Don't Believe Your Own Press...Paradigm's Story

During my career in non profit and about a decade ago, I worked at one of the premier substance abuse treatment companies in the country. It is safe to say, that the company I worked for "owned" the industry in Florida. Working in that environment made it easy to forget how hard we had to work to keep the doors open and to keep our name in the public eye. Every three months, the CEO would gather all of the managers together for a leadership meeting and she always started with this phrase, "Don't believe your own press, for if you do, you will surely fall."  Companies all over the world use that phrase as a reminder that at any time, you can fail by the simple belief that you are unbeatable. In the real world, you often hear of athletes, actors, artists, entrepreneur's and businessmen fall, because somewhere along the line they believed their own press and didn't pay attention to the climate around them. Color guards are no different.

How many guards have we all seen come and go and somewhere in the process of many of those programs, there is probably a story where the staff didn't pay as close attention to the money, the membership, climate, or process as closely as they should have. Paradigm is no different and our story is one of caution and the climb back. It's one every person can probably relate to or at the very least learn from.

In 2005, Paradigm reached the height of competition as a program by placing 7th in World Class at the WGI World Championships by displaying one of the hardest and to that point one of the most standard setting flag features ever. By completing the entire phrase with our feet and in the horizontal position, it was by standards of the time a true test of the world class sheet. In the midst of the season and looking back, it was very clear that the staff hung our hat on that moment and even the program. For us, it was truly a Cinderella season, but in the midst of it all we started to believe our own press and lost who we were as a program. We believed that we had arrived and with that feeling comes arrogance. Below are just some of the mistakes we made.

• We didn't take the pulse of the emotions and sensitivities of the performers in our quest to push the envelope
• We believed that because we were a two time World finalist, kids from around Florida would just flock to us
• We didn't assess if the program was moving too fast for the financial structure
• We didn't assess the veteran status of the performers and who would come back and who wouldn't simply based on time in the program and time to move on
• We didn't assess the stress level of the staff
• We didn't assess our competitors competitive growth and proximity to us
• We didn't assess the national climate

These are just a few things we didn't assess. How do you build upon one of the best moments you've ever had? We didn't ask that question. If I remember correctly, we didn't ask a lot of questions. We moved into the next season with a simple assumption that everything would just work. We believed our own press and it backfired on us. It took us two more seasons to realize that success is fleeting and if you don't continue to spend the majority of your time focusing on the administrative side you will eventually fall. By 2007, the loss of a significant amount of the membership, and low turn out at auditions resulted in the decision that 2007, would be our last season as a program. 

The staff scattered and it took us five years to realize that we needed to be back together, but in 2012, we still didn't do it right. Once again, we believed in our own press, no matter how old that press was. In today's world of social media, texting, and the internet, it's important to realize that five years ago is a lifetime and five minutes ago is all that really matters. 

That was lesson number one.

Social Media has changed the way we recruit, communicate, and even train color guards. It is probably without a doubt the most significant shift in the way the color guard world works. Every thing you say and do is there for the world to see.

Lesson number two

The second mistake we made was that we wanted to rebrand ourselves, but in the branding process we threw out what worked and kept what didn't. We completely did it backwards. The one thing that has always worked for Paradigm, no matter whether or not we have had a good or bad season is that the staff is truly one. We act as one and function as one. We are never off message as an organization. The trust is strong. We thought that by shifting the staff around that we could rebrand, but still be Paradigm. Wrong. When we did that we lost the soul of the program.

Keep what works and know what doesn't work. Take ego out of the equation.

Lesson number three

After a disastrous 2012 season, we attempted 2013 and realized that there was no way we could come back out without a plan. After a disappointing audition and difficulty securing the right staff, we made the decision for the second time in our history to fold the program, but this time, would only be temporary. We would spend the 2013 season planning. In December of 2012, what would have been a design camp, we met as a staff and brought in a few outside opinions and spent two days hammering out a strategic plan that would expire in April 2016. At the end of 2016, our goal was to walk on the floor in A finals. I can only speak for myself, but at times my ego got in the way as how do you go from World Finals and a standard setting, standing ovation moment, to making a three year plan to make finals in Independent A class? I struggled internally with that.

Let you ego go if you want to save the program. It's about the program...not about you.

Lesson number four

You have to figure out how to re-brand and rebuild without living in the past, but keeping the spirit of the tradition alive. 

In the two days of strategic planning, there was much debating, arguing, and at times some storming out of the room. We had to agree to drop blame and leave the past behind. This was hard, because it was the time that we had to agree that yes we screwed up and yes we should have paid more attention to the dynamics of the program, but there was no one person that could be pointed to that owned that blame. This was when we discovered that we truly were friends, that everyone owned a stake in the program and doing that allowed us to put Paradigm first.

Lesson number five

When you strategic plan, it's crucial that all voices are heard. Opinions matter and dreaming big is a necessary step. Strategic planning is a concept of starting big and ending with realistic short term and long term goals. It takes commitment by all involved. We were honest with each other and all agreed to specific tasks and were held accountable for those tasks. 

Listen to each other no matter how crazy the idea's are and brainstorm as a group.

