While working on my bachelor’s degree, not only had I taken on a huge academic load but I also worked 40-hour weeks during my summers and maintained a demanding work-study position during the school year to avoid debt. Graduation seemed like a light at the end of the tunnel, and I couldn’t wait to take a nap. There was no mistaking that I was not ready to start pursuing my master’s degree.
I was not daunted by the academic rigor of a graduate program. I was, however, daunted at the idea of spending $80,000+ on a degree for a career I had little applicable experience in. I majored in vocal performance because I liked singing and I was not really attracted to teaching. It is really as simple as that. I didn’t think 5 or even 10 years ahead. I didn’t ponder if I was good enough to make a living singing or even what it would be like to have a career as a singer. I didn’t even really realize what my major entailed—diving head first into the world of opera and classical music.
I loved my classes and I got positive feedback from professors, but somewhere in the whirlwind of those four years I started to doubt the feasibility of making a career out of performing. All of a sudden my parents’ persistent nagging to have a backup plan (which I persistently blew off) seemed like a very good idea. Thanks to my Career Skills class and surfing the Internet, I also began to learn about entrepreneurial musicians who were doing amazing things. And, finally, I was feeling a strong sense of responsibility to contribute to society in a meaningful way.
What better way to contribute to society than to make beautiful, moving music? This is certainly a valid point. I valued the position that performing put me in, but I also felt a pull toward music for social change through community involvement and youth outreach. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to perform. I loved singing and especially participating in my school’s operas and I found the gaps between shows boring and the stress over learning a new role or aria thrilling. But my eyes were suddenly opened to the fact that there are many more options and opportunities and projects and ideas floating out there than “be a singer or be a teacher.” I spent my last semester seeking out and interviewing professors, friends of professors, and professionals with interesting careers, trying to brew some kind of exciting way to bundle all of my interests into one cohesive career plan.
With a sigh of relief, I decided to skip the headache of applying to graduate programs while preparing a senior recital, taking difficult classes, and singing the title role in the spring opera. Not to mention, my bank account was looking pretty scrawny. My parents expected me to fund my own college education and, despite the generous financial aid I was given, I was still scrounging to make ends meet. I was determined to graduate debt free. There was just no way I could pay for application fees and travel expenses to audition for schools on top of my last two semesters of college.
So, instead, I chose to take a gap year.
I didn’t exactly know what I wanted out of my gap year at first, except to buy myself more time before I had to make another big decision about what direction my life would take. I only had a few hundred dollars in my bank account and I wanted to save money—enough money to apply and audition, if that was the path I chose. I also wanted to get some kind of experience that would help me decide if I wanted to get my master’s in performance or arts administration, or maybe even social entrepreneurship or an MBA.
I moved back home with my parents. That definitely took some getting used to. Every time I would get annoyed or frustrated about landing myself back in my childhood bedroom, I would remind myself that I wasn’t paying rent. I started the summer motivated and excited to find a job or internship with a performing arts company or organization.
Dozens of applications later and after many rejections (and many whom didn’t even acknowledge that they received my application), I felt discouraged and depressed. I tried passing out business cards at our garage sale and visiting local school teachers to find private students. I didn’t get one call. I even taped business cards to candy on Halloween! I went to churches to try to get a singing gig, but couldn’t find any who hired singers or had openings.
I also felt lonely without any of my college friends nearby and had outgrown most of my high school friends. Meanwhile, all of my peers seemed to be having a great time at grad school. I dragged my feet to a restaurant I used to work at and also worked as a brand ambassador for a promotional company. I started questioning my gap year decision while rolling chopsticks into linens, smiling through rudeness of customers, and selling wine to soccer moms.
I reached out to a colleague of mine (we had met at an All-State Choir during high school) who had graduated one year before me to see what she was up to. Coincidentally, she was leaving her job at a local music studio to make more time for family responsibilities. She recommended me for the position, and I was hired immediately. I started out with only a few students, but in just a couple of months my studio grew to 20 and then 30 students! It stung that the studio kept 50 percent of the fee they charged the students, but I enjoyed teaching these private lessons more than I ever expected to.
Then, months after I thought one of my many e-mails had died in the bottom of another inbox, a local opera company responded to my application for interning in their Development Department. I went from splitting my time between lounging by the pool and filling out applications to having two jobs and an internship!
Meanwhile, I was on a quest to find a great voice teacher. This was scary. I felt like I was entering a commitment comparable to an arranged marriage. I was terrified to trust my voice—and four years of hard work at school—to a near-stranger. I contacted professors at local colleges and asked everyone who was remotely involved in classical music who they’d recommend. I observed many lessons before I felt that I had found a good match thanks to a suggestion from the choirmaster at the opera company I interned with. I also finally found a church gig through one of the teachers I observed.
I signed up for a YAP Tracker account and started aggressively searching for competitions and singing opportunities. Participating in competitions was never something I had time or energy to do during my undergrad years—and those I did enter, I did not do well in. Winning and placing in competitions during my gap year was not only a shining star to add to my résumé but, more importantly, gave me the boost of confidence that I needed.
It did not take much time for me to realize that a single year was not enough time for me to “take off.” I graduated in May, which meant that I didn’t have much time before my applications would be due in December. Although I was leaning strongly toward continuing on the performance route, I still felt that six months was surely not enough time to consider what I wanted to do with the rest of my life! I decided to expand my gap year to at least two years.
As my second summer began, an opportunity to teach music at a pk–8 private school just about fell into my lap. I saw my exit route from the restaurant and leapt at the opportunity. I was stunned that my bachelor’s in music qualified me to teach at private schools and even more baffled that nobody had pointed this out to me while working on my degree.
Unfortunately, the salary at this position was so meager that I was still keeping most of my private students and my church job. I was back on the wagon of the 60-hour work week and my voice suffered for it. I enjoyed teaching but became exasperated by discipline issues. I found the routine of working for an institution monotonous and was constantly stressed and frustrated by the many disparities of our education system. With several competitions and graduate school auditions on the horizon, I resigned after three months to regain my vocal health. The position reinforced my belief that being a school teacher was not a good fit for me, but it strengthened my commitment to music for social change.
Something my advisor said to me in my final days at my undergraduate program finally rang true. “Do you realize that you are going to have a 40-year-long career?” she asked. “That is a long time. You will not do the same thing for all of that time.” I realized that I did not have to sacrifice my love for performing in order to make a difference. I could certainly achieve both in the many years ahead of me.
Almost exactly two years after I sang my senior recital, I found myself performing a recital for the church I work for. Comparing the preparation and nerves for each of those performances is an incredible testimony to how much I have grown during these past two years. Not only was I more musically and physically expressive, but I was actually having a lot more fun!
I could not be more proud or satisfied of what I accomplished during my “time off.” Though I hated almost every minute I spent working in that restaurant, I saved up a decent amount of money that I hope will help keep my grad school debt to a minimum. Working with my voice teacher and coach has been a wonderful fit both technically and professionally. Not only am I singing and performing better than ever before, but I have developed a wonderful network of colleagues and have found the confidence that I am sure can drive me anywhere I choose to go.
