Don't Kill the Interest. Educate the Interest.

There is a conversation happening about our children, music, education, and what we consider a "real" future.

And I understand the concern.

Somebody says the city would be better off teaching children things that lead directly to financial stability instead of teaching them music that might eventually leave them working low-paying tourist gigs.

On the surface, that sounds practical.

But I think the premise deserves to be questioned.

Because somewhere along the way, we've created a false choice:

Education or music.

Financial stability or culture.

Career or creativity.

Why?

Who said they can't have both?

Music is education.

Let's start there.

Music is mathematics.

It's science.

It's history.

It's technology.

It's art.

It's discipline.

It's coordination.

It's memory.

It's communication.

It's teamwork.

It's problem-solving.

It's listening.

It's timing.

And if you're talking about marching band, you're adding physical conditioning, spatial awareness, memorization, accountability, leadership, and the ability to execute complicated instructions as part of a larger organization.

You don't just learn how to play.

You learn how to function.

That's education.

And for some children, music is the very thing that keeps them connected to education.

A child who doesn't necessarily care about sitting in a classroom can become deeply invested when you put an instrument in their hands and give them something to work toward.

Suddenly, they have a reason to practice.

A reason to show up.

A reason to listen.

A reason to improve.

A reason to be responsible for something bigger than themselves.

That's not trapping a child.

That's giving them an entry point.

Look at New Orleans

You don't have to theorize about this.

Look at a New Orleans football field.

Look at John F. Kennedy High School's Cougar Marching Band.

A student who walks into that band room isn't simply being trained to entertain tourists.

They're learning an instrument.

They're learning music.

They're learning drill.

They're learning discipline.

They're learning how to read.

They're learning how to memorize.

They're learning how to perform under pressure.

They're learning how to depend on the person next to them.

And then something else can happen.

That student can perform at games.

They can perform at competitions.

They can perform in community events.

They can encounter college recruiters.

They can become visible to HBCUs.

They can pursue scholarships.

They can travel.

They can meet people from outside their immediate environment.

They can discover that the world is much larger than the neighborhood they grew up in.

That's not a trap.

That's a pipeline.

And music has already taken many of our kids places before they even graduated high school.

Some have traveled across the country.

Some have traveled internationally.

Some have gone to college because of it.

Some have discovered careers because of it.

Some have found community through it.

And some simply discovered that they were capable of more than they thought they were.

That matters.

New Orleans Already Understands This

This city has been proving the point for generations.

Look at the Rebirth Brass Band.

Look at Jon Batiste.

Look at the Marsalis family.

These aren't examples of music being some meaningless hobby that keeps people trapped in the same place.

They're examples of what happens when culture, talent, discipline, education, opportunity, and persistence intersect.

Now, before somebody misunderstands me, I'm not saying every kid who picks up a trumpet is going to become Jon Batiste.

Of course not.

And that's exactly the point.

Not everybody is going to become a superstar.

Not everybody is going to become a billionaire.

Not everybody is going to become an NFL player.

But we don't tell children that football is worthless because only a tiny percentage of them will reach the NFL.

We understand that the experience has value beyond the professional contract.

We should be able to understand that about music too.

I'll Give You a Personal Example

I don't even have to reach for a celebrity.

I can give you somebody I actually know.

My friend Greg Fassitt.

Greg and I went to high school together.

He was in the band with me.

He also played football.

And football took him somewhere.

He went on to play college football at Grambling and eventually reached the NFL. He was with the New Orleans Saints during their Super Bowl season.

Now Greg may not be the most recognizable football player in the world.

And that's okay.

Because he doesn't have to be.

He got the opportunity.

He experienced something extraordinary.

He has a Super Bowl ring.

He has an education.

He has a career.

And he has the experience of having pursued something he loved at a very high level.

That's the part people sometimes miss.

The value of the dream isn't determined solely by how famous you become.

Greg is important to me for another reason.

He was in the band with me.

So here's a kid who could play football and play music.

Football took him as far as football could take him.

