The acknowledgments page of my doctoral dissertation ends with a note to my parents. I thanked them for their support throughout the degree, and acknowledged their understanding, given that twenty years earlier, when I had told them I wanted to be a doctor, this was probably not what they had imagined. It wasn’t what I had imagined either.
I started piano lessons at age four. I was genuinely interested in music but was far more interested in playing by ear than in doing the patient, deliberate work that turns a child into a pianist. My teachers were very kind, and demonstrated superhuman patience.
I grew up in northern Virginia, and the musical options for a curious kid in the suburbs of Washington were rich. In fourth grade, I managed to talk my way into a year of studying violin, a negotiation that involved giving my orchestra teacher my mother’s work phone number and asking her to make the case directly. It worked, though I clearly wasn’t destined to be a violinist. When fifth grade arrived, I walked into Mrs. Holder’s band room, where she decided that my true destiny lay with the clarinet. What I couldn’t have known then was how long that connection would last. Mrs. Holder’s husband, Roy, directed the band at Lake Braddock Secondary School, where I’d eventually spend my high school years. Mrs. Holder herself would still come in before every football game and concert to help the whole band tune. Some teachers shape you in ways that are obvious; others are simply present, consistently providing encouragement and opportunity at every important threshold. The Holders were both.
In high school I added percussion lessons with Bill Messerschmidt, principal percussionist of The U.S. Army Band, Pershing’s Own. Bill was a teacher who was more interested in making me a better musician and future educator than seeing me become a professional percussionist. I appreciated that then, and I understand it even more now. The opportunity to attend rehearsals and concerts of the National Symphony Orchestra had also quietly changed something in me. I fell in love with orchestral music, and my junior and senior years were spent performing with the American Youth Philharmonic and participating in the NSO’s Young Artist program. Memories include attending rehearsals and participating in masterclasses with NSO musicians, as well as a memorable AYP concert sharing the stage with Leonard Slatkin. By then, I was fairly convinced I was headed toward a career as an orchestral conductor.
My next stop at Florida State changed that, in the best possible way. I arrived in Tallahassee for my undergraduate studies and found myself in the orbit of Jim Croft, Patrick Dunnigan, and Bentley Shellahamer. What drew me in wasn’t just the quality of the ensembles (including the Marching Chiefs, which I would later serve as head drum major), but the repertoire itself. Wind band music felt genuinely new to me. So much of it hadn’t yet found its place in the broader musical consciousness, and there was something exciting about being present at that kind of discovery. This excitement would come into sharper focus many years later when I assumed leadership of the New Music Ensemble at the University of Texas at Austin.
I also consider myself truly fortunate to have been present for the final years of Dr. Croft’s leadership of the band program at FSU, and remember with fondness and admiration the three years I spent enjoying his stories woven into the fabric of every rehearsal. By the time I finished my degree, I was certain I wanted to be a band conductor.
Seven years teaching in Florida’s public schools followed. My experiences working with students, parents, and colleagues in Lakeland and Tallahassee gave me more than I can capture in a paragraph. Taking the Lincoln High School Symphonic Band to the National Concert Band Festival in 2009 and performing at UGA’s JanFest in 2011 remain among the highlights of that chapter.
Doctoral studies at UT Austin brought me into the hands of Jerry Junkin and Robert Carnochan, two remarkable teachers and mentors who would later become dear friends. What I gained from them goes well beyond the technical; they modeled a kind of musical integrity and generosity toward students I’ve worked to carry into my own teaching ever since.
After eight years on the faculty at UT, I’m now in my fourth year as Associate Dean for Academic Affairs and Student Success at the Indiana University Jacobs School of Music. The work looks quite different from standing on a podium each day, but the underlying purpose feels continuous: helping students find their footing, build their careers, and discover what kind of musicians and people they want to be.
I’m genuinely honored to have been elected to the American Bandmasters Association in 2024. It’s an organization that meant something to me long before I was part of it, owing to Mr. Holder’s induction occurring while I was a student in his band. Whatever I’ve managed to contribute to this field is built on the foundation laid by teachers like Roy Holder, Jerry Junkin, and Rob Carnochan, along with the countless students and colleagues who have trusted and inspired me along the way.
I’m still, in many respects, learning what I want to be when I grow up. But at some point, I stopped worrying about whether this was what anyone had imagined, and started being grateful that it’s what I found.