Reflections on My Journey Through VCUarts Music

My journey through the music department at VCU has been one of healing through fire. Although there has never been a day that I have felt completely comfortable, there has also never been a day that I have not grown. The gratitude that I feel for the people who made this experience possible for me is so deep that trying to describe it just produces tears.

In 2018, I entered the music department through the back door. After graduating from Northern Virginia Community College with two associate degrees in photography, I transferred to VCUarts to pursue a BFA degree in photography and film. The thought of getting a music degree seemed like only a fantasy to me at that point. Although playing the saxophone was my first love, it also represented failure for me because it was a reminder of my first round of college in 1994. As a music education major at James Madison University, I had to take ten classes and work a part time job. At that time, I was unable to cope with my life, and I kept mentally breaking down. After I attempted suicide, got pregnant, and got married, I finally left JMU in 1996, and I felt like a complete failure. Leaving school was very traumatic for me, and it caused me to only see a college dropout whenever I looked at my reflection. When the past music credits showed up on my transcripts, I decided to pursue a minor in music, which would enable me to take classes and lessons without auditioning or getting too deeply involved in the music department. It had been years since I had played music seriously, and I did not believe I could pass a music audition. Little did I know I would rekindle my love for music with the help of Professor JC Kuhl.

Early in my second semester, my father, the original saxophonist in the family, died at the age of ninety. I came right back to school with a broken heart. I will always remember the day I returned after he died. I was in a practice room, and I looked in the mirror and saw my father looking back at me. It was then that I decided to delve deeper into music. It was one of the only things that could help me feel close to my father. But I would never be able to hear from him that he was proud of me for my musical accomplishments. Regardless of age, every daughter wants to hear that her daddy is proud of her.

Professor JC patiently taught me how to read chord changes and improvise. He trained me for a full year, even during the summer, to prepare me for my first audition for the jazz orchestra. I suffered from severe performance anxiety, and I was so afraid of failing at music again. The closer my audition date got, the more panic attacks I had. When my audition day finally arrived, I had to use all the breathing exercises and coping skills I had learned in therapy just to get me through the 15-minute audition. This was my first encounter with Professor Antonio Garcia. The audition was successful, and I played in Jazz Orchestra I and a small jazz ensemble.

Despite the success of my audition, my performance anxiety plagued me, especially after I heard how skilled my peers were. In my eyes, everyone around me was always more skilled and more talented than me. My fear of public humiliation drove me to work harder than I ever had. On the night of my first small jazz ensemble performance, I felt overwhelming dread at the thought of getting on that stage and risking messing up and embarrassing myself. On the way to my locker, I passed by Professor Garcia’s office, and his door happened to be open, so I knocked. Professor Garcia let me in, and I shared my fear with him. He gave me permission to stand at an angle on the stage so that I would not have to directly face the audience. Instead, I could just focus on the pianist. Professor Garcia was so patient with me. He spent an hour talking me down off the ledge that night, and I was able to face my fear and get through the performance. My performance anxiety did not end that night, but every time I got on the stage and did not let my fear paralyze me, I made a small stride towards healing.

In the fall of 2020, I spent the whole semester investigating graduate programs for art and trying to decide what to do after I got the photography degree. I had an intense sense that I had more work to do at VCU, and I had a discussion with Professor JC. I asked him if he thought it would be possible for me to finish what I started in 1994 and get my music degree. He told me that it would be a great deal of demanding work, but that he believed I could do it. I then spoke with Professor Garcia about it, and he told me he believed in me. He also told me that since he had spent the past year hearing me play, he would waive my audition into the music department. I was so excited at the thought of being an official music student.

I had a tremendous amount of work ahead of me, but part of what drove me was that Professors JC and Garcia believed in me, and I wanted to do everything I could to make them proud. Professor Garcia became a father figure in my eyes, and Professor JC was like a big brother. In retrospect, I realize that those are roles that I projected onto each of them in my mind and in my heart, to help me cope with the loss of my father. Neither one of them asked for those roles, or the expectations that came along with them. I struggle with whether that was fair of me to put them in those positions in my heart. To them, they were just doing their jobs. To me though, they were vessels for healing in my life.

As my time at VCU draws to a close, I find myself crying often. They are not tears of sorrow. My body is trying to process a level of gratitude I have never felt before. I have struggled to find appropriate ways to express how deeply I feel without freaking my professors out or coming across as creepy. I even wrote a song in their honor. Nothing I can say really seems to accurately describe how grateful I am. I wonder if professors have any idea of the impact they have on their students’ lives. Their belief in me and their willingness to invest time into me and encourage me to face my biggest fears has changed the image I see when I look in the mirror. I will be eternally grateful for that, and I plan to spend the rest of my life paying it forward.