But the music didn't have to disappear.

That's the kind of thing I'm talking about.

Why are we so eager to force a child to choose one thing before they've even had the opportunity to discover what they're capable of doing?

Why can't the football player be a musician?

Why can't the musician be an athlete?

Why can't the artist be a scholar?

Why can't the scholar be an entrepreneur?

Why can't the child become several things throughout the course of their life?

Who made us believe human beings have to be one thing?

Not Everybody Is the Honey Badger

Let's be honest.

Not everybody is going to be Tyrann Mathieu.

Not everybody is going to be Leonard Fournette.

Not everybody is going to become an NFL superstar.

And that's okay.

The purpose of youth athletics isn't simply to manufacture professional athletes.

We understand that.

Sports teach discipline.

They teach teamwork.

They teach leadership.

They teach perseverance.

They can create scholarships and opportunities.

They can expose children to places they would otherwise never see.

They can give a child confidence.

They can give them a community.

Music can do the same thing.

So why do we suddenly become suspicious of it because the instrument is a trumpet instead of a football?

Stop Calling Everything You Don't Monetize a Waste

There is another problem underneath this conversation.

We have become obsessed with asking:

"How much money does it make?"

That's a useful question.

It is not the only question.

A child can gain discipline without getting paid.

They can gain confidence without getting paid.

They can develop friendships without getting paid.

They can learn leadership without getting paid.

They can travel without getting paid.

They can discover their talent without getting paid.

They can find purpose without getting paid.

And sometimes those things become the foundation upon which money eventually gets built.

We have a strange habit of respecting people's interests only after those interests become profitable.

Before the photographer gets paid, it's "just taking pictures."

Before the filmmaker gets clients, it's "playing with a camera."

Before the musician gets a contract, it's "just playing around."

Before the entrepreneur builds a company, it's "just a hobby."

But every profession starts somewhere.

Every craft begins with an interest.

Every skill begins with practice.

Every career begins with somebody learning how to do something.

So instead of telling a child:

"Stop doing that and get an education."

Why don't we say:

"Keep doing it. Now let's educate you about what you're doing."

That's a completely different philosophy.

Educate the Interest

If a child loves music, teach them the music.

But also teach them business.

Teach them technology.

Teach them contracts.

Teach them intellectual property.

Teach them financial literacy.

Teach them marketing.

Teach them entrepreneurship.

Teach them how the entertainment industry actually works.

Teach them how to recognize exploitation.

Teach them how to recognize opportunity.

Teach them how to create opportunity.

Teach them how to negotiate.

Teach them how to save.

Teach them how to invest.

Teach them how to build something.

Now you've taken an interest and expanded it into a skill set.

That's education.

And maybe that child eventually becomes a musician.

Maybe they become a band director.

Maybe they become a composer.

Maybe they become a producer.

Maybe they become an engineer.

Maybe they become a teacher.

Maybe they become a videographer.

Maybe they build a media company.

Maybe they become an entrepreneur.

Maybe they leave music completely and become something else.

That's fine too.

The first door doesn't have to be the final destination.

The Tourist Gig Isn't the End of the Road

This is where I disagree with the idea that teaching music necessarily "traps" children in low-paying tourist work.

A job can be a starting point.

A gig can be a starting point.

An internship can be a starting point.

A scholarship can be a starting point.

A local performance can be a starting point.

Nobody knows where the road ends when they're standing at the beginning of it.

And here's something else:

There's nothing inherently shameful about working a tourist gig.

If somebody is making an honest living playing music, paying their bills, supporting their family, paying taxes, and living their life, why are we automatically treating that person's work as failure?

It may not be the destination.

But it doesn't have to be worthless.

And if that musician decides they want something else, they can build toward something else.

That's life.

We all start somewhere.

Education Doesn't Have to Mean Abandonment

This is where I think we need to change the conversation.

We shouldn't tell children:

"Music isn't going to make you rich."

We should tell them:

"Music may not make you rich. Now let's learn how to make good decisions anyway."

