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Reflections on Life. (Hint: It’s Short.)

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Above Audio Recorded Using:

  • Microphone – Sony C-80
  • Interface – cEntrance PASport VO
  • Hardware – MacBook Air M3 13″
  • Software – TwistedWave
  • Additional Software Treatment — AU HiPass, LoudMax, iZotope RX11 Mouth De-Click, AU GraphicEQ

Recorded in my Home Studio

The past few days have been really busy, including two performances of the UTA Maverick Marching Band’s 40th season without football. (Read all about that HERE and HERE.) Hearing UTA’s new Fight Song after each of those shows reminded me about Dr. Douglas Stotter, the Director of Bands who orchestrated the song for the MMB, and who would have turned 65 years old today had he not passed away suddenly last April. So in his honor, I’ve decided that for this week’s blog post, I will share a piece I wrote for a memory book compiled for his memorial concert last spring.

“I will admit that, when I heard Dr. Douglas Stotter was named Director of Bands at the University of Texas at Arlington back in 2005, I probably wanted to dislike him.

Mind you, I didn’t know him. What I did know was that Phil Clements was the Assistant Director of Bands at UTA from 1994-2004 and had served as Interim Director of Bands in the year following the retirement of Ray C. Lichtenwalter. I had become friends with Phil, both as the Voice of the UTA Marching Band and as President of the UTA Band Alumni Association at the time. And it seemed to me that Phil deserved to be named Director of Bands and have “Interim” taken off his title. When that didn’t happen, I was disappointed, and I may have wanted UTA’s new Director of Bands to be problematic. You know, full of faults and ego, and generally unlikeable. This person should only stick around about 3 years because UTA was merely a stepping stone to his next career objective. That way, whatever disappointment I felt could be justified, and I could wallow in bitterness and self-satisfaction and say “I told you so” about what was happening.

So here comes this guy, Doug Stotter, to my alma mater by way of Indiana University. Someone coming from a high-tone program in the Midwest just might be that person. But Doug Stotter was the complete opposite of any and all of those horrible things, and he completely doused my disappointment and quelled any bitterness.

Affable. Amiable. Approachable. Self-deprecating. Humorous. Loved music. And I mean, LOVED music. Most of all, loved teaching music, and was great at it. Down-to-earth. Disarmingly nice. Surprisingly understated and composed.

Clearly, UTA was no stepping stone for Dr. Stotter. It was a career destination, sharing his knowledge of and love for music year after year, with quiet wisdom and humility. The music world often embraces loud, boisterous directors with showy conducting styles. I was never in a Doug Stotter ensemble, but I always got the sense from seeing him in front of his students that he didn’t need to yell at anyone, wear conspicuous clothing, or make grand gestures to get his point across. But don’t mistake lack of show for lack of preparation. Dr. Stotter’s ensembles were always prepared, and he conveyed messages clearly through eye contact with the performers, which is probably why he didn’t need grand gestures. His face was telling the performers, “we’ve worked on this, now play it.” He had a reserved acumen, a restrained energy that still projected passion for the music being performed. Love for music doesn’t always need to be shouted, and Doug showed that. The performance of his ensembles speaks to the effectiveness of Dr. Stotter’s teaching, and by that metric, it was remarkable. I didn’t attend every concert, but every time I did, I wondered, “Were we ever that good?” Because Dr. Stotter’s ensembles were SO good. And what turned out to be his final concert was truly sublime, an experience I will never forget.

