In the midst of a really fantastic weekend (which included a thrilling 140th anniversary Carthage band concert, an exciting Carthage choral concert,  and a beautiful Mother’s Day/Springtime Celebration service at Holy Communion) I have to say that one tiny moment that really stands out for me was a brief chat I had with a recent Carthage grad named Austin Pancer, a brilliant trombonist who graduated with a music major last spring.  I knew him chiefly from having been his piano accompanist on several occasions, but we certainly had plenty of conversations over the years; Austin was one of those students who was easy to talk to and always interested in musical matters apart from the trombone, and even now – via Facebook – we still sometimes have fun conversations.  (One of our most recent exchanges was spurred by his post which read “I am in love with La Traviata.”  How could I resist an opening like that?) More importantly, he was one of those rare students who was enormously gifted with an enormous work ethic to match.  One of my favorite Austin Pancer moments was on an early Sunday afternoon during his senior year, when I had to stop by my studio to pick something up.  There was Austin in a practice room, practicing – two days after he had just played a superb recital.   It just wasn’t/isn’t in this young man’s DNA to rest of his laurels; he was tireless in his quest to be as good a musician and trombonist as he could be.  (His diligence reminded me of one of the most admired of my schoolmates at Luther- Lisa Narveson- who practiced every single morning at the same time in the same practice room- and was even there the morning after her junior recital, as though it were just another day. Austin is one of the only students I’ve known since my Luther days who was comparable to Lisa for relentless work ethic.)  He was also the kind of student you wish wouldn’t graduate because you just hate to see them go, even if you know they’re going on to bigger and – one hopes – better things.    In Austin’s case,  bigger and better things awaited him at Indiana University-Bloomington, which is an exceptionally fine school and a place where Austin has experienced some very exciting opportunities and challenges.

Austin was around this weekend for the Carthage bands’ 140th anniversary concert,  but it was Sunday afternoon before the choir concert that he and I got to chat in the hallway for a couple of minutes.  When I’d seen him earlier and asked how his first year went,  he answered with one word:  tough.  Sunday, he had a chance to explain what he meant.  And it turns out that one of the hardest things to get used to was to be in such a hyper-competitive environment where it felt downright strange to even think about being friends with … for instance … one’s fellow trombone students.  In a place like IU, with an almost unfathomable level of talent on hand, it’s easy and perhaps unavoidable to view your colleagues as competitors first and foremost.  And, Austin said,  this was in drastic contrast to what life had been like here at Carthage,  where he remembers he and his peers celebrating each other’s victories; in fact, it felt like triumphs and achievements were meant to be shared.  And this is what made it possible to be genuine friends even with those musicians that might have appeared to be competitors.

It was an interesting coincidence that this came up with Austin because I had just thought about this the night before.  As I was sorting through the files of my voice students in preparation for juries,  I came across the reflective essay from last spring written by a student of mine named Mike Anderle.  One of the things he said in his essay is that when he made the finals of the statewide NATS competition,  he was really touched that Nick Huff and Max Dinan, who competed in the same division but did not advance,  were genuinely thrilled for him and could not have been more supportive. I was aware and appreciative of this at the time, but reading Mike’s heartfelt account of it made me even more so.  And this is part of what this place is all about.

Which is not to say that Carthage music students are magically or miraculously inoculated from feelings of jealousy the moment they walk on to our campus.   When it comes to coveted leading roles in our main stage musicals or choir solos or leadership roles in Lambda Kappa or any number of other things,  our students are well acquainted with envy.  But they also know something about rising above it, in part because we’re a small department that really can’t function or flourish if envy carries the day.  And this isn’t unique to Carthage.  A lot of small schools can take pride in the same thing.  And for that matter, I’m sure there are some large schools where one also finds this kind of culture. But I’m willing to wager that it’s tricky to foster it in such places where the pond is so large and crowded with a million fish, each one desperate to be noticed.  To matter.

By the way,  Austin says that he felt much better about grad school by the time he got to the end of his first year – so it’s probably a case of the competitive atmosphere maybe slowing down the befriending process rather than stalling it or preventing it altogether.   I’m glad it’s gotten easier for him,  but I’m also glad that he has come to an even deeper appreciation for the Carthage musical community he was (and still is) a part of.   And any day that we are reminded of a blessing we have perhaps taken for granted is a good day indeed.    So thanks, Austin, for reminding me of one very important reason why I like Carthage and schools like it, wherever they may be.

Pictured above:  A relatively new Carthage Choir tradition: Before the last concert of the year, the choir sings “The Blessing of Aaron” for the seniors who are about to graduate.  The seniors remain seated in the center of the room as the rest of the choir encircles them, holding hands.