Lesson number six

When we started the planning session everyone was given an assignment. "Write down the companies you feel have the qualities you want to see in a color guard." There was no wrong answer. Starbucks, Target, Fed Ex, the Rays Foundation were all mentioned. Comments such as, "great customer service" and "efficient" were just a couple of reasons those companies were mentioned. The question was also asked in reverse. "Who do you not want to mirror?" We discussed other guards and drum corps that we respected and didn't respect as organizations. We made a list of qualities that we wanted and did not want as an organization.

Family, financially viable, unique, community, open door policy, and advocates were words frequently used.

Don't reinvent the wheel. Learn from others and take the most necessary qualities you want to see in your organization.

Lesson number seven

Setting goals was the crucial step. Once we decided who we wanted to be, we needed to decide what type of competitive organization we wanted to be. We knew a couple of things. We would have to be patient. There was no rushing to get back to World and we were willing to take as long as needed to get the right kids, staff, and financial backing into place. Nothing was going to replace the foundation that the kids come first and our goal has always been to be a place where any performer can feel at home. Patience allowed us to look at the financial picture with open eyes and invited new ideas from other creative and business outlets. 

Be patient and build your foundation. The finances, staff, and performers need to grow as one entity and not separate aspects of the program.

Lesson number eight

In the process of strategic planning we did what is called asset mapping. We made a list of every color guard within driving distance. We looked at their staff's. We looked at where the kids were gravitating to and why. This was a long process, but helped us identify where we should be located and how we should recruit. It taught us to not waste time recruiting from certain area's and helped us reach out the the right staff members. It helped us find our niche' area. This then helped us look for rehearsal facilities and find a community to "own." One of the most crucial pieces of Paradigm is that we believe that a color guard, band, or drum corps should find a community to not just exist in, but to be a part of. Community is what started this entire activity to begin with and we made a goal as a group that we would return our program to the roots of the activity.

Look at your community. Do they even want you there? How can you work with the community to gain their support? 

Lesson number nine

Mentor and succession plan. This was the next step. There was no way that Paradigm would exist with the current staff structure. We realized that it was time for the older staff to serve as mentor and consultant and the younger staff needed the opportunity to step up to design, tech, and administrate. So that's what we did. We created a succession plan. The goal was to turn the program over to the right young people and make it theirs. We vetted staff carefully for not just skill, but to make sure their philosophy fit our philosophy. Most of the current staff have performed in the program before, but not all. Outside experiences are crucial. Moving staff positions around was also crucial to this plan. We had to find where the best fit was for all involved.

Once you reach the top, it's important to send the elevator back down. Mentor those invested in your program and give them the chance to be successful under their name...not yours.

Lesson number ten....MONEY

Money was not going to be left to chance. In no way, under any circumstances were we going to function in the red. We would fold, before go broke. We also knew we would not exploit the performers for dues. Keeping the dues manageable, while staying competitive was our biggest goal. We knew that making money outside traditional fundraising means was a necessary component to keeping Paradigm afloat and making money just to survive was not an option. So we laid out every idea we could think of to raise our public profile, write grants, and raise money in the non traditional sense. We worked it like a business first and color guard second. Let me repeat that.

We function as a business first and color guard second. It's the only way to survive in the long term and everyone on staff is required to understand that.

In the end, our taking the 2013 season off  to assess the climate and write a strategic plan, was the best thing we ever did. That one weekend in December 2012, set us up for walking on the finals floor in Dayton in 2016. The current strategic plan has expired and it's time for another one. We will follow the same structure and invite outside voices to the table. All opinions will matter. It was a long road back to the finals floor, but the biggest lesson we learned is that we will never again...believe our own press. We will assess and assess and assess. We as staff members ask the kids to always look at their rehearsals and shows to assess their performance and our philosophy is that we as the adults should also as well. See you on the floor in 2017. Who knows where the next strategic plan will take us??

When Winter Guard Left the Kitchen Table for the Board Room

As of last weekend, the official start to the WGI regional season has begun. Before that though, guards started their season sometime back in August with the first drop spin on a football field or if you are an independent guard, the first press release announcing when auditions were. As an instructor, the regional is our way of figuring out if all the work was worth it. We do a lot of soul searching. We ask questions of ourselves. Where did we go wrong? Where did we go right? Is it really about the kids or are we happy, because we as grown adults have been validated by a panel of 5 who may or may not be the best at what they do. Still though, we have no problem justifying either way the score goes, be it good or bad.

I was in Houston this past weekend. It's the first time I've been to an out of state regional representing a guard outside of Florida in a long time.  Being in Houston was interesting. As a consultant for a guard, I was able to sit back and just enjoy the day. Teach a little. Watch a little. Talk a lot.

I find regional's an interesting test case of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs. It's actually rather primal if you think about it and the more "actualized" you are, the more you are able to manage the stress. As least, that's the best analogy I can come up with. Everyone faces it. Judges, Contest Staff, Hosts, Instructors, and Kids. I'll be the first to admit that I would love to say I'm self actualized, but I've had my moments at a regional when I look at some volunteer sitting at check in and give her the stink eye, because she wanted me to wait for my entire unit, instead of just giving me my damn arm band so I could go to the bathroom. Those days, I'm glad to say are pretty much gone. Now I'm like, "Alright. I'll just go and pee at the McDonalds next to the school. Some french fries sound good while I'm at it. I hope there's a bar next to said McDonald's" Whatever. Rules are rules.

