There Is No One Way to Be a Music Therapy Student

by  Ari Beasley
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We know music school is hard. Studying music therapy can be even harder. But no one prepared me for how difficult it would be to already have a degree in music and then begin another degree that, in many ways, felt completely different—all while navigating major changes in my home life.

I may not be much older than the average music therapy student, but I started my master’s equivalency program with a young family: my partner, our daughter, and our dog. We had just made a cross-country move filled with almost every worst-case scenario imaginable. When we arrived in Georgia, we thought the hardest part of the transition was behind us.
We were wrong.

Our daughter was only two months old when I started my master’s equivalency program. I will forever be grateful for the support I received from my faculty during that first semester. I was even able to bring my daughter to class because she was a fairly quiet baby.

Still, I had my own anxieties to navigate. I constantly worried about how my classmates felt about having a young baby in the classroom. Would she babble during a lesson? Would she cry during an exam? Would her presence be distracting?

I remember one particular exam when my professor offered to hold my daughter while I took the test. I was so worried that my daughter would become fussy and interrupt the other students that I struggled to focus. Between trying to care for my baby and trying to comprehend the questions in front of me, I somehow missed an entire page of the exam and barely passed.
At the time, moments like that felt like evidence that I was failing.

There were late nights spent studying, assignments that were barely submitted on time, and the embarrassment of having to ask for an extension or explain why I was struggling. I was navigating new parenthood, a strained relationship, a toddler who was not quite meeting developmental milestones, financial stress, and the challenge of learning guitar while trying to keep up with an entirely new area of study.

Finding childcare was another challenge. We were a young family living on very little income, and there were times when childcare simply was not financially realistic.

But this is also where I learned one of the most important lessons of my education: I did not have to do it alone.

I will forever be thankful for the classmates who showed up for me during that time. One refused to let me pay her for childcare. Another worked out a payment plan with me. Some welcomed my daughter into their dorm rooms. Another came to my home, cleaned my kitchen, and watched my daughter while I was at practicum.

I don't think I could ever fully repay those people for the ways they showed up for me.

At the time, I sometimes felt like I was asking too much. Looking back, I realize that accepting support did not make me less capable of being a graduate student. It allowed me to keep going.

Now, as a full-time working mom who is still navigating school, some things are easier and some things are harder. My circumstances have changed, but I still find myself thinking about what it means to be a student when school is only one part of your life.

Being a nontraditional student can sometimes feel like you are constantly trying to catch up to a version of the "typical" student experience. You may have a family, a job, financial responsibilities, or other commitments that your classmates do not have. You may need to approach school differently. You may need to ask for help more often than you expected.

That does not mean you are less dedicated.

It does not mean you are less capable.

And it certainly does not mean that you do not belong.

If I could go back and give my first-semester self some advice, I would tell her to stop measuring her progress against everyone else's. I would tell her that needing an extension does not erase the work she has already done. I would tell her that asking for help is not a weakness. Most importantly, I would tell her to recognize the people who are willing to walk alongside her and allow them to do so.

Music therapy education can be challenging for any student, but our paths into the profession do not all look the same. Some of us begin this journey straight from our undergraduate programs. Others come back to school years later. Some of us are parents, caregivers, partners, full-time employees, or all of the above.

There is no single way to be a music therapy student.

To the other nontraditional students trying to figure out school while also figuring out life: you are not behind. Your journey may look different, and sometimes it may feel harder than you imagined, but different does not mean wrong.

There may be semesters when simply making it to the finish line is the accomplishment. There may be times when you need to lean on your classmates, faculty, family, or community. Let yourself do that.

One day, you may look back and realize that the things you thought were making you a less-than-perfect student were actually teaching you some of the most important lessons about empathy, flexibility, advocacy, and resilience—qualities that will follow you into your work as a music therapist.

Keep your head up. The journey is not over yet.