But countless students can speak better than I can about Dr. Stotter’s love for and approach to music, and the lessons he imparted to his students. What I really value now are the interesting conversations we would always have. Sure, Doug loved music, but he had interests far beyond the world of band. I would typically encounter him the most during the marching season, usually in the pressbox before a UTA show. I was always impressed that Doug remembered my wife and sons and asked how and what they were doing lately. He also had knowledge of and interest in my own career, even though it had moved far away from the music world. It’s a little ironic that we would see each other at marching band shows and talk about almost anything but marching band. Seriously, how many band directors would you expect to carry on a conversation about economics or educational assessment? One of my favorite MMB memories was the overnight trip to the Broken Arrow Festival near Tulsa, OK in 2016. The staff and I rode separately in a rented SUV that Doug drove throughout the trip. We had a stopover outside the Tulsa area for a rehearsal, and Doug and I ended up taking the vehicle to pass some time driving around the area. We talked about a variety of things – sharing college band stories, discussing Kappa Kappa Psi, etc. He asked me about teaching a “traditional” high school class since he wanted my perspective on how it compared to a band class. It was probably only an hour or so, but it was truly engaging conversation. I only wish there was time for more, and I will miss my encounters with Doug immensely.

Thanks for subverting my expectations, Doug. I will always take comfort knowing that you got to conduct an epic concert right before you were called home. RIP”

I find it fitting that UTA hasn’t immediately replaced Dr. Stotter with an Interim Director of Bands and has, instead, enlisted a slate of guest conductors to work with their Wind Symphony throughout 2025-26 for The Dr. Douglas Stotter Artist-In-Residence series. An excellent course of action given the sudden nature of the situation last April.

Here’s a fundamental thing I learned from Dr. Stotter, and certainly in the course of my education career, as well: People Have Value, So Value Them. That doesn’t mean you have to be a super-gregarious extrovert shouting “let’s make a difference.” Just be kind. At his core, Doug Stotter was simply a kind person who wanted to help his students, and who was nice to others. He quietly showed people that he valued them. He happened to do so professionally as a band director, but anyone can achieve the same objective, no matter what their profession is.

Doug’s sudden passing also underscores another important lesson: Hug your loved ones, and let them know that you care. Show appreciation to mentors, colleagues, anyone who has had a positive impact on your life. Life Is Short, and you may not know when it’s the last time you get to speak with someone.

And just for good measure, one additional lesson: Because Life is Short, spend yours doing something you enjoy. I was deeply disturbed and shocked by Doug Stotter’s sudden passing, but I took solace in the fact that he got to do exactly what he loved at perhaps the highest level right before he left this life. And that realization was at least part of the impetus for me to retire from public education. There was no way on this earth that I wanted even a remote possibility that I could pass away in the midst of…testing. No. Way. There were other factors in my decision, but if you’ve read some of my earlier posts, you know how I grew to feel about the testing realm, and it was time to say goodbye. Know when it’s time to say goodbye in your own profession (or personal life), because we won’t always know when it’ll be our time to go.

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Some Funny Things Happened on the Road to Retirement

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Above Audio Recorded Using:

  • Microphone – Rode Video MicroGo II (USB-C)
  • Hardware – iPad Pro 11″ M4
  • Software – TwistedWave for iOS
  • Additional Software Treatment via MacBook Air M3 13″ – AU HiPass, LoudMax, iZotope RX11 Mouth De-Click

Recorded in my Home Studio

It truly is about time I retired from public education. I’ve actually been planning this for several years now. I came across an old unpublished blog post from January 2021 in which I triumphantly stated that 2021 was “what I intend to be my last year as an educator.” 2021.

The 2020-21 school year was my 27th year in education, when I hit the “magic number” for retirement in Texas: Age + Years of Service = 80. On August 7, 2021, I turned 53 years old, so from that day onward, I was officially eligible to exit my career. But 20-21 was also only Year 1 in my final district, and you might recall that it was also the school year right after the COVID pandemic. What a strange year – our district began the year with 100% distance learning, then later allowed students who wished to pursue in-person instruction, but only with social distancing. Testing procedures were really odd – students could either choose to test or defer until later – but I learned a lot in that unique environment. By August 7 of 2021, I don’t think I was actually ready to retire, after all, so I committed to Year 2 at that campus and in that district. I did truly enjoy the campus where I worked immensely, learn many new skills, had made new friends, and was able to find fulfillment in my work as the Campus Testing Coordinator. So I pressed on…2021-22, 2022-23, then 2023-24.