It has been an interesting season so far. While WGI's season just started last weekend, mine started last fall and will continue until Dayton...as did theirs. We forget sometimes that it's not just the guards that plan all year; the show sponsors do as well. The circuits plan. The boosters plan. We've all been planning and it's the first weekend in February where we all look at each other hoping the planning came together the way it should have. I've had a lot of conversations since the fall revolving around the concept of "where are we at as an activity?" It comes up everywhere. EVERYWHERE. In the stands. While judging. In critique. In the bar over cocktails. It comes up in rehearsals when we are trying to figure out what is it that really makes up an A class guard today. What is an intermediate or advanced skill? We'll ask ourselves, "Are we A or Open?" Everyone is talking about where the activity is going. "Why does world class look the way it does? Do I like it? Should I?" I just wish these conversations were more public. There appears at times to be a secrecy to the conversations. Why, I don't know. I was talking to someone this weekend and I said that my days teaching Independent World are most likely finished. Even the guards I'm involved with, if the day does come again that we reach World, I'm not sure I want to be a part of it. Making finals or not making finals doesn't scare me. Trust me on that one. I simply don't want to teach anyone over the age of 23. I just don't. It's not that I don't like 30 year old performers, I just don't want to do it. I think I have more to offer a 16 year wide eyed young person exploring the activity for the first time, than a late twenty something performer who has marched for over a decade in three or four different guards and drum corps. Some love being involved in the design process of World Class and others don't. Some would rather coach kids and others would rather develop the art. Neither is right or wrong and neither makes someone more or less talented than the other. In these conversations, I realized that the problem we have as an activity is the split in philosophy. At the heart of our soul, some of us feel that we are first a youth based activity and second a competitive art based activity and others see it opposite.

I'm going to say this out loud and put my cards on the table. It's something I wish more people would have the guts to do. I believe we are split as an activity and I believe that it will not get better until dialog, honesty, and humility become our mantra. Transparency is crucial to an activity trying to flourish like ours. People are being pulled in different directions and the secret text messages, public Facebook posts, and private bar room chats are a perfect example of it. There was a time many moons ago when you would hear stories of local circuits and even WGI counting the money from a show, while sitting at a kitchen table late at night hoping beyond hope that they at the very least broke even. I was teaching Shaktai, when it was the units that still hosted the regional's. I remember watching Ron Comfort count money at 3 a.m., hoping the gamble to host a regional was worth it.

We have changed. We have grown. We did what we all hoped would happen. We have truly become an international activity. We no longer count the receipts at the kitchen table. We are corporate based with high end sponsors, a lot of rules, and a lot of processes. With every season comes a new rule...A new way of doing things, but I'm not sure what the thinking should be or if we are on the same page with that thinking. Personally, I struggle to keep up. I've gotten to the point that I could care less how nationals is seeded or if we are going to have a black floor covering or tan one. I care about where we are headed and how we plan to get there. In the past decade, we grew faster as an activity than we ever did in the 30 years prior. There was a time we were smaller, people knew each other better, there were less guards, and at a regional you could smile and say hi to a judge without the judge or instructor feeling as if they had committed some major infraction. I get it. The more sophisticated we become, the more rules that must be in place. People though, a lot of people actually, miss those days. We know we can't go back, but many of us are trying to figure out how to have a marriage between the kitchen table and the board room.

Technology has changed the way we teach and judge. It has changed how shows are run and when there is a technology breakdown, all systems come to a halt. However, we know that there's no going back. Two weeks ago I judged in a local circuit and we laughed about the days you would get 50 tapes on two prongs and got excited as the night would go on and as the tapes became less and less. We know those days are gone and thank God for it. However, we still miss the sense of communication and togetherness.

Our split as an activity though, is not about technology or the fact that things happen at shows beyond the control of anyone's best intentions. We are split, because we are wondering how to hold on to the youth based, training base aspect of the activity, while embracing the growth of the art. I've worked my entire career in the nonprofit sector. I've seen nonprofits grow so fast that it fractures the organization and within that fracture is a loss of staff, volunteers, and oftentimes money. I've seen organizations have what's called mission creep. When I consult with nonprofits and see mission creep, I ask them if that's the direction they really want to go. I tell them that the money might be good, but they could lose their core base and the public attention might not be worth it. I ask them to be methodical in the communication process and strategic in how quickly or slowly they move. There have been a number of significant changes in the past 15 years or so that took us from color guard to international pageantry. We added percussion. We eliminated age outs. We added winds. None of it's bad, but with every significant addition, there has to be the infrastructure in place both nationally and locally to truly manage it and I see that we are at times functioning with a corporate mentality, but a kitchen table approach...hence problems at regional's that cause people to talk.

I spent last night looking around the web. I went on probably 10 different circuit websites give or take, as well as WGI's website. I read the mission statement of each organization...if I could find it. Want to know what I found? About half of the organization's don't mention the word "youth" in their mission. That is significant and it's huge. I make a living out of reading mission statements of nonprofits, because the mission is the core of what you're about. So I realized something. We are split as an activity, because we all didn't move in the same direction together. Is it the kids or the competitive pageantry? Is it both? It can be. WGI's mission statement doesn't mention the word "youth" at all, but it classifies itself as a "nonprofit  youth organization" in its "About" section. Does that matter? Some would say it's just semantics. As someone who works for a funder of youth services, the word "youth" damn well be in the mission somewhere. Some mission statements I reviewed mention education, while some don't. Some mention competition, while others don't. What struck me, was how "youth" was not a recurring theme that ran through all of them. North Texas actually had a great sentence in their mission and it included all stakeholders, such as band directors and parents. That was refreshing to see.

