WHEN THE FREE CHECK BOUNCES...
I may be dating myself, but do you remember the Publishers Clearing House (PCH) giveaway? The one where people would spring out of a nondescript minivan with flowers, balloons, and a giant check for 10 million dollars?
You can see it here.
Publishers Clearing House and its $10 million in prize money may seem quaint in comparison to the mega millions (and now billions) earned from today's Powerball. Still, the PCH Prize Patrol was universally known across the country from the 1970s through the early 2000s, long before national lotteries and billion-dollar jackpots started grabbing headlines and feeding fantasies of riches. Unlike state lotteries, Publishers Clearing House allowed people to win without buying tickets or even the magazine subscriptions it was hawking.
What if they came to your house? What would you do? How would you react?
Can you even fathom opening your screen door to find the Prize Patrol on your front porch? You would be in shock. You would likely shriek in disbelief as the dream of a life of riches and abundance became a reality. You would likely call everyone you know and say something like, "I can't believe this is real. It's like a dream. A dream come true."
Until that is, the dream became a nightmare.
This past month, Publishers Clearing House declared bankruptcy, voiding its obligation to pay out any past winnings.
Yep, that's right. After decades of handing out giant checks, confetti, and false hope, the free ride has finally come to an end, as winners were notified that their checks would no longer be issued.
As I read the article, I wondered if something similar might be happening in our schools.
Not the bankruptcy or the betrayal; just the idea of promises made long ago that are no longer true.
Humor me for a second and see if you can follow, or perhaps even agree, with my logic.
For years, we sold generations of young people and their families on the idea that if you went to the right school, took the right classes, got the right grades, and went to the right college, you would live a life of abundance and be free of the worries that burden other people. It was more than the American dream; it was a tacit agreement we made with young people and their families. Like PCH, as our schools' finances become more constrained, I wonder if we can continue to deliver on that promise.
As Publishers Clearing House shatters the dreams it once promised, I wonder if our schools and our country aren't doing the same.
Politics aside, few can argue that the traditional educational pathways to success are not only becoming more constricted but also more expensive and, ergo, exclusive. Mathematically speaking, the dream of owning a home and living a middle-class life is becoming increasingly difficult to realize.
The PCH winners believed that one magical envelope in the mailbox could change everything. Sweat, effort, and sacrifice would no longer be needed. While that dream might have been fun to imagine, it was always built on the flimsy idea that you can get something for nothing. Similarly, a single sheet of paper (a diploma) is becoming increasingly flimsy.
Spoiler alert: you can't promise anything based on what you know or what other people say. You can only base it on what you do.
That's why our world—the music education world—is such a powerful counterexample. Our students grind out late nights and early mornings for an unweighted grade, for a credit that's not required, and for an audience and community that is largely unaware and ungrateful.
Music serves as the antidote to our Academic Prize Patrol.
No longer do grades assure a brighter future. Unless you're in an academic speciality (law or medicine, for example), no one cares where you went to school or what your GPA was. Prestige and financial rewards are no longer reserved for the academic elite, but are shared by bootstrap start-up founders who are non-college-educated millennials.
Listen, I am in no way bashing getting good grades and going to college. I have a college junior whom I am very proud of. I also have a high school sophomore whose grades I check almost daily (well, my wife checks daily and then tells me how he is doing). So education and academic achievement are important to me.
But...
As I went to pick up my high schooler from marching band rehearsal last night—a rehearsal that was supposed to end at 8:30 pm but stretched to 9:00—I was struck by the moment.
As I sat outside my car, I could hear the faint sounds of a metronome coming from the practice field. I checked my watch, and it was 8:50 — a full twenty minutes past release time. It then struck me.
My son had put in a full seven hours of school earlier that day, came home for an hour of downtime and an early dinner, and then returned to school for three and a half more hours of physically demanding rehearsal. He jumped in my car, 30 minutes past call time, without complaint (something he has been known to do), all in the name of teamwork and excellence.
No flowers, no balloons, or a big check to serve as a reward for his effort. No extra credit, AP credit, or bump in his class standing, just the knowledge and belief in trusting the process and understanding that gratification is delayed until effort is put in.
That's something pretty amazing if you ask me.
In music, there are no shortcuts, no sweepstakes, and no instant fame. There's only practice, persistence, and progress. Our students don't wait for luck to show up on their doorstep; they earn their own confetti, one rehearsal at a time, doing whatever it takes, whenever it takes.
When a violin section drills a passage until their fingers give out, when a clarinet player finally nails that run after two weeks of frustration, when the drumline stays an extra 25 minutes to tighten up their timing because they refused to settle—that's the kind of payoff that never goes bankrupt and can never be taken away. Those moments aren't televised, but they're transformational.
It's a prize that can never be taken away.
I genuinely feel bad for the winners who were affected in life-altering ways when Publishers Clearing House went bankrupt. They did nothing wrong and are victims of circumstances they did not create. It is unfortunate.
But that's precisely what makes your program so critical.
You are teaching lessons that can't be taken and are validating the fact that, in life, showing up matters more than showing off. Grinding is the pre-requisite for celebrating, and the work continues after the release bell has rung.
Eventually, the lights go out, the crowd dissipates, and the season ends. But the skills learned in a music room—the grit, the collaboration, the ability to keep going when it's hard—those keep paying dividends long after the applause fades.
The PCH model promised a lifetime of comfort for doing nothing. Music offers a lifetime of capability for doing something. While others await their check, our students await more work, knowing that they create their own success.
Something to think about.
Have a great week!
Scott