My Students Aren’t Wrong: Part 2 - They Want to Be the Conductor

Trying to Understand My Students

There is a type of music education student I have struggled to understand for a long time.

They love music. They are dedicated. They work hard. They often come from strong band, choir, or orchestra programs and speak passionately about the impact music had on their lives. They describe rehearsals that felt meaningful, performances that felt powerful, and directors who changed the trajectory of who they became.

And yet, when they begin working with children, something feels disconnected. Sometimes they seem uninterested in how children learn. Sometimes they become frustrated with beginners. Sometimes they seem much more excited about standing in front of an ensemble than they are about facilitating learning itself. In some cases, they do not even appear to enjoy working with children very much at all.

For years, I kept asking myself the same question:

Why would someone major in music education if they do not actually enjoy teaching children?

The more I thought about it, the more confused I became. I kept viewing the issue through the lens of teaching. I assumed students who pursued music education must be motivated primarily by a love of helping young people learn music.

But I am starting to think that assumption is incomplete. I do not think my students are wrong. I think they are responding logically to the system they came from.

What the Ensemble Model Teaches

Most large ensemble music programs are built around a very specific structure. The conductor stands at the center of the room. They shape the sound, control the pacing, interpret the music, determine the rehearsal flow, and ultimately guide the entire experience. Students respond to that direction.

When the ensemble sounds beautiful, the conductor is praised. When the performance is moving, the conductor is celebrated. When the group succeeds, much of the value becomes attached to the person at the front. Over time, students absorb this without anyone explicitly saying it.

They begin to associate meaningful musical experiences with the conductor.

Not necessarily with participation itself.
Not necessarily with collaboration.
Not necessarily with collective creativity.

The value appears to come from one person. And if you are a student who experienced powerful emotions in those environments, why would you not want to become that person?

Choosing the Role That Felt Valuable

I think this is what I have finally started to understand. Many music education students are not choosing teaching in the way we often imagine.

They are choosing the role they experienced as valuable.

They want to be the person who creates the experience.

The person who shapes the room.

The person who leads people toward something emotionally powerful.

The conductor becomes symbolic of importance. Of musical authority. Of transformation.

When students repeatedly experience music through systems where one person appears to generate most of the value, it makes complete sense that they would aspire to become that person. Even if they do not particularly enjoy working with children.

Why Some Future Teachers Struggle

This realization has helped me make sense of many things I have observed over the years. To quote Robert Plant, “Ooh, it makes me wonder”:

Why do some students become excited about conducting advanced ensembles, yet show little interest in elementary general music?

Why do some future teachers become frustrated when students are noisy, messy, inexperienced, or creatively unpredictable?

Why do some students resist learner-centered environments where they are not fully in control of the musical outcome?

Because those spaces do not align with the version of value they inherited. If meaningful music experiences have always appeared to flow downward from the conductor, then environments where students generate ideas collectively can feel unfamiliar or even uncomfortable.

In those settings, the teacher is no longer the clear center of the experience.

The value becomes distributed.

And that changes the role entirely.

This Is Not About Ego

I do not think this is simply about ego. I think it is about identity.

Many students spent years inside music programs where the conductor was the emotional center of the ensemble. The conductor inspired them, motivated them, challenged them, and created experiences that became deeply meaningful memories. So when those students imagine themselves in the future, they naturally imagine stepping into that same role.

Not because they are selfish. Not because they are narcissistic. But because that is where the value seemed to live.

What Systems Quietly Teach

The more I reflect on this, the more I realize how deeply systems shape aspirations. Students do not just learn music inside school ensembles. They learn what music education is supposed to look like. They learn where authority belongs. They learn who creates meaning. They learn what counts as success. And in many traditional ensemble settings, success becomes attached to polished performance directed by a strong leader.

Again, this is not necessarily bad. Large ensembles can create beautiful, life-changing experiences. Conductors absolutely matter. I am not arguing that conductors are unimportant or that teacher-directed instruction has no value.

But I do think we need to acknowledge what those systems implicitly teach future educators. They teach that musical value comes primarily from the teacher.

What Happens When Value Is Shared?

This becomes especially important when we think about the future of music education. Because if students believe the teacher is the primary source of value, then they will naturally pursue roles that position them at the center.

But what happens when we begin creating music classrooms where the value is more distributed? What happens when students experience environments where participation itself feels meaningful?

Where creativity matters.

Where contribution matters.

Where belonging matters.

Where students are not simply executing someone else’s interpretation, but actively shaping the musical experience together. In those spaces, the teacher still matters deeply. But the role changes. The teacher becomes less of a central performer and more of a designer of experiences. Less of a controller of outcomes and more of a facilitator of participation. And I think that shift changes what students begin to value.

A Different Kind of Music Teacher

I have seen moments of this in modern band settings, songwriting sessions, small group music-making, and creative projects where students generate ideas collectively. In those environments, the energy often feels fundamentally different. Students are not just waiting for approval from the front of the room.

They are contributing.

They are negotiating.

They are listening.

They are creating.

And interestingly, students who experience those environments can begin thinking about teaching differently too. They often become more curious about how to support participation, more attentive to student voice, and more interested in helping others contribute rather than simply directing them. In those moments, the role of the teacher starts to expand beyond conducting and toward creating the conditions where meaningful music-making can happen collectively.

Expanding the Ecosystem of Music Education

This does not mean every ensemble needs to abandon traditional structures. I do not think the solution is replacing one model with another. Large ensembles can create deeply meaningful musical experiences, and there is tremendous value in students learning to perform together toward a shared artistic goal.

But I do think music education needs broader ecosystems of musical experience. Different structures teach students different things about music, learning, participation, and where value lives within the classroom. And ultimately, those structures help shape different kinds of future teachers.

If students only experience music education through systems where one person appears to hold most of the musical power, then it makes sense they would aspire to become that person. The conductor becomes the visible source of meaning, leadership, and transformation within the ensemble.

But if students experience classrooms where the value emerges through collaboration, creativity, contribution, and connection, then perhaps they begin aspiring toward something different. Not simply becoming the conductor at the center, but becoming the person who creates spaces where others can meaningfully participate.

That is a very different vision of teaching. And I think it leads to a very different vision of music education itself.

My Students Aren’t Wrong

The longer I teach, the less interested I become in blaming students for what they value. Students respond to the environments we create. They internalize what systems reward, and they absorb the experiences that make them feel something important. So when my students want to become conductors, I no longer see that as confusion or misunderstanding. I see it as evidence that the system worked exactly as it was designed to work.

The real question is whether we are willing to design systems that teach future educators to value something more expansive. Not just performance. Not just authority. Not just being at the center. But participation, creativity, belonging, and shared music-making.

Because if we change where the value lives in music education, we may also begin changing who future music teachers aspire to become. And that may be one of the most important changes music education could make.