Does all this matter? Hell yes it does! It matters, because that's where the split in mindset is coming from. Some of us see our jobs as youth coaches, while others see their jobs as a financial venture to offer performers the opportunity to be successful in this wonderful and creative art. Neither are wrong and you can actually do both at the same time. We just have to recognize that there are two sides to this. There are kids involved in this activity and this activity costs a lot of money and manpower. There are people making a lot of money from those kids and off the backs of their parents. I'm not just talking here about WGI or consultants of programs. The money is also made by costume companies, equipment sales, and travel agents. This isn't new to youth sports by any means. Just look at little league baseball. Millions of dollars are funneled through little league baseball. Corporate sponsorship, private coaches, and travel teams changed the sport forever. They've learned to adapt, but it took a long time and there are people in that world who are still unhappy about it, because with the corporate sponsorship's came a loss of community based baseball.

In what I see in my participation in the activity as a judge and consultant, are a lot of young instructors struggling to survive in an era that's very different than when I was their age. Risk management is a lot different now then it was when I was a twenty something. For example, I wasn't background checked when I taught in the early 90's, but now we are all background checked, because a little girl was kidnapped and Penn State hosted a youth camp where boys were molested in the showers. When I came up in the activity, the design wasn't as sophisticated, so I could spend more time thinking about the program and technique. Things have changed, but we don't always address those changes and the impact it has at the local level. Some people think it's WGI's responsibility as the "premiere" pageantry organization to lead the charge for this new movement of pageantry. Some believe it's the circuit's job and instructor education should occur at the local level. Some feel that it's the programs themselves that should take their own responsibility, thus making this a true dog eat dog world. Whatever the answer, there are a lot of opinions on this right now and organizations are working against each other without maybe even realizing it.

This is what I would do if I were in charge. I would pull every mission statement of every circuit and color guard that had one and look at them for consistency. I would look to see how far apart or how close together we are in our thinking. I would ask through well conceived survey's of director's and circuit boards, where it is they see the activity headed and how they would go about it. I would get feedback. I would send a survey out to every judge, every director, every WGI staff member after every regional and start tracking what went right and what went wrong. Take the fear and ego out of it and carefully analyze what is working and what is not and just because a show on the front end ran well and the scores were just perfect, does not mean everything ran well for all involved. A well structured survey might identify that the staff of a guard did not read their packets and let's be honest; that's their own damn fault. However, if we know that enough young guard instructors don't know to read a packet or how to really read through the packet, then that's where we start the education process and this was just a simple basic example. If through the survey's we find out that everyone was pissed off at the sound system, such as the case in Houston, then the surveys give a good outlook on how to manage public relations so the gossip is stopped in its tracks. By the way, I would do this at the local level as well.

To think that we as an activity are not on different pages is naive and if we are truly in this for the kids, then we owe it to them to figure out how we went from the kitchen table to the board room and what that really means for the next 30 years of the activity. There are ways for most everyone to get what they want. We can go international, make money, and keep a side of the activity that is truly based on the competitive aspect of pageantry for those that want to win and keep the youth side for those that just want to stay local and build a little guard program that attends one or two regional's a year. We can do this. We just have to acknowledge it first and for the love of God...we've got to have open dialog with open minds and open hearts.

But He Didn't Pay His Dues...Whose Fault Is It Anyway?

Boy try's out for guard. Boy performs in guard. Boy makes finals with guard. Boy see's that the grass is greener on the other side of the gym. Boy tries out for new guard. Boy makes guard. Boy ditches old guard and leaves them hanging out to dry. Boy owes money...a lot of money. New guard takes boy on knowing of his debt. It's like a heart warming fairy tale and ahhh...it so warms my heart. Promises are broken, ethics are breached and everyone asks the question...Whose fault is it anyway?

To be clear, this post is about the issues independent guards face in the struggle to get young twenty something’s to pay their dues. This is not about under aged minors in the scholastic arena, whose parents are paying the fees at a public school. That is a different topic, with a much different argument.

Every year, EVERY SINGLE YEAR, since I have been teaching, I have been involved with or been witness to the obligatory fight of the kid who didn't pay dues and is now performing somewhere else. They almost always end the same way. Old guard gets mad at new guard. New guard doesn't know how or why this is their issue and performer gets his/her way and marches anyway. In the middle of the drama, lies adults on both sides spending their time arguing about a twenty something brat. And yes. They are brats. The idea of not paying dues and stiffing an organization for the balance is bratty, egotistical, irresponsible, and in some circles could be called stealing.

