Is Competition Fulfilling?

Jeannette-Marie Lewis
September 1, 2021

In my world, competing is like ordering the hottest salsa from Chipotle; it’s satisfying in the short term, but gives me food poisoning literally every time. So why do I always go back for more?

Competition is the reason I chose my instrument. I watched my parents hesitantly sign the pink paper slip after questioning my decision. “So many people play the flute. Wouldn’t you rather choose something like the horn? It’ll be difficult for you to get a college scholarship.” My nine-year-old brain, channeling its inner Barney Stinson, thought, challenge accepted.

As a young classical musician, there is a progression you’re taught to follow. You practice your instrument to compete in solo evaluations. You ace your solo, scales, and sight-reading to qualify for county and state-wide festivals. You audition for youth orchestras to bump up your extracurriculars, hoping to secure a spot in a college or conservatory. When a goal was met, I’d move onto the next one. There was no time for relishing in the glory of a win when something bigger and better could be accomplished.

Then came college decision letters, which I fearfully opened alone in my basement bathroom. The results were in- a few music schools had accepted me, a flutist among the masses. I felt victorious until stepping into the practice wing, a physical representation of the competition to come.

Securing principal spots in every ensemble was an absolute must. Why not go for section leader positions in non-classical and non-flute-related ensembles, too? Professors talked about “winning” the seat, “getting” the job, “beating” the competitors. I had to do the most, have the longest list of achievements. Otherwise, what was the point? Unless my name appeared at the top of every list, I was losing.

Obsessed with staying on top, I continued to strive for “the best.” Graduate programs, professional orchestras, fellowships, flute competitions; they all became stepping stones for what I thought were bigger and better things. During my doctorate, however, I realized that lines on my resume were not translating to gratification. Instead, they were enabling my fixation on competition. The lows that I’d felt during high school were put under a microscope with each loss, begging to be acknowledged before my relationship with music self-destructed.

I slowly started unpacking my competitive nature during the summer before my ninth straight year of college. I’d played a great audition without advancing to the finals. The results were crushing; I didn’t want to show my face to my family, friends, and colleagues. As I sat on a bench outside the audition venue, my mind immediately started racing with thoughts of quitting my instrument and dropping out of school.

While I sat in silence, however, I began to think through why I cared so deeply about this loss. I realized that this wasn’t a job I really desired; the orchestra wasn’t in a city I could envision myself living in, and the season calendar wasn’t reflective of my core values as a human being. The reason I cared was because my pride took a hit. I didn’t care that I wouldn’t be sitting in that orchestra, playing that music with those musicians. I cared because I lost, and everyone would know it.

Though I’m not sure I’ll ever shake my competitive spirit, I am actively trying to stop competing for the sake of competing. Alternatively, I’m searching for jobs that I could both add to and grow from, regardless of the accomplishments of the applicant pool. I’m manifesting sitting in that black orchestra chair, unpacking my flute stands while making small talk with the flute section before playing music I’m proud to play. I’m working on practicing gratitude and living in my successes instead of focusing on the next big thing. I’m advocating for incorporating these practices into college curricula, so others may feel more equipped to handle loss and celebrate themselves.

I have a ton of work to do before I truly feel comfortable with failure, but this work is necessary to have a sustainable career in classical music. Please advise if you have any tips on moving on from the Chipotle salsa, though- that’s proving to be much more difficult.