In 2022, I hit a major mental and emotional block in my career. After leaving a school where I had been under the leadership of a gaslighting tyrant, I started working for an administrator who, though a great person, wasn’t quite the leader I needed. At this stage in my career, I thought I had mastered the art of organizing a choral program and knew exactly what I needed to do to make it successful. But I felt stuck—held back by micromanagement, inconsistency, and poor communication from those above me. I began to notice a pattern in leadership, and worst of all, my students saw it happening, too. I was falling out of love with teaching.

In an effort to get back on track, I started therapy (shout out to Taylor, an amazing therapist in Cabarrus County at the time), and through weeks of reflection and self-discovery, I began to find myself again. It was during this process that I realized it was time for another change. I started job hunting—both within and outside of education—desperate to escape the toxic environment I was in. Months passed, but nothing came from any of my applications, and I felt stuck again. I finished the 2022-2023 school year disappointed but determined to keep going.

When the 2023-2024 school year started, I found myself in a leadership position as the team lead for electives and a mentor to the band and art teachers. Things seemed promising, but within days, all the plans and expectations I had presented to the administrative team were scrapped. I felt stuck once more and mentally braced myself for another year of hell (I actually do cuss a little 🤭).

Then, one day, a dear friend from college called. He told me about an opening at the middle school of a charter school where he worked. Charter schools were completely foreign to me. All I knew was that they often had a negative reputation, and I figured I’d lose all the experience I had accumulated over the past five years. But he reassured me that this charter school was different and that I’d be a great fit. So, reluctantly, I agreed to interview—not because I didn’t want the job, but because I didn’t know what to expect. After everything I had been through, I wasn’t expecting much. (Foreshadowing: It turned out to be the BEST thing I could’ve done for my career.)

After my interview with the arts team and the assistant principal, I was offered the job, and, of course, I accepted. I had already informed my current principal that I was seeking other employment, and luckily, she was supportive. She did mention that I would have to honor my contract for 30 days or until they found a replacement. At that point, I didn’t care; I was ready to move on, no matter what.

But then, the next day, my principal approached me after carpool dismissal.

“I have good news and bad news,” she said. “The good news is you don’t have to honor your contract! You’re free to go as soon as the new school is ready for you. The bad news is that once you leave, we’ll have to shut down the chorus program. We lost two teacher allotments, and it’s easier to dissolve your position than to start a search for a new chorus teacher this late in the year.”

I was shocked. I felt devastated. In that moment, I carried the guilt of affecting the future of over 120 middle schoolers who had not only fallen in love with our choir community but who also looked forward to concerts, field trips, and making friends. But even though I felt that weight, I knew it was for the best. I couldn’t be the teacher I needed to be in that environment anymore. Still, I wanted to give those kids something to hold onto, something they could remember.

So, in a move that might raise eyebrows (since teachers aren’t generally encouraged to share personal social media with students), I created @choirwithcorn on Instagram. I announced my resignation to the staff, then the students, then the parents. The news was not well received, and soon, upset students were telling upset parents that I had been fired. Parents took to social media, bashing the administrators. Once things were cleared up, I shared @choirwithcorn with the community, inviting students and parents to follow me so we could stay in touch and keep the choir spirit alive.

Time passed, and life started “life-ing.” I stepped away from @choirwithcorn--I couldn’t catch my breath with all that was going on.

Fast-forward to February 2025, and I started to feel the urge to do something with @choirwithcorn again—but I didn’t know what. As I reflected and prayed about it, I realized that it was a “trust the process” moment. Over the next few weeks, I rebranded the name, created a website, and decided that my goal with Choir with Corn was simple: to create a platform where I could show other choir teachers that life as a choral director isn’t always perfect.

There are plenty of directors online who only show the shiny, good sides of the job, but I want to show the full, authentic experience. I’m transparent about my journey, and I welcome anyone to ask questions. When your salary is online for everyone to see and a Google search pulls up awkward early-2010s photos, you start to realize just how little privacy you actually have.

So, here it is: Choir with Corn exists to give space to choir directors who don’t have the “perfect program,” who are still working on themselves, and who understand that teaching is only one piece of who we are. I want to share real insights and honest stories—no sugarcoating, no “lipstick-on-a-pig” crap.

After all that, I hope you’ll stick with me on this journey. I can’t promise that everything will be smooth sailing, but I can promise you’ll learn something—whether about me, teaching, or life in general.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk. <3