: I think the mere fact that I am Black empowers my Black students in the orchestra. Almost all of my Black students feel safe in my space. I think it speaks a lot to the movement to get more Black educators, Latinx educators and Asian educators.

Sarah: An incredible former high school student of mine, who identifies as an African-American young woman, wrote her college essay about how I was her first teacher of color in 12 years of public education. She shared that no teacher before had understood and empathized with her, but that because I was a person of color, I could understand her. She shared that she wanted to go into music education so she could give students the safe space that I gave her. While I was incredibly touched by her sentiments, I also felt awful when thinking about this. Because in reality, I don’t understand what it is to be Black in America and she deserves to have a teacher who does.

Tara: I’m half Mexican and half Italian. In my professional life outside the classroom, I’ve definitely leaned on my Italian last name, in hopes that it could easily explain away my darker skin. Culturally I was raised Mexican and that side of me is much more apparent inside the classroom. When I tell a story about a loud Italian family dinner, I see smiles and a few nods around the room from students who can relate. But students are not surprised to meet an Italian teacher. When I start a story sharing that I grew up with a strict Mexican mom, I see a physical transformation in many of my students. They sit up, they light up and become unusually attentive. Based on the number of times that I’ve experienced this, I know that it’s real. I believe that when students can relate to a teacher culturally, the impact of this is far greater than many of us realize. Myself included.

Musical representation matters.

Richard: Try as much as possible to have students be able to see a little bit of their culture in your repertoire. The parents are sometimes really shocked that we perform music that relates to their culture.That’s a big plus for making your group more cohesive.

Abby: I work in a Spanish dual-language school. I go to my native Spanish speaking colleagues to ask what music I should teach in my classroom. I also send home family questionnaires to gather song requests and to learn about families’ musical backgrounds. I learned so much about my students’ families just from sending home a survey and being willing to ask the questions.

Patrick: Music education by design in the United States is very Eurocentric. That means sometimes getting away from Bach, Beethoven and Mozart. And I teach orchestra!

Mona: It’s not just what you program, it’s what you don’t program too. Can students see themselves within the repertoire? We need to use music as a window into other people’s experiences and be really intentional about our teaching. If we don’t have a diverse population, what do we do to thoughtfully expose students outside of our own little bubble?

Daniella: I try to use the music that we do have and bring in a social justice component. I try to pull in students’ perspectives, even if the piece was composed 200, 300 years ago. I did a Shostakovich piece and incorporated the social justice component into the lesson. I try to show that these composers wrote this music for a reason. I should be programming more music from a diverse range of composers and I hope we get more people composing and arranging. But sometimes I choose my repertoire based on what social aspects I can bring into the teaching.

Eric: I think a big part of moving forward has to be commissioning and building up young composers to show them they can compose. Also, if you are going to do repertoire that represents a community of people, try to find a composer from that community.

Redefine our understanding of “The Expert.”

Calesia: We need to tap into what students already know. When my students walk into my classroom, I don’t see them as an empty cup. They are a cup full of something, but I don’t know what it is and it’s my job to figure it out.

Richard: Teachers should take more time to consider authentic performance of repertoire, especially with Black music, subgenres of Black music, but also with Japanese, Korean, Puerto Rican music and more. Teachers should put in the time and work necessary to make sure everyone has an authentic experience. And if teachers don’t feel comfortable with a style of music, call in a consultant. There are many people who would be happy to consult.

Patrick: [In addition to being a high school orchestra director,] I’m a choir director at a Black church in Waukegan. None of my choir members can read music. Everything is taught by rote. But in school, everything is taught in this narrow Eurocentric way. The choir director at my high school will often come to my room asking me for help [to approach this music more authentically]. That is the tip of the iceberg right there. We need community and more collaborative efforts for this cultural shift to happen in music education. We need to ask each other for help.

Rebecca: There was this Black staff member at my school who often came into our room knowing the tenor part of every gospel song we were singing. One day I told him, “I don’t feel comfortable leading this particular gospel song. Do you think you could come in and lead it instead from now on?” He agreed to at least come watch and give me feedback. After watching, he insisted, “These kids are following your lead. You need to do it.” I think sometimes, even though there are people in my building who can do these things better than I can, it means a lot to the kids that I do my best to honor their culture and their music. I also give students opportunities to conduct our gospel music when possible and it’s a privilege getting to sing with the choir. We need to ask other people for help and advice, especially from those who are experts. But I also don’t think we should shy away from doing the work ourselves too. I think it means a lot to the kids when we’re willing to make ourselves uncomfortable [and grow].

Abby: Excellent teachers see students for who they are as culture bearers and they honor the valuable experiences they bring. This may require teachers to be uncomfortable and step outside of their own cultural world to learn about the students’ cultural world. Acknowledging and bringing in musical experiences from the students’ lives will help provide more authentic, relevant teaching. Also, bringing the students’ lived experiences into your teaching demonstrates you value the students.

Break down the barriers.

Tara: We need to create age-appropriate pathways for students to begin their instrumental music education after the traditional start times. I’ve spoken with so many students whose parents said “no” to starting an instrument in 4th or 5th grade, due to money or transportation issues. Those students often believe that the ship has sailed for them. But as students get older, they are better able to advocate for themselves and can be more resourceful. The ship cannot sail at age nine.

Patrick: Eliminate predictors or stereotypes based on race by providing equitable supports. Everybody should be able to participate in the activities we provide. I’m at Midwest Young Artists. I started a program there 10 years ago called Young Music Scholars. Midwest Young Artists is located in Highwood, which has a large Latinx population. We generally get our kids from the north shore and northern suburbs. We realized, “Why do we not have these students of color when we’re right here in town?” The main problem was exposure. These kids didn’t know about our program, so we reached out to these teachers and kids. We sent groups out to play. And students of color don’t just get in. They audition. To make it equitable, once they get in, we provide them free private lessons and other supports. We now have several students of color who have graduated from this program and are going into music as a profession. I think we just finally opened our eyes to what we had right at our doorstep, invited them in and then provided the necessary tools for success.

Be sensitive.

Marlyn: Be more sensitive about the things you say because you don’t know the students’ backgrounds. I am a first-generation Mexican woman. I grew up in a world that my parents had no idea how to navigate, so I’m doing everything by myself. We can’t assume that the parents aren’t being supportive because they don’t read emails or respond to newsletters. Maybe they can’t read English. There are so many things some take for granted that might be a really sensitive topic for our kids.

Calesia: When I was a student, I didn’t want to be singled out as different because I already knew I was different. I never wanted my struggles or differences to make me stand out or be othered. If the teacher pulled me aside and talked to me privately, that would be fine, but never in front of my peers. The hard thing is that it’s happened to me so many times because of my race. I didn’t want to be treated differently, but I knew I needed different help.

Rebecca: There’s a fine line between empowering and othering our students of color. We have to know our kids and whether or not they are willing to put themselves out there because every student is different. I had a student who only spoke Spanish and our building’s bilingual coordinator kept asking me to have her teach a song in Spanish to students. From what I knew of her, I was fairly certain this was not something she’d be interested in. I pulled her aside one day to ask her and indeed, no part of her wanted to teach her classmates a song in Spanish. I’m glad I asked her privately.

Abby: Don’t assume anything about your students because I guarantee you will encounter more than what stereotypes or assumptions can offer. What you need to know is the kid in front of you.

In our collective effort to help music education evolve, let’s choose to ask ourselves more questions before attempting to provide answers:

Who do I see when looking at the students before me?
Can students at my school see themselves in my music program?
What repertoire am I recognizing as worthy of study?
Who am I programming?
Do existing repertoire lists serve my current students?
Who am I serving - the music or the people?
How do I make my program more equitable?
Do I expose students to a diverse group of clinicians and conductors?
What are my personal biases and how do they affect my teaching?
What would the students say are the priorities of my program?
Do I teach how I was taught, or am I also learning alongside my students?

It won’t be easy

Let’s engage in constructive discourse.

Patrick: Ten years ago, I decided to look at myself, look at what I do and see how I can be influential in my career as a Black man... I always agree to talk about this [conversations about race]. Sometimes it’s painful to talk about it, but it’s important to talk about it.

Rebecca: I think there needs to be more conversations in music education about being culturally responsive and rethinking what “good” music education is. We do this for the kids, not to pat ourselves on the back. We need to advocate for our students who need to have a safe space in schools.

Engaging in conversation with these 11 other music educators made me learn, feel and question a lot. When Daniella shared the feeling of being stranded on an island, she was met with overwhelming agreement from the group. We expressed gratitude for finding this new safe space, where we could share stories and tears without fear of judgment. I would like to express my deep gratitude to Marlyn, Tara, Eric, Roosevelt, Abby, Calesia, Richard, Rebecca, Patrick, Mona and Daniella for bringing their powerful voices to this article. They chose to share and rehash some of their most vulnerable stories, even though they had no obligation to do so. These 11 individuals agreed to do this because they are extraordinary educators who give tirelessly of themselves in order to better serve our students and our field. Thank you.

At times in our conversations, I felt comforted that I was not alone in my experiences. Other times, I was reminded that I will never fully understand the experiences of other people of color. We must all work feverishly towards empathy, while also recognizing that true empathy can never be achieved. Because none of us can ever fully understand how it feels to live in another person’s shoes. When we reach that important realization, it is our moral imperative to do the work within our control to strive for the equity that empowers more human beings.

We recognize that our proposal to redefine a “quality” music education is no easy task. After all, there are no prescribed answers or paths to solving the inequities that exist in music. Methods of curriculum and repertoire are only as effective as the thoughtfulness with which they are crafted and selected, based on the students and communities we serve. So rather than searching for concrete or formulaic answers, let’s choose to engage. Let’s choose to question. Let’s choose to admit our own complicity. Let’s be willing to have uncomfortable conversations. Let’s wrestle with challenging ideas.

Let’s do better.

Sarah J. Catt serves as the Director of Choral Activities at Elmhurst University after teaching high school and middle school choir for ten years. She received her Bachelor of Music Education from the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign (UIUC), her Master of Arts degree in Educational Leadership from Concordia University Chicago, and her Master of Music Education degree from UIUC. Outside of her musical endeavors, she enjoys spending time with her husband Brandon, the fine arts department chair at Glenbard East High School, and their spunky, adventurous, and inspiring daughter.