Now that I have skewered the performer, let's take a look at the problem and why the solution is multi-faceted and difficult. To give you some context, I have been teaching in the independent arena for the majority of my guard career. I like it. I like the freedom it give me as an instructor and I like the opportunities it affords me creatively. Independent guards however, have pitfalls and the biggest pitfall of all is without a doubt money. When I think about this topic, I often think about the aged old reason many of us do this. We do it for the kids. We do it to help them get a leg up on life and use the activity to help teach lessons. We teach teamwork, punctuality, leadership, respect for self, respect for team, and respect for community; all lessons needed to survive in life. It's the latter of the lessons however, where we tend to fall short. Each September, hundreds if not thousands of young hopefuls gather in gyms to audition for their favorite independent guard. They are offered positions, sign contracts, create the obligatory Facebook post sharing the joy with their friends. 

Somewhere in that year however, something goes awry. This excited performer realizes they are in over their head as they fail to fulfill the contract they signed, promising to pay for the services of the guard. I am always floored when we get to Dayton and I hear stories of performers who went into prelims owing dues into the hundreds, sometimes the thousands.  How did that happen? It happened, because the guard the person was marching in failed in their responsibilities as well. Period. The performer was allowed to miss payments, but keep rehearsing. They were allowed to attend shows, but continue to miss payments. They were allowed to buy the new iPhone 12 and take pictures of the guard with that iPhone 12, while not paying a dime. They were allowed to lie while saying, "Yes, I'll have you a payment this weekend," when in fact they never intended to live up to their obligation. In defense of the guards in question, often times the burden comes in when decisions have to be made that could negatively impact the actual show, in a time when filling a hole is not advisable. Independent guards are often caught between a rock and a hard place. We live in a time when the independent performer had the upper hand. The market, so to speak, is saturated with guards trying to be successful. These guards need to fill the floor with performers just so they will have the possibility of staying in existence. They make deals with the performers in good faith. Many performers know and take advantage of the fact that the contracts they sign really aren't worth the paper they are written on, because only a handful of guards actually follow through with legal action for failing to pay. It almost reminds me of the housing market bubble. Too many houses. Bad loans. Failure to pay. BUST!

My own child, as most children are, participates in a variety of activities. He takes karate lessons and plays baseball. I pay $175 for a season of baseball and $135 a month for karate. ALL PAID UP FRONT! It's not a choice and not an option. If my kid wants to play...I must pay. So why, why don't our independent guards function like a private business? If we as colorguards signed rental agreements, paid monthly insurance, hired instructors, and earned a living off of the sport, then you bet these kids...no adults...would be paying up front. But oh wait…we do rent facilities, pay insurance, and hire instructors. So what is it? Is it that many directors in our activity don’t understand that budgeting is not just about balancing what comes in to what goes out, but also the risk of nonpayment to the organization in the long run?

We as an activity say that our job is to raise responsible kids in the name of pageantry. It's practically our mantra, but when the biggest lesson of all must be learned, we oftentimes fall short. Sometimes it’s our own ego and often our own naievty that exacerbates the problem. When talking to directors about this, I frequently ask the following question. If we let this person fail to pay, what service are we doing to those who actually did pay? What precedent are we setting when others find out that one person performed on the backs of the responsible payee’s of the team? Most independent staffs work for free and pay their own travel, food, and lodging. They are volunteering their services in the name of the creative process and the joy of being a part of the organization, but what happens when those on the team fail in their duties? Winter Guard is no longer a small activity functioning out of the kitchen of Lynn Lindstrom. This is a multi-million dollar, multi-faceted international industry. Think about that. How many other industries with this amount of dollars flowing through it would allow this? No longer do "kids" make up the independent classes, especially the World and Open class. Many, possibly most, are adults in their twenties who are grown men and women capable of signing a contract and following through with said contract. If those adults fail to plan for their finances, such as calculating the cost of dues, gas to rehearsal, food during the weekends, extras such as rehearsal attire, jacket, and the obligatory end of season professional group photo, then maybe they need to not participate. It is not our job as an activity, at the risk of the units, to make up for their financial messiness. It is theirs. When an independent team takes on a performer who owes another team, what do you think they will do to you? I do agree with the argument that it isn't the new guard’s job to collect past dues for another, any more than it would be a new baseball team to collect past dues for my child. It is however, shortsighted and damaging to the activity as a whole. This system of ours breeds entitlement among the performers and we need it to stop.

As I write this, I'm reminded how often times in this activity we care so much that we forget that sometimes tough love is the best love. We are at our very core a soft-natured people. We don't want to turn anyone away and let’s be honest…we also don’t want to re-write a show. Many in this activity are more of an artist than a businessman, but any artist will tell you that without the business…the art will die. We are competitive and clamor for the talented kids and that competitive nature sometimes puts in positions with the membership that is damaging. When some young independent directors start a guard, they do so with the dream of one day being the next Pride. No one comes out hoping to be the next 30 year non-finalist. They see finals and medals and the art of design and the hope of infamy. They don’t see budget sheets and contracts and risk management plans, thus creating the beginning of the downfall. 

I have come to believe that the winterguard activity is more than just an art. It's a fine art. When I go to an art festival and fall in love with a  painting that costs let's say $1,500 and would look just perfect in my living room bringing me years of joy, I look at my bank account to determine if it is financially feasible for my circumstance. If after looking at my account I decide that paying that amount of money for a painting is out of my reach, then I must turn around and admire it from afar. I cannot, under any circumstance, pick up that painting and start running with it without payment. When we have performers who sign a contract to pay and then do not and don't make payments toward that debt, then they are stealing our art and that is in fact wrong.  

