Beyond the pressure of achievement
A lotus plant has many uses, but beauty is reason enough for its existence. (Image by Pexels)
When I was a freshman in college, my vocal instructor was about to accompany me on one of the Schubert Lieder when he suddenly turned around and asked me how old I was.
“Eighteen,” I said.
"When Franz Schubert was eighteen, he’d already written a hundred songs,” said my instructor pointedly. “How many songs have you written?” He lifted an eyebrow and gave a self-satisfied smile, then commenced the tune without waiting for an answer.
I was annoyed. My professor assumed that I wasn’t as accomplished as Herr Schubert, which was correct. But he also assumed that I hadn’t written any songs at all. Not true! I’d written somewhere around thirty.
Schubert was a great composer — basically the Paul McCartney of early nineteenth century Austria — but he had a short and not-that-great life. Was I supposed to aspire to be like him? Was the implication that I was wasting my time acquiring a degree and that I should be spending my time writing more songs? Was my teacher saying that I was lazy? What was he trying to tell me?
I didn’t ask. It didn’t matter. He was just playing a game that teachers play with their students: arbitrarily raising the bar. Whatever I sought to achieve, there was a higher standard I should keep in mind.
I understand why a college professor would take this approach with a freshman music major like me, attempting to broaden my horizons and encourage action. However, he missed the mark. He didn’t even leave room to acknowledge what I had already accomplished, which meant that it meant nothing. He didn’t ask what my goals were, because he didn’t care.
How strange it was to feel invisible in a class with only one student in it. How strange it was to be attending college by choice and yet find it so out of sync with what I wanted out of life.
There are people who believe that being a high achiever is paramount — that achievement is the self-evident point of any endeavor. I was supposed to want to please this professor and strive to win his approval, regardless of whether the achievements he valued were in line with what I cared about. But for the first time in my life, I began to question whether I was willing to do this.
As soon as I could, I switched to a different voice studio. My new instructor, Nancy Ogle, approached singing and musicianship with a sense of curiosity, openness, and experimentation. She painstakingly rebuilt my technique from the ground up and helped me to discover new possibilities in my voice without dismissing the work I was doing on my own as a singer-songwriter. She earnestly listened to the singers I brought to her — Etta James, Ella Fitzgerald, Nina Simone, Bessie Smith — and together we analyzed their recordings and learned from their artistry.
My work with Nancy wasn’t about achievement. Instead, we focused on exploration, possibility, and perpetual growth. These are values that I carry with me today.
Nancy understood that I wasn’t striving to become a professional opera singer, and her willingness to see me for who I was created the space for me to learn to sing opera with enthusiasm. I gave more than the minimum because I trusted her and believed in what I could achieve under her guidance. When the opportunity arose for me to perform a duet on the famous Flower Duet from Lakmé with my friend Laila a year after graduation, I was excited to do it — and I knew that I could, because of Nancy.
I believe that achievement for its own sake — or to please someone else — is limited. If you can’t find joy in the process, you’ve missed out on a lot. That’s because the satisfaction of reaching the top can’t last. You’ve programmed yourself to dismiss its value. The moment you achieve a thing, you’ll just move on to the next thing. And the person or entity you’re trying to please has learned that the best way to motivate you is to diminish you — why would they stop? So you never feel good enough, and that’s what keeps you going.
By contrast, if you are focused on the process — the day-to-day learning and deepening — you don’t care as much about the achievement because you’re already having a good time. You are looking for memorable journeys and meaningful collaboration. Some of this work may lead to impressive achievements, but that’s not the point — what matters is the quality of the experience.
Obviously, not everyone shares my opinion, and I have certainly clashed with clients and students in this regard. That’s okay — we’re not a match, just as I was not a match for my vocal instructor in my freshman year. The important thing is to recognize that there is another path, free from judgement and the pressure of achievement. I’m grateful to Nancy Ogle for leading me to it. That’s where I have chosen to spend my life, and I am on a mission to invite others to join me.
