When I was sixteen years old, my band director placed the high school and junior high school concert bands in my hands. He was traveling to a conference, and rather than cancel class, he chose me to conduct after a few quick lessons. I was so excited about this opportunity. Upon the arrival of a faculty supervisor, I led the bands in playing a piece we had rehearsed. An overwhelming feeling came over me as the students responded to my direction. The music swelled and ebbed as I asked the different sections to play louder and then softer. It swirled around me, and I felt it become a part of me. It was an amazing, powerful feeling, unlike any I had ever felt. In that moment, I decided I would grow up to be a conductor of an orchestra—preferably high school or college—or dare I hope, a professional orchestra.
I went to college with a great deal of enthusiasm to pursue a music degree. Right away, I was told I would make a fine teacher of music at an elementary school. That is a fine profession but not the one I wanted. I continued to dream that one day I would conduct an orchestra that would make beautiful music.
After two years of foundational courses, I was ready to take my first course in professional conducting. It was a rigorous class that entailed conducting a choir made up of fellow students—very demanding as well as anxiety-producing. It was difficult to learn the musical score while simultaneously knowing when to have the sopranos sing louder and the tenors more quietly. Not only did I have to master the basic music, I had to think about how to interpret the music. Plus, it was choral music—I was more accustomed to instrumental music. On top of all that, the professor was very intimidating. It was hard to sleep the night before that class. Each time I approached the podium to conduct, my heart was in my throat.
Despite all this, I enjoyed the class and looked forward to it. I was very motivated to learn as much as I could. It helped that most of the other students felt the same way I did.
After my third turn at conducting, the professor asked me what I wanted to do after graduation. I told him I wanted to conduct a high school or college band or orchestra. He offered a patronizing smile, told me I had talent … and that I would make an excellent music teacher at an elementary school! I just smiled at him—I was very intimidated—and left the classroom. All night I struggled with my feelings and thought about what he had said, and what others in the music department had echoed. But at that point I had not found my voice to say authoritatively that I aspired for something else.
I had no one to talk to about my dreams, no one who would really understand what I was trying to achieve. My parents had not attended college; I was the first in my family to do so. Still, I called my mother, and she listened carefully to what I was saying and told me to go talk to the professor again. We practiced what I would say, and I finally got up the courage to make an appointment.
The big day arrived, and I approached the appointment with great trepidation. The professor listened to me carefully, and he was quite respectful. When I was done, he very kindly explained that it wasn’t feminine to stand in front of an orchestra and conduct—that it would not look good and that it really was a profession for men. I felt my dreams slipping away. I tried to talk about why I wanted to be a conductor, but he told me it just wasn’t an acceptable position for a woman. He again told me I would be an excellent music teacher at an elementary school!
It was all I could do not to cry as he continued to tell me how noble a profession this would be for me. I felt anger, I felt extreme sadness, and I felt hopelessness. I managed to leave with a smile and tears in my eyes and went to my dorm room to be by myself and cry.
I spent the next two weeks trying to figure out what to do. This was before the Internet, so I could not search to see how many women conducted college orchestras or bands. There was no way for me to find the very few women who held these jobs to get their advice. I decided to look at other professions and see what they might offer me.
I approached the psychology department and was fortunate to talk with the sole female professor in that group. I looked at the curriculum and decided that I could become a psychologist—there were women who were psychologists. True, at that time, not as many women as men, but at least there was an openness to my pursuing my studies. While this was a very tumultuous time in my life, it was the best decision I could have made. I finished my bachelor’s degree in one and a half years (compared with the usual three) with a major in psychology and subsequently completed my master’s degree in school psychology. I practiced as a school psychologist for fourteen years before pursuing my doctorate in clinical neuropsychology.
I am now a division director in Clinical Behavioral Neuroscience at the University of Minnesota and surrounded by other accomplished women. The only disappointment I have in my career is that all my mentors were men—no women were in supervisory roles during my education. I now aim to provide such mentorship to young women who are pursuing their advanced studies. It is a struggle as I watch my younger faculty trying to balance family life and a demanding career. But I take comfort in the fact that I can help them navigate the ways of the working world. In some ways, that narrow-minded professor did me a favor by allowing me to channel my abilities in another way.
WHEN I WAS DONE, HE VERY KINDLY EXPLAINED THAT IT WASN'T FEMININE TO STAND IN FRONT OF AN ORCHESTRA AND CONDUCT.
I am sad that still extremely few women conduct college bands or orchestras and even fewer conduct professional orchestras. It took thirty-seven years from the time of my experience before a woman was selected to conduct a major orchestra. That was in 2007. As of this writing, there are only eleven women conducting professional orchestras in the world, and only five are listed among the top conductors. We still have a long way to go.