We shouldn't tell them:

"You can't do that forever."

We should tell them:

"Learn everything you can while you're doing it. Then decide where you want to take it."

We shouldn't tell them:

"You need a real career."

We should tell them:

"Let's help you understand what a career actually is."

Because sometimes the person telling you to abandon your passion in the name of stability doesn't actually know what stability looks like either.

A traditional job isn't a guarantee.

A degree isn't a guarantee.

A trade isn't a guarantee.

A business isn't a guarantee.

Neither is music.

Life doesn't come with guarantees.

What we can build is capacity.

The ability to learn.

The ability to adapt.

The ability to think.

The ability to work.

The ability to communicate.

The ability to create.

The ability to recover when something fails.

That's what we should be giving children.

Culture Is Not the Enemy of Progress

New Orleans should understand this better than almost anybody.

Music isn't an accessory here.

It is part of the ecosystem.

It connects generations.

It preserves memory.

It creates community.

It creates employment.

It creates identity.

It gives people a reason to gather.

It puts our city on stages around the world.

And our children are part of that ecosystem.

We may not be making the same kind of music that makes a handful of rappers billionaires.

That's okay.

A culture doesn't have to produce billionaires to be alive.

Sometimes the wealth is in the transmission.

A tradition survives.

A child learns.

A student travels.

A musician teaches another musician.

A band director passes down knowledge.

A young person discovers an HBCU.

Somebody gets a scholarship.

Somebody finds a career.

Somebody meets the person who changes their life.

Somebody simply finds a place where they belong.

That's wealth too.

Not all wealth is measured on a balance sheet.

Some of it is cultural.

Some of it is intellectual.

Some of it is relational.

Some of it is the knowledge that survives because somebody cared enough to pass it forward.

We Don't Need to Choose

So no, I don't want our children trapped in low-paying tourist gigs.

I want them educated enough to understand the gig.

I want them educated enough to negotiate the contract.

I want them educated enough to understand the economics.

I want them educated enough to recognize when somebody is taking advantage of them.

I want them educated enough to own the company hiring the musicians.

I want them educated enough to build something better.

And if they eventually decide music isn't where they're going?

Fine.

They'll carry everything they learned with them.

That's the point.

Education should expand a child's options, not eliminate their interests.

We should be teaching our children how to take what they already love and add education, technology, business, financial literacy, and professional development to it.

Because the ultimate goal isn't simply to produce another musician.

It's to produce a capable human being.

A person who can think.

A person who can adapt.

A person who can work.

A person who can create.

A person who can build.

A person who can contribute.

A person who can make a living without having to surrender the things that make them human.

And sometimes the road to that person begins with a kid picking up a trumpet in a New Orleans band room.

Sometimes it begins with a kid stepping onto a football field.

Sometimes it begins with a camera.

Sometimes it begins with a computer.

Sometimes it begins with a paintbrush.

We don't always know what the first spark is going to become.

That's why you don't extinguish it prematurely.

You educate it.

You discipline it.

You challenge it.

You give it structure.

You expose it to the world.

And then you let the person decide where to take it.

Because you can never take away someone's dream and call that education.

You can prepare somebody for reality without convincing them that their imagination has no place in it.

And you can teach financial stability without teaching cultural abandonment.

That's the balance.

Not music versus education.

Not culture versus progress.

Not dream versus reality.

Dream plus discipline.
Culture plus education.
Passion plus strategy.
Opportunity plus preparation.

That's how you build people who can move.

And that's what I want for our children.

Not a smaller dream because somebody is afraid of where it might lead.

A bigger capacity to pursue whatever that dream becomes.

Don't kill the interest. Educate the interest.

Because sometimes the thing you call a hobby is the first language through which a child learns discipline.

Sometimes the thing you call entertainment is the first doorway to opportunity.

Sometimes the thing you call a dead end is simply a road you haven't learned how to read yet.

And sometimes all a child needs is somebody willing to say:

"Keep playing. I'll help you learn what comes next."