A Letter from a High School Musician
By: Liz Chu
Tags: Music, High School, Performing Art

A Letter from a High School Musician

To whom it may concern,

I am writing to bring attention to an issue at our high school regarding the music department and its activities.

My name is Liz and I am a senior. I am also the current principal flutist, piccoloist, and a member of the council of our high school symphony orchestra. In the past few weeks, we have encountered a conflict with another extracurricular activity offered at our school: Model United Nations.

In the previous school year, the symphony’s rehearsal time was Wednesday after school. However, due to the cutback on after school buses and the restrictions placed on after school activities since school resumed post-shutdown, the rehearsal time was moved to Monday after school at the beginning of this school year. This coincides with MUN’s after school session, which is also on Monday.

Despite this, the advisor of our school’s MUN team has decided that as there are seven students involved in both activities, it is only fair to ask the symphony to switch their rehearsal time back to Wednesday. Apparently, this advisor also thinks it is fair to ask for the switch in December, four months after the school year started. Just today, this advisor has also announced that students in both organizations are excused from symphony rehearsal to go to MUN, without permission from or even notifying the orchestra teacher.

While I was perplexed and frustrated at the situation, I decided to ask around both the orchestra and the other students at our school involved in MUN. I asked a senior student how many students are involved in MUN, and he stated there were about thirty. I know very well that there are currently forty-six musicians in our orchestra as I was the one that reorganized the attendance roster.

The reason this seems to be an issue to me is not the fact that we have a scheduling conflict—as a student currently taking the hardest AP science class completely online due to a scheduling conflict, I am perfectly aware that these conflicts occur almost too frequently due to lack of organization and planning. It is the fact that this is not the first occurrence of this “put the music department last” mentality, even only during my high school career, that bothers me.

Our school experienced some major renovations during my sophomore year. Seemingly out of nowhere, parts of our older building were torn apart: the underclassman and upperclassman common spaces, the old kiosk, and of course, the music department.

When we came back to school in the fall of 2019, I was eager to see what had happened with the music department, and as I was excited to get back to symphony orchestra as a junior, I was elated that we had such a big rehearsal space before the renovation. But as I walked down the hallway to what used to be the music department, I found that the orchestra room was replaced with an art common space — useful, but not particularly for musicians—and our orchestra teacher was relegated to the small practice room in the corner. Instead of our wide, open space that could fit more than fifty students for our large ensemble pieces, I found a film screening room and an excess of art studios, which the art students have agreed are too many, even to them.

But returning to school this fall, in 2020, I was excited. We were away for more than half a year due to the pandemic, and as all the other arts departments had gotten their “makeover,” I was sure that it would be our turn next. But I walked into my music class on the first day, and all that greeted me were freshly painted blue walls and whiteboards that someone forgot to hang up.

I consistently express the neglect of the musical activities, much to the dismay of my friends around me, because I find it unfair that younger students have less of an opportunity to showcase their skills at such an athletics-driven school. Although this year is a special one, I cannot help but notice the small, subtle ways the music community differs from the athletic one.

First: Activities Council. After being pressured to change their name (which was previously Athletics Council), it seems that the organization itself was reluctant to shed more light on the performing arts at our school. While the group actively promoted sports games and events that happened after the lockdown, there was no advertising for any of the winter concerts this year. There were three concerts.

Second: varsity status. Although I appreciate the school and the student community’s efforts in attempting to increase inclusivity, I find that the performing arts groups in general are subtly neglected. In particular, the senior portraits in the second floor of the annex building seem to be a clear indication of this “varsity sports first, varsity artists second” mentality: I walk past the portraits everyday and glance at my own portrait, which is currently lying on a table near the hung portraits with the other APAC symphony seniors.

Third: scheduling. Symphony rehearsal often clashes with the after school sports practices that the students participate in. As symphony is not a seasonal sport, it is in session all year round, and we consistently find members swapping in and out due to sports practices. Furthermore, the current MUN example is a clear indication of discrimination against the musical groups at our school, and even as I write this the night before a final decision is made about whether we will be forced to move our rehearsal time, I have a strong feeling that the admin of our school will side with MUN—the activity that brings home medals and prizes, the activity that is globally renowned, the activity that takes precedence.

Upon lamenting to others about this mistreatment, I often face an offensive yet realistic opinion: “Why don’t you just do a sport instead?” To be honest, if I were looking for a varsity title and recognition within the school, I would have followed this advice.

But music is my passion. Music gets me up in the morning, keeps me excited during school, and is what helps me be in tune with my emotions. To me, it cannot be replaced with a sport, and frankly, I am not good at sports. In Physical Education classes, I was often the slowest runner and the clumsiest teammate. Instead, I shine in music: my skill and talent motivates me to practice and to try harder, even in class. Music is what I am good at.

Our school’s mission has never particularly stuck with anybody, and in my case, I see why. The last line, “the courage to live our dreams,” just never seemed to resonate with me. How can I have the courage to live my dream as a lifelong musician if I am not given the platform, the attention, and the audience to do so?

Music is our passion. Don’t tell us to choose another one: a passion is something you fight for.

Sincerely,

Liz