The Case For Why Your Dues For Band, Drum Corps, and Winter Guard Are Worth Every Dime

So after a less than pleasant day at work, I was driving home thinking about the nice frothy cocktail that would be waiting for me upon the conclusion of my very aggressive krav maga class, where I would be able to basically beat the hell out of my day and then put it to bed. I had a disagreement with a colleague who has difficulty thinking through the multiple alternatives to a problem. It reminded me of a situation years before where a colleague demonstrated that their critical thinking skills exist in a world based on ego and self-esteem. As this person who was a long time member of the team was told that her suggestions for a solution lacked insight, she became defensive and shut down. Later in the day she resorted to middle school tactics and went and "tattled" to the boss, making an already uncomfortable situation, a situation now based on lack of trust.

While thinking about my day and my nice frothy cocktail, my mind for some reason drifted to my years of color guard. I was lucky to have been zoned for a high school with a great marching band. Almost everything I know and everything I believe, in terms of how I treat people, how I handle problems, and my ability to creatively manage a tough situation, comes from that marching band. In my career as a performer, I was lucky to get to play an instrument, spin a flag, get hit in the face with a rifle, and have arms bruised by the blade of a Spanish Sabre. I performed at BOA nationals (when it was MBA), the infamous Tennessee Contest of Champions, Drum Corps International World Championships, and the Winter Guard World Championships. The build up to those competitions and the lessons learned, have stayed with me well into my 40's and no amount of money spent in college or in professional classes, will ever match what I learned during my years as a national competitor. My very core comes from years spent with band directors and guard instructors who wouldn't give up on me and demanded that I demand more from myself.

So, if you are a parent or young person wondering if the money is worth it, please know that it is. Every dime. Every tear. Every bruise. Every visit to the emergency room. Every push up. Every late night on a football field. Every disagreement. Every lap ran around the track. It's all worth it and let me give the young people out there, the current performers of our activity 10 reasons why.

1. Because early is on time and on time is late!

Enough said. Seriously...enough said.

2. Because your band director is too busy to deal with your petty arguments with your co-performers.

Work it out, because it's only band camp and it's going to be a long season if you don't. In the stress and pain of any competitive season, learning to work with others will be your saving grace. This is life and in life you will have disagreements and whining to the boss should not be your first option. (In most cases it shouldn't be an option at all.)

3. Because your actions impact not just you, but the team.

If you are successful, then they are successful. If you give up and quit, then those who did not give up and quit are still impacted by your selfish actions. There are fewer people who can work as a team than you will ever know. It's a skill not many have. Pageantry will teach it to you. There is no doubt about that.

4. Because your actions have consequences.

If you don't practice there are consequences, If you are late there are consequences. If you don't listen to instructions there are consequences. If you gossip there are consequences. If you try to be an individual and not a team player then, there...are...consequences. In the workplace there are consequences for missing deadlines, being late, having an anger outburst, or just for having a bad day and those consequences could be career killers. Learn this lesson while you are young.

5. Because you don't get to choose who you will do that flag exchange with.

The person marching next to you or throwing a flag at your head might just be the most uncoordinated person next to a fish trying to climb a tree. Learn to work with them and get over it. This isn't about you and the fact that you can do something better than someone else. It's about your ability to find a gem in the most awkward person.

6. Because you might not like your staff.

Your staff might be mean. They may lack experience. They could very possibly lack talent. Your staff may just be the most respected and talented group of people ever assembled in a gym and they still might screw it all up. Here's the thing, though. You are stuck with them and they are stuck with you. Learn now how to manage situations that could lead to ultimate failure and learn to work through that failure without blame. Learn to not quit when things get hard.

7. Because the team outweighs the individual always and there is no one who ever gets their own individual score.

You aren't the soloist. You aren't the 50 yard line diva.  You aren't the drum major. You aren't the flute player who only gets to play one note the entire phrase. You aren't just the freshman flag on the end of the line who nobody sees. You are part of an ensemble and everyone matters and everyone is seen. Everyone has a voice in the chorus and sometimes being in the back of the line is just as important as being the lead dog and most of the time...it will teach you more.

8.  Because you won't win every competition you go to.

You might even get last place. (Someone has to be) You might be 25 points out of first place. Your team might even get unfairly judged or an error on the judges score sheet will keep your team from getting a trophy. This is life and life is often unfair, without explanation and without an apology. Please get over it. There's work to be done.

9. Because performing in front of a crowd is one of the hardest things you will ever do.

You will panic. You will be so nervous you might throw up. You might screw it up so bad you set your equipment up on the wrong side of the floor. You might miss the note or drop the rifle. These shows will teach you resilience. They will teach you how to recover and keep going. This skill in life is more important than anything. Learn the word. RESILIENCE! Say it again. RESILIENCE! You are going to need it and there is no better place to learn it than marching band, winter guard, or drum corps.

10. Friendship.

When you are ready to attend your 25 year class reunion it won't be the people you graduated with that you will want to see the most. It will be the people who stood next to you for an entire season while you learned to throw a quad, that you will want to see the most. It will be the person who sat next to you on the bus, who comforted you after you messed up that one note during your solo. It will be that person who said to you that the staff was crazy when they yelled at you for missing your drill set. The friends you make while preparing for those competitions are lifetime friends. You will long for them. You will miss them and nothing will replace them. There is no other time in life that I can think of when life long friends are made throughout the course of struggle and defeat.

