Your Backstage Pass with Director of Chorus Administration Krystiana Machtinger
The lights in the house dimmed. As I stood backstage, listening to the welcoming remarks at last month’s Spring Concert, the realization dawned on me that this was my tenth New Jersey Youth Chorus Spring Concert. My tenth season of keeping sound checks (almost) on schedule, wishing tiny humans good luck as they ventured on stage, saying goodbye to our seniors, and being proud of the magical moments created for and by our choristers.
As I waited backstage with our youngest singers, I hugged my daughter, an NJYC chorister in her second season, wished her luck, and told her that hopefully, she would one day sing “Blessing” as a Senior at her final NJYC Spring Concert. I wonder what those years will look like, the adventures and moments that will fill them, and all I can think is… oh, the places you’ll go…
Like the Magic School Bus, the New Jersey Youth Chorus has transported us on so many magical adventures to wonderful places. (I guess in this analogy, that would make Mrs. Joyce…Ms. Frizzle?) We have stood on the stages at NJPAC and Carnegie Hall, passed famous athletes in the underground tunnels of Citifield and MetLife Stadium, and fangirled over famous composers (choir-lebrities, as the kids say). Our choristers have sung to audiences of thousands, have had their faces broadcast on Jumbotrons and televisions, and performed in front of crowds of seasoned music educators. We’ve sung just for ourselves, in caves in Canada, on mountaintops in Wales, and in the sacred tomb of St. Cecilia in the Catacombs of Rome. They’ve rejoiced on the stage at the happiest place on earth in Disney World, paid homage to fