Practicing in High School: Mission Impossible??

This past August, I took advantage of a few free days to clean out and re-arrange my childhood bedroom. This proved to be somewhat of a tall order, as I am hopelessly nostalgic and quite often become sidetracked when sorting through relics of years past (“Just put it in the box, Zachary!” is a common refrain stated exasperatedly by whichever unfortunate individuals find themselves assisting me). But I managed to clean out my closet and bookshelf without succumbing to too much reminiscence, and even brought myself to dispose of a few items (a rarity!), until I happened to look up randomly and see the following statement inscribed on the wall above my newly-moved bookshelf:
XI. THOU SHALT NEVER DO HOMEWORK BEFORE PRACTICING.
I paused for a moment, taken aback. The words had been there for many years, but like all wall decor (if a poor parody on the Ten Commandments can be considered as such) had become so familiar that I had barely given them a thought during the brief intervals I found myself at home throughout my collegiate studies. But there they were, etched firmly in pencil, glaring at me from across the room and mentally transporting me back to a very different time in my life, a time when the cello took top priority and anything seemed possible.
I did not, of course, always regard practicing so religiously (pun intended). In fact, when I was a freshman and sophomore in high school, the cello was often my very last concern. I was quite motivated academically, and always did my homework right when I arrived home from school; only a few minutes of free time in the evening were spared for the cello, if they materialized at all. Then, as I detailed in my most recent blog post, I decided to go into music the summer preceding my junior year. Now, I really wanted to devote lots of time to my practicing, but with the increased amount of academic work I was obligated to complete, plus the looming specters of the ACT and SAT (which most students take as juniors), finding time with the instrument became a Sisyphean task. I remember alternating my after-school time between homework and practicing, spending perhaps twenty minutes on Trigonometry and then another twenty on the Saint-Saens concerto. While I still managed to do well in both music and academics, it was definitely challenging trying to fit everything in–especially since my high school ended at 3:30 PM, well into the afternoon.
I think it was about this time I defiantly etched the eleventh commandment on my bedroom wall, prompted not so much by a burning bush as much as a burning frustration. Here I really needed to practice if I wanted to pursue music professionally, but I also really needed to do my math homework. (OK, so I don’t think I actually followed my self-imposed dictum on a regular basis, but it at least made me feel guilty enough to make sure I got to practicing at some point.) So, in consideration of the exhausting regimen my junior year entailed, I signed up for an easier course load senior year. I had only been required to take three years of math, so instead of moving on to Calculus I took a study hall; instead of AP Physics, I took Astronomy (which proved to be incredibly fascinating, not in the least because my teacher claimed to have been abducted by aliens); and instead of taking British Literature, I opted for Creative Writing (which, for obvious reasons, I probably would have chosen anyway). With this lighter schedule, and my good fortune of having my study hall scheduled at the end of the day, I was able to complete all of my homework in school, and enjoy ample practice time upon returning home.
The reason I am sharing my experience is because I was obviously not alone. During the time I was in high school, and even now as I am teaching high schoolers, I have seen all sorts of various strategies for coping with an impossible commitment load. Some people I’ve known actually took a reduced school day, which enabled them to leave school at lunchtime, while others went so far as to drop out entirely and register as a homeschooler in order to accommodate the needed practice hours. Then there were those on the other side of the spectrum, who signed up for a boatload of advanced placement classes and still tried to fit in four hours of practicing (these were the students most likely to develop a caffeine dependency later on). And then there were still those who bravely attempted a full schedule, youth orchestra, auditions at top conservatories, the school musical, and the basketball team. How this is even possible I have no idea, although I do recall seeing a few fatigued-looking youth orchestra members clad in basketball jerseys.
So, what is the solution? IS there a solution? I believe that there is, but it is dependent on one’s individual goals. If your aspiration is to attend a conservatory–and I’m talking somewhere like NEC or Eastman, where I went–you don’t need the APs. I’ve never heard of a panel saying, “Wow, that Dvorak concerto was spellbinding, but we’re going to have to reject the applicant because they only took regular Calculus.” Yes, your grades have to be decent (as they should–I am by no means advocating that slacking off on academics is okay if one wishes to attend a conservatory), but they don’t have to be on par with the applicants at Harvard. Now, if you want to audition at a University, the classes you take are more important, because you have to get into the University as well as the music school. If this is the case, you will have to pace your schedule very carefully, and not take on unnecessary commitments. The main danger you face is spreading yourself too thin with every extracurricular and advanced placement class under the sun. While this is workable in a sports situation, where all you have to do is show up for the games and practices (and inhale a ton of carbs while being chauffeured to the next activity), it is very difficult when attending to musical commitments, since so much individual preparation is necessary. I knew far too many people who impressed everyone with their commitments to five demanding extracurriculars, but wound up at a safety school for college that they ultimately became unhappy with. Thinking long-term is key to identifying your short-term priorities.
With more and more pressure being put on high schoolers to get into a top college, it’s not hard to succumb to the urging of mentors and guidance counselors and fill your schedule to the brim. The problem is, not many of the people who offer advice through the public schools are fully cognizant of a prospective music major’s needs. Your best bet is to consult your private teacher, and if possible, former students (like me!) to figure out a situation that is right for you. OK, so you might not need to illustrate your resolve by engraving it on your bedroom wall (I am suddenly wondering if my parents have noticed that….perhaps a trip to the paint store is in order?), but at least have that resolve, and let it become for the foundation of all your other pursuits. It might seem like “mission impossible,” but it can be done.

The “eleventh commandment,” as seen on my bedroom wall.