When your band director or staff uses the phrase, "This is a life lesson," then listen. They are right. Life is hard. It's very hard, but the hard comes with rewards. Tom Hanks said it best in the movie, "A League of Their Own," when he uttered the very famous line, "It's supposed to be hard. If it wasn't hard everyone would do it. The hard is what makes it great." The reward is the beauty that comes from starting and finishing something that you never thought you could. When working on a tough project, I often know within minutes who has never had a coach tell them they are wrong or played on a team where their every move depended on their preparation and actions and although not a pure science, they tend to lack the ability to listen and the ability to use critical thought. Years back, I was working on a project at work that wasn't going well. There were about 10 people on the team. Most of the team either got lazy or gave up. Some wanted to take credit for the work once it was done. Some wanted to only critique the work, without offering their sweat in the process of the work. I found that there was this one man who was working as hard as me. He was creative and critically thought through all processes of the project. One day while the two of us were re-thinking the project, he made a comment that made me know that I was in the presence of a "family member." He said, "You know...sometimes all you can do is shine S**T." I laughed and asked him if he had ever participated in marching band, as that is a phrase often used by staff members. He told me he had not just participated in marching band, but drum corps also. Needless to say, the rest of the day we didn't really work, but talked about drum corps. Furthermore, it was two pageantry people who finished the project and made it shine like gold.

I dedicate this to every hard ass instructor and coach I ever had.

The Cost of Pageantry...Is It Worth It?

About a year ago, I was asked as a part of my job to do a little field research on the cost of extra-curricular activities on families. The purpose of this task was to determine whether or not the quasi-governmental entity I work for could fund underprivileged children's participation in youth activities to help level the playing field in areas of education and the obesity epidemic. If funding wasn't possible, then the project at the least would allow us to advocate and create position papers on why it is not only important, but necessary that all children have access to extra-curricular activities. What I came up with was not shocking to anyone who has been around youth activities for any length of time and in fact, much of the research was already done for me by author, Mark Hyman who wrote a book called, "The Most Expensive Game In Town: The Rising Cost of Youth Sports and the Toll on Today's Families." 

Anyone who knows me well enough knows that I'm an advocate for research and statistics. I've spoken about it on this blog, on Facebook, circuit meetings and anywhere anyone will listen. I think they are vital to not just understanding our culture, but without it we can't create public policy that makes sense and we can't really understand ourselves. Without data, our lives just go on moment to moment without any true understanding of the connections to those around us. We never truly know the answers to the why's and debate is almost pointless.



In my brief bout with researching extracurricular activities, I looked at dance, drama, hockey (note to self...way to expensive), tennis, golf, beauty pageants, every ball sport imaginable, and of course music, band, and winter guard. The project put me in touch with numerous people who were writing blogs on the cost of youth athletics. I had many phone calls with parents, coaches, and national industry leaders. Their opinions were sometimes shocking and sometimes appalling. Some of their opinions however, were ones of great concern for the direction youth activities are taking in this country and how youth activities are becoming less affordable and more white.

This is what we know and what research already tells us. If you can get a kid in any activity that requires discipline at an early age, they will be less likely to drop out of school, less likely to have issues with sedentary behavior, lower obesity rates, a stronger work ethic, and friends who are more likely to not participate in self destructive behaviors outside of the norm of teenage insanity.

So when looking at these sports activities several trends kept popping up that eventually became the recommendation from me that it would not be possible for us to fund youth activities at a rate that would make a significant difference. Unfortunately, in the world of funding "significance" is vitally important, especially to the tax payer. Here are just a few reasons my recommendation was a fairly definitive no:

• Transportation 
• Ever wonder why kids quit? Ask about transportation first.
• Additional and hidden costs outside of the original contract
• Parental Involvement that is not the issue of the parent, but issue of the activity and its unrealistic expectations
• Fundraising based on poor budgeting, poor planning, and surprises 
• Seasons that last for an entire year and not just a "season"
• Unregulated activities that could put children at risk such as a lack of consistency in background checks, lack of training for coaches, lack of understanding of youth development, and a lack of consistent data to prove need

When I looked at all the activities, I realized something that became very clear to me. Pageantry, with all of its issues is probably the cheapest activity with the biggest return on investment. The problem with pageantry; marching band, winter guard, winter drum line, and drum corps, which are cheap comparatively to other activities, is that we exist under the radar. When you live under the radar, what might seem the best answer for the time can actually harm the ultimate mission. Pageantry falls into the traps that other sports do. It exhausts the household budget and doesn't give parents much of a reprieve if the child participates at the state or national level. Just like other sports, there are good programs and bad. There are good instructors and bad instructors. One thing that I did notice in my research is that the pageantry arts for the most part does not take a strength based approach to training its instructors. A person barely in their 20's, with no teaching background, no experience managing money, no experience managing facilities, and no understanding of risk management can find themselves in charge of a guard program.  Band is a little different as the director usually must have a college degree and is governed by the school they are hired by. Sometimes though, even a band director has little understanding of what their tasks are as they try to balance students, parents, administration, and budget. Many of the budgets take on well over 6 figures a year and parents are asked to pay into those budgets without much understanding as to what they are really paying for. 

