Please welcome today’s guest writer, Jacklyn Mae VanderZee. Jacklyn (‘18) lives in Lafayette, IN after graduating from Calvin College with her B.A. in Speech Pathology & Audiology and Saint Xavier University with her M.S. in Speech-Language Pathology. When she’s not hanging out with her favorite preschoolers as a speech-language pathologist, she can be found working farmers markets in downtown Chicago or striving toward creating the perfect playlist.
I’ve always been the “trumpet girl.” I joined every band possible in high school; I balanced both wind ensemble and orchestra at Calvin. My Instagram handle was “trumpeter28” for a good portion of my social media presence in high school, and my bio still reads that “I’m that one girl who plays trumpet & stuff.”
High school gave me the classic movie stereotype of “band nerd”: glasses (on occasion), acne, listening to classical music, carrying my trumpet case around school more often than seems necessary (you think I’m kidding—I’m not). I’ve never been the popular type, and my little trumpet-loving soul poured herself wholeheartedly into every instrumental opportunity despite the probable jokes made at my expense. Pit orchestra, chapel, wind ensemble, band festivals, jazz band, chamber music: all of these fueled my love for band. I was set on majoring in trumpet performance in college until I came to the realization that I lacked the amount of drive and talent needed to turn my passion for band into a financially stable career.
At Calvin, I found my home in the CFAC. I spent most of my free time between classes doing homework (read: getting distracted with friends) in the small alcove by the practice room hallway, nicknamed “Jacklyn’s office” by most of the music department faculty. I found dear friends during band and orchestra dinners; I found camaraderie in my fellow musicians while spending my weekends at student recitals. At least eleven hours each week were spent in rehearsals or private lessons, and I found joy in being able to do “whatever I wanted” in college—which included practicing trumpet at midnight if I so desired. I was thriving.
When I moved home for grad school to get my masters in speech-language pathology, I found myself aching for the days of back-to-back rehearsals and learning new repertoire. I found a brass choir to play with at my tiny Catholic university, and yet the longing to be in band and orchestra remained. My cohort looked at me funny when I’d walk into class with my trumpet backpack case in tow and I remembered what it felt like to again be the nerdy, weird girl.
I moved to Lafayette, Indiana, in the middle of 2020. Despite the busyness of starting a new job, I found myself missing band again. COVID-19 wreaked havoc on nearly every area of my life, but shared instrumental experiences were hit the hardest. I scraped through #100daysofpractice in early 2021, but found the practice of playing drills and etudes with a mute in my apartment to be unenjoyable without the concrete deadline of a concert.
Summer 2021 brought new possibilities with the lifting of COVID restrictions in many areas, but my busy summer work schedule of traipsing back and forth from my parents’ house in northwest Indiana to my apartment in Central Indiana left little time for what few band opportunities were available. Instead, I found myself participating in leading worship through singing at my small church in West Lafayette: a shock to many people, but mostly myself as my singing credentials were limited to my car. (Previous choir experiences date back to church choir in elementary school and school choir in middle school). My piano skills, functional and bare, were also called into action on limited occasions, giving me a newfound respect for all the church accompanists in my life. A friend asked for extra altos in her church choir, and now I sing with nine others each Wednesday night in rehearsal and Sunday morning in worship.
This feels like my new normal: using the two instruments that I, for all intents and purposes, abandoned once I got a taste of “real” band in high school. Feeling the ache of longing for rehearsals on large symphonic works with other instrumentalists that flares up when Brahms’s second symphony shows up again in my Spotify playlists. Learning the limitations of my vocal range and registers. Practicing piano parts weeks in advance to weakly accompany my small congregation when no one else is available.
It’s hard looking back at high school sophomore Jacklyn, who hoped to have a seat in a major orchestra someday. It’s hard looking back at college junior Jacklyn, who took her college band and orchestra experiences for granted. It’s hard looking back at last-semester-of-grad-school Jacklyn, who found her passion for band and performing well again a mere two weeks before COVID-19 shut down the world.
So I’m trying to be someone future Jacklyn will be proud of. I’m striving to be a musician who uses whatever instrument she’s given—voice, piano, trumpet—to “glorify God and enjoy him forever”—through music, through work, through relationships. I know I’m called to be a musician—but maybe, just maybe, I’m called to be a musician in all areas of my life.
