The Great Divide: How an Avatar Rewatch Led Me to a Professional Epiphany

My husband and I recently finished yet another watch-through of Avater: The Last Airbender (the OG 2004 series). Not only is it one of my favorite shows of all time, but every time I watch it, depending on the phase of my life I find that I relate to a different character. When I was younger, it was Katara, the plucky young woman who struck out on her own to master her craft and help the Avatar save the world. Sometimes it was Aang, on whose shoulders the fate of the world rested.

This time, in the wake of struggling to find my purpose in my field of work, it was Zuko. If you haven't seen the show, I won't put spoilers here. But you should go watch this work of art. Do it and come back. (I'll wait.)

With Zuko we follow the story of a troubled teenage prince who is banished from his imperialistic homeland and tasked with the pursuit and capturing of the main protagonist. Of everyone in the show, Zuko's arc contains some of the sharpest ups and downs as he travels the world and comes to grips with the fact that everything he percieved about the world from inside his bubble is wrong.

Now, you may be wondering how any of this could possibly relate to me or anyone else as a music teacher. Bear with me.

I won't speak for everyone's grad school experience, but for myself and some of my fellow candidates, there was a distinct feeling of superiority knowing we had made it far enough to even attempt getting a DMA. We trained diligently to work with students who chose their art and would be future performers and researchers. None of this dealing with parents and teaching high school kids who wouldn't practice more than thirty minutes a day. Studying with me would mean passing an audition first and weeding out the kids who couldn't hack it. If you think that's a really superficial, narrow way to look at music education, you're absolutely right. This was my bubble.

Let's get the elephant out of the way: "not immediately being able to find the best job right at the start of your career" is NOT the same as "my family banished me from my country." It's actually just first world problems. BUT-- there is something to be said for pursuing the same academic goal for thirteen years, being forced down new paths, and having your beliefs tested.

When I first ended up coaching high school percussionists several years ago, I had the audacity to believe that I was doing the everyone a favor by coming down off of my collegiate horse to teach these kids. Ironically, however, I was too embarassed to want anyone to know I was actually "Dr. Shippy" for fear of them judging the fact that I had sunken so low, and literally tried to hide it.

This time around, I found that Zuko struggling with his honor, pride, and identity, what it meant to find it again, and it defining his worth and purpose hit a little close to home.

Anyway, in her first few weeks of teaching, Dr. Shippy got her ass HANDED to her. My students called my bluff most days. They weren't disrespectful, but they made me work for their understanding and attention. All of my state-of-the-art training, my GA college teaching of higher musical concepts. none of it prepared me for students who either struggled with counting, couldn't read pitches on the staff, or didn't have a particularly good ear.

Here is where I learned my most life changing lesson in this space. The high school band director who reached out to hire me at first treated me gently, as though they thought maybe they felt the same way I did, embarrassed to ask a collegiate educator to come coach high school students.

And then proceeded to teach absolute circles around me.

I mean it...like nascar donuts -- in music fundamentals! I got dog-walked at my own game by someone who was only a couple of years older than me. And here is the craziest thing. After a few months of conversation, I learned that this educator had actually turned down college jobs and tenure-track opportunities. And when I asked why, they responded with one sentence:

"I don't want to be pulled away from this, it's too important." And gestured to the empty band room.

And boy, when I tell you that in the same way Zuko hits some major epiphanies in his character arc, this conversation rocked me to my core. I was still thinking about it at 3 AM that next morning.

I had to laugh at myself because while I had been watching my show with a bowl of popcorn , shouting "don't do it!" because Zuko was a 16 year old that didn't know any better, I was making plenty of the same mistakes last month at 33. The pursuit of validity will do that to you.

The thing that I had hinged my entire identity and worth on, the thing that had my heart and ego in a constant chokehold...this other educator that I had come to deeply respect freely gave it up for something they saw far more value in: their students, and the opportunity to build something with them.

That same conversation also shattered my arrogance, because I steadily began to grow more ashamed of how I had originally felt about taking this coaching job, just because it wasn't quite as prestigious as I'd wanted. I, in fact, was the rookie in this space, and after finding relief in admitting it, found myself wanting to dig in so much more. Most importantly, I realized I'd lost sight of one incredibly important detail, and it's one I still remind myself of every day on my journey.

I was once where my students were, and if someone had not stopped to help me, there would be no "Dr. Shippy".

From that day forward until now, I resolved that instead of acting like this job was a dead-end, I would see it for what it actually was: a learning opportunity. My practice journal, originally reserved for my own professional practice, now gets a few extra pages a week where I write down lessons and anecdotes that I learn from watching my friend and their amazing students. While I'm here (because I know it sadly won't be forever), I keep track of the successes and think about how I'll apply these things to a future job, if and when I get that office I've been dreaming about. Even if a job does fall in my lap, I'm hoping to hang onto this coaching role as long as I can because I've learn to love it just that much.