Now, pageantry is not the only sport to have these problems, but our problems are unique in the sense that there are no "private clubs" to sign your child up for to make them better for the "varsity team." There are no "little league" winter guard programs for the elementary children to participate in and compete against. Parent's don't put their children in marching band with the hope of getting a college scholarship or playing for the non existent professional league or Olympics. The majority of parents see marching band and winter guard as a good activity to keep their child busy, teach them a lesson or two, and get them some much needed exercise. Some parents unfortunately see pageantry as a fairly expensive baby sitting service without truly grasping its true beauty and the passion involved. The community certainly doesn't see the passion, the work, and the benefit. So, with all we do and with all the expense, we aren't seen as a major player in the world of youth activity, even though we serve thousands a year. 

I'm often amazed that with as many people in this country that have participated in marching band, drum corps, and winterguard, that there are still people who ask what the hell it is. This makes fundraising and advocating for funds difficult. The beauty of pageantry is that we have virtually gone unnoticed by big marketing and companies such as Nike, Gatorade, and Under Armour. When a kid joins the band, there aren't big hopes of going to the Olympics in 4 years. A student holding a trombone for the first time as a 5th grader doesn't usually have visions of playing the Star Spangled Banner at the Super Bowl one day. They are usually just playing because it's fun. We have managed to create an activity that is one of the few ones left untouched by big business. We haven't been tainted by the buying and selling of the talents of children. It's a double edged sword, though. Being under the radar makes it very difficult to create community buy-in and buy-in is exactly what we need right now. We need it, because it is becoming too expensive and we are pricing families out of it. We are pricing families out who have never been priced out before. Much of this is the fault of the economy, but some of it is the fault of an activity who hasn't looked at ways to bring costs down. In all reality, if my child came to me today and said he had been accepted by one of the top 12 drum corps, I'm not sure he could march. We simply don't have that much disposable income. 

This is unacceptable! 

We need every kid who wants to pick up an instrument, play a drum, spin a flag, or dance a phrase to be able to. The costs of the actual program are just the start, because we also have to consider that by the time a child reaches high school, the family has been paying for years of athletics, might have other children, and are saving for college...and this is just middle class. 

We are an activity that CAN get kids through high school. If we can figure out a way to get music, dance, and flags in their hands starting in elementary school, then we might just have an advocate for life. I can see a world where children who grow up in poverty will get the gift of music and with that we build their math skills, passion for school, and a place that is safe and monitored. 

How do we do it?

Well, we start by understanding that the solution lies in the longevity of the activity. We create buy in by the people who have already participated. We build a case. We say that every kid and parent who wants to play can, because the community is going to support them. We figure out the transportation problem once and for all. We make it unacceptable for any parent to say that their child can't participate because the school is too far away and they can't afford the cost of gas. We figure out how to lower the costs of participation fees by getting the community to give us gym space, stages, and field time. We teach instructors how to consign equipment, uniforms, and save on travel. We teach instructors and directors that maybe they shouldn't make every season a travel season to Dayton, so they can raise funds in the off year. We make sure that instruments and long term instruction on how to play those instruments get into the hands of every child who has ever desired to play. We professionalize instruction and do our best to insure that none of our instructors end up as the opening story to the nightly news for inappropriate actions with a minor or misappropriating funds. We make it unacceptable for the community and private sector to turn their backs on the activity. We show them that with their investment children graduate high school, which ultimately brings unemployment and the crime rate down. Seems pie in the sky? Well, we use to fund little league baseball for that very reason. 

We build a case. We collect data and prove that with the long term participation in the pageantry arts that children have a better chance of graduation and higher rate of entering college. We take the thousands of alumni of this activity from decades of pageantry and we speak in one voice that we want every child to experience the passion we had the luck to experience. We stop writing proposals at the local and national level that focus on the needs of a few units and that almost border on the nature of ego and greed. 

I was brought this up to a friend of mine once. He said that if a student wanted to participate they could. He said that the parents were just lazy. The fee for the program he teaches at over the course of an entire school year is approximately $3,500. Even with fundraising, that amount of money for many families is virtually impossible. I asked him point blank, "How do kids who are poor fund raise  when most fundraising for youth activities occurs within the community they live?" There was no answer. I then asked him how a single mother would manage transportation with rehearsals over 3 times a week, football games, and shows on Saturdays. What if she worked shift work and the child doesn't live in the community with the school, but takes a bus in? So the answer is that we just say, "It was luck of the draw kid. Sorry."

You see, these are all considerations that I believe is time to discuss, because it's not just flags in a gym anymore. I know people that have said this activity saved their life and in the times we live in, our children could certainly use this activity. We have to ask questions, debate, and find solutions. We have to create a community advocacy plan and speak the same language from the national level all the way to the local community recreation centers. We need people at the state capitols and in Washington. This is not just about music education, because if it were we would just leave it up to the school systems, which are already under funded and under staffed. 

I believe that this problem is complex and the solutions aren't easy, but I believe if we do it right, then we can turn a generation of kids on to pageantry in a way that has never been imagined. I can see a day where the Dayton floor is made up of the melting pot of the U.S. Census and not one of income disparity. It's time to re-imagine the picture of what pageantry is and see if our reach can go way beyond to floor of Dayton and the football field of Indianapolis.