Each of those next 3 school years grew progressively more difficult, though. The district kept adding tests and testing responsibilities while simultaneously gaslighting everyone with a message of “we’re actually doing less than in years past.” Right. I suppose, as George Costanza said, “it’s not a lie if you believe it.” The State of Texas was also adding new things at least every odd-numbered year. And I was burning out while yearning for more time to do voiceover work, worrying that I might miss a critical chance, if only from the opportunity cost of time spent with education and not VO. So in June 2024, I actually filed the paperwork. Sent a paper copy off via USPS Certified Mail – I still have the receipt. I informed my principal, who was herself moving onto a revised life and career in New Mexico. Also informed the staff. The timing actually seemed perfect – 30 years, weary, new principal, new superintendent – let’s make a break for it.

Into my office walks a former principal of mine from a previous campus, now a district administrator. “I want you to reconsider,” she says. We talk about the bureaucratic issues within the district, as well as my salary, and she pledges to work on a pay raise for me. I figure if she can make something happen with my pay that is worthwhile, I might dig deep and muster up another 3-5 years of effort. So I cancelled my retirement in anticipation of her delivering. She didn’t. Or, to put it more accurately, she couldn’t. With a new superintendent, she found herself professionally pidgeon-holed (districts like to call it “reassigned”) and therefore had very little leverage to influence my pay, at least to the level I hoped. I received a raise beyond the typical x% given to all employees, but it was nowhere near what I had requested or felt like I deserved, given the scope and quality of work I was doing for the campus. “But you’ll like working with [new principal],” I was told in an effort toward consolation.

And I did. Great guy, hard worker, dedicated. Trouble is, he found himself just trying to stay afloat amidst even more district bureaucratic nonsense. Everyone at our campus did. It became comical, and we joked about it openly. I joked freely about these things in e-mails to campus staff. And of course, that got me in a little hot water. “You sound like you’re pitting the campus against the district,” I was told by a central office administrator. No, the district is destroying our morale, and I’m trying to show empathy with our teachers through humor. (But that’s another story for a later post.)

So after year 31, in the spring of 2025, I filed the paperwork again, this time electronically. Then a central admin position came open in another nearby district – “Director of Assessment & Accountability.” Way back in 2018, this was where I was headed in my first district before the rug was yanked out from under me (Another story for still another post.) I apply. I contact this district’s superintendent, also a former principal of mine. (No, I am NOT above leveraging old professional relationships, and neither should you be.) I get an interview. Probably the best performance I ever had in an interview. The committee lead calls and tells me it was a great interview, the committee was very impressed, and he needs to contact my references next.

Now you might be thinking, “What about voiceover? What about THE DREAM?!? Weren’t you ready to commit full-time?” Yes, but this central office job would’ve been a substantial pay increase and set me up for an even more lucrative retirement situation in just a few years. I owe it to myself to try, at least. And if this job is meant to be, I can cancel my retirement again and stick it out a little longer. And a week after the interview, it’s looking like that shall be the plan. They seem to want to hire me. Then another week goes by. And another. And finally, I get the e-mail saying “we have decided to move forward with another candidate for this role.” I figure it’s probably the guy with an Ed.D.; districts love doctorates among central administrators. (Yet another future post.)

“Oh, no! I’m so sorry.” Please don’t feel sorry for me – no condolences, no regrets. I applied, I put in appropriate effort and performed well, but that other district went a different direction. I like to think they’ll regret not hiring me, but it doesn’t matter. In the end, I know from experience that central office work is just a little soul-crushing (wow, that’s FOUR future posts), so that potential additional pay would’ve likely come with…suffering. And now, I simply have to hustle as a freelance VO talent, keep building my skills, market and find clients, and do the work. If I do it right, I may be able to cover the potential difference in salary from that job, and then some. And because I enjoy VO, there won’t be any soul-crushing or suffering. It truly is about time I retired from public education.