Playing the Field

By Michelle Parker

As I scanned my e-mail messages this morning, amid the numerous job alerts and rejection letters came the following piece of advice: "In hard times like these, you need to play to your strengths in order to get or keep that perfect job."

Play to my strengths? That simple phrase has been my nemesis of sorts for years, serving as a cold reflection of what it means to hold a doctorate of musical arts and be a professional musician.

As I mentioned in my previous columns, I have a D.M.A. -- a degree that has been a source of both pride and pain for me as I've tried to navigate the academic-job waters for the past three years. While my degree has brought praise and second glances from some search committees, it has inspired scorn and ridicule from others: "D.M.A.'s can't play." "D.M.A.'s can't read and write."

One particularly ornery member of a search committee told me over the phone this spring that "having a D.M.A. is like a death sentence. D.M.A.'s without a current position in their field simply don't inspire confidence in their abilities." Oddly enough, that entire search committee was comprised of D.M.A.'s and Ph.D.'s. Needless to say, I wrote off that interview.

Since it's neither probable nor practical for me to protect myself from such negative responses by hiding under the covers, I have tried to keep myself active as both a professional musician and as an academic.

I am a "first-call" substitute with several major orchestras and opera companies, so I am playing a professional gig almost every week. I work full-time as a high-school music teacher, volunteer with an after-school program that provides free music lessons to needy children, and maintain my own studio of private students.

On the academic side, I have an article scheduled for publication in a major journal in the fall. I will be presenting another paper this summer at my instrument's annual convention, and my dissertation-turned-book will be published at the end of November.

If playing to your strengths means exactly what it says, one would think that I'm a particularly strong candidate for academic jobs in my field. I offer both extensive professional and academic experience, and I have remained active in my profession since earning my doctorate. Even more important in a publish-or-perish world, I would think that having a scholarly book published would mean something.

But it doesn't -- or, at least it didn't to this year's crop of search committees. My pile of rejection letters (from those music schools with enough class to acknowledge my application) has slowly but steadily grown this spring. Several letters have actually been personalized, containing comments like "you were not selected because you lack professional experience," or "your academic record needs to be stronger."

All of which makes me shake my head in a mixture of confusion and irritation. I know numerous professors in my field who haven't published a single piece of writing, and never will. They haven't produced a CD, helped to establish a program for community-music involvement, or worked on a regular basis as a professional performer, and never will. Yet they have full-time academic jobs in my field, and I don't.

Sour grapes? Yes, I think so.

I sat there staring at the e-mail. "Play to your strengths!" it screamed at me.

Play? I do play -- I have gigs almost every week. Play? I practice a minimum of two hours a day, sometimes just because I want to (yes, I really do enjoy practicing).

Then it hit me: Play. Academe is not the only option for a musician with a D.M.A. While I was working on my master's I won a principal position with a small Midwestern orchestra. Neither the orchestra nor the salary was fantastic, but at the time it enabled me to pay for graduate school and play as a professional full-time. The orchestra went bankrupt shortly before I left the area, though, and once I started working on my doctorate, I all but forgot about that period of my life.

But now, faced with the ever-uglier reality that my dream of finding a job in academe is not meant to be, I have decided to once again turn my attention to winning an ensemble position.

Going on auditions is similar, in some ways, to applying for academic jobs: You send in written materials and perhaps a CD for prescreening. You might have a telephone interview, or your references might be checked. But while an on-campus interview may involve three or four candidates over several weeks, an audition often processes several hundred applicants through a weekend.

Expense-wise, you're on your own on the audition circuit. You must make your own travel and lodging arrangements, with no guarantees. If members of the audition committee don't like what they hear, they can stop and dismiss you at any time. Sometimes you may advance through several rounds, other times you might be cut before you finish playing your first excerpt.

That kind of "musical roulette" can be very stressful. I have passed on several major auditions in recent years because of financial costs or scheduling conflicts. The time and expense of mailing an academic job packet pales in comparison with that of going on an audition, and when you have no assurance that either endeavor will have a positive outcome, why take the more expensive risk?

Risks are part of life, though, and I am tired of fighting with academe. I am tired of struggling with vague job descriptions, electronic application forms that refuse to work, and human-resource offices that are incompetent. I am tired of being told, "You just don't have enough experience."

So I am going back on the audition circuit. I sent off my initial materials for review, and immediately received an audition invitation from three groups. I have decided to audition for one of them.

Thinking back to past auditions, I have convinced myself that it would be better to focus on the position that I really want. It's too hard to perform at your best when you've hyperextended yourself. And so I have been preparing for a month now, practicing every afternoon and evening for hours on end. I've consulted with colleagues, listened to recordings and studied the music, and worked on one excerpt so much my pet bird has started to whistle it.

"Play to your strengths." That phrase is actually one of the biggest reasons that I have chosen this particular audition. It requires not only the performance of excerpts, but also the memorization of solos, improvisation, and the incorporation of dramatic elements. I enjoy improvising and being spontaneous with my instrument, and my memorization skills are extremely strong.

My audition is now about a week away, and I feel confident. It may not work out; I may walk away having lost both money and time. But at least I'll be doing something other than just sending job applications into an academic black hole. I'll be playing to my strengths.