Follow The Music
excerpt from the book "Living Your Adventure"

One afternoon many years ago I was walking through the corridor at my high school, when I was struck by the sound of music so beautiful that it stopped me in my tracks. I traced the sound to the auditorium. As I opened the doors and peered through the darkness, I saw a group of students assembled under the spotlights. They were no older than me. Yet they were singing intricate vocal harmonies that were more beautiful that any professional musicians I had ever heard.

I listened, spellbound, to the small ensemble, unable to tear myself away from the magic of that sound. There would be consequences for being late to my next class, but my heart was transported to another reality where details like that didn't matter.

It took some discipline to bring myself back to ordinary reality. As I backed out of that magical environment to hurry on to class, the hallway seemed drab and lifeless compared to the magic of what I had seen and heard.

I couldn't shake those exquisite harmonies out of my ear. The next morning my curiosity got the best of me. I went to the music department to investigate. As I entered the hallway, I opened the first door on the right. There I saw an effusive man with pitch-black hair and twinkling eyes. "I'm Mr. Crupi," he introduced himself. "Are you interested in music?"

"I sing gospel music in the choir at my church." I told him solemnly. His friendly face invited me to go on. "Yesterday I heard music in the auditorium. I've never heard anything like it."

"That is chamber music," he informed me. "Those students are a select madrigal group from the concert choir. We have six different choirs in this school, and two chamber groups. Would you be interested in auditioning for one?"

His question caught me by surprise. I was in my junior year. How could I have attended that school for two years and not been aware that we even had a choir? Mr. Crupi asked me to sing America the Beautiful. His enthusiasm was contagious. This big voice boomed out of me. I had never heard it before. When I finished the first verse, he stopped and turned toward me with a friendly smile. "How would you like to join the concert choir?" he asked. I was thrilled.

The next morning I walked self-consciously through the crowded risers and found my place among the baritones. The concert choir had sixty students, mostly from the better side of town. This wasn't my turf. I was from a poor neighborhood, so no one really wanted to talk to me. But when Mr. Crupi stepped into the room, everything changed.

The instant he appeared, everyone fell into rapt attention. He stepped up to the podium and raised his baton. Suddenly we were a team. We started with simple voice exercises. No one even considered having an attitude or forming an opinion.

We were just normal kids until Mr. Crupi entered that room. He strode in to the space like it was the most important place on earth, fully expecting perfection from the first moment. His respect was palpable. Within moments I was under his spell.

After taking us through some classical pieces, Mr. Crupi informed us that he was conducting auditions for the chamber group during the lunch hour. The coincidence seemed too strange to ignore. "You must be able to sight read the music and deliver a clear, bright sound," he told us. My heart jumped with hope, even though I knew I could never meet those conditions. The thought of singing those madrigal sounds was beyond my wildest dreams. Shyness overwhelmed me, but desperation pushed me forward.

I showed up. What could it hurt? No one at school respected me anyway. I figured that I might as well go for it. The piece we sang for tryouts was an old spiritual tune called Climbing Up the Mountain. I hung back as different combinations of people tried out. By the time it was my turn, I had memorized my part from listening to the others. I couldn't actually read the notes, but my ear was good. When Mr. Crupi made his selections, he invited me to join the chamber group. I was overjoyed.

Mr. Crupi spoke to us at length after the audition. He talked about growing a garden and tending carefully to the flowers to create a place of beauty. Then he told how a gardener could walk through a forest and be surprised by a wild flower that had grown as lovely as any in his garden. "We have a new member of the team." Mr. Crupi continued. "I didn't develop him as I did the rest of you, but he belongs right here with us."

He was talking about me. The others had already sung together for two years. They were mostly friends whose parents belonged to the local country club. But Mr. Crupi made it clear that when we sang, I was fully part of the team.

In my entire life, no one had ever acknowledged me like that. If I sang at home my stepfather turned on the radio and told me to shut up. This was a whole new view of myself. I was ecstatic. I felt embarrassed and proud at the same time. Underneath all that, I was touched. Mr. Crupi was more than a teacher. He was a coach.

The American Standard dictionary defines a coach as "a person who trains and directs athletes or athletic teams", or "a person who gives instruction, as in singing." Mr. Crupi fit both of those descriptions.

I sang with that group for two years and went on to sing gospel professionally in college. During those years I participated in wrestling, track and cross-country and I worked with a lot of good coaches and mentors. But the finest coaching I received as a youth was from my music teacher.

A good coach does more than train and rehearse. A real coach is a believer. We all loved Mr. Crupi because he believed we could do anything. Mr. Crupi showed us a deeper aspect of ourselves. He bridged our differences and molded us into a something bigger than any of the individuals.

Mr. Crupi didn't know me when I walked into his classroom, but he believed in me. That belief made me want to earn his respect. I wanted to be like him. As my confidence grew under his inspiration, I vowed to become the kind of man who could bring out the best in people. By nurturing that desire, I eventually found my calling as a professional business coach.

Most people die with their music still in them. We all have gifts and talents that lie dormant until someone brings them to life. Just like me, you have something to say or something to do that brings you fully alive. The fact that you are reading this tells me that you also want to use your gift to help other people realize their own talents.

Some people develop a knack for communicating in a way that inspires other people. It isn't a just a gift. Inspiring people is also a skill. Mr. Crupi learned it. I started learning it from him, and then carried on my learning over a lifetime with other great men and women who you will meet in these pages.

I created this particular model of coaching to give you some tools to bring out the best in people. There are plenty of other good models out there, and each one complements the others. I recommend that you draw from a wide field of tools so that you can keep your craft flexible and resilient. Eventually you will want to form your own model of coaching based on your own natural characteristics and inclinations.

Your age doesn't matter. Neither does your gender, or even your level of experience. If you love people and enjoy helping them reach their goals, you can coach.

--Martin Sage