Arts education has been the most transformative force in my life. Growing up, I didn’t always have the language to describe how I felt or how I saw the world, but music gave me a voice. Choir classrooms and community stages became sanctuaries—places where I could explore identity, express emotion, and discover purpose. The structure and creativity of the arts helped me make sense of the world around me and helped me see that I had something meaningful to contribute to it.
My first music teacher was my father, a preacher and gifted musician who could make a Hammond organ speak like a storyteller. I remember sitting next to him during rehearsals, soaking up the harmony, the passion, the reverence. He never formally “taught” me lessons, but everything he did was a lesson: the way he prepared, the care he took with each note, the dignity he carried as a musician and man of faith. From him, I learned that music was more than just performance—it was service. Whether in church, school, or the broader community, music was a way of lifting people, building connection, and sharing truth.
In public school, choir became the center of my academic and social life. I wasn’t the most confident kid, but the arts gave me confidence I didn’t know I had. I wasn’t the loudest or the most athletic, but in the choir room, I was seen and heard. I found a family in those risers—people from all walks of life brought together by a shared love for something bigger than ourselves. The experience taught me how to listen deeply, work collaboratively, and strive for excellence without losing my individuality. It was in those rooms that I began to feel not just talented, but capable.
There were many teachers who shaped my journey, but one in particular stands out: my high school choir director. She was tough, passionate, and believed in my potential before I believed in it myself. When I wanted to quit, she reminded me of the doors that music could open. When I got distracted or discouraged, she challenged me to rise above it. She saw music as a discipline—something that could change your life if you gave yourself to it fully. And so I did.
What she gave me was more than music education. She gave me a template for what it means to teach with integrity, to lead with heart, and to hold students to a standard not out of pressure, but out of love. She showed me that teaching the arts was not just about notes on a page but about shaping lives. That example stuck with me and became the foundation of my own work as a choral educator.
Today, I’m a music teacher myself, committed to continuing that legacy. I serve students who, like me, need the arts to make sense of the world and of themselves. Some are discovering their voice for the first time; others are trying to hold onto theirs in a world that often tells them to be quiet. I teach them what I was taught: that their voice matters, that discipline and creativity can coexist, and that music can be both personal and communal healing.
Arts education didn’t just change my life—it gave me one. And I continue this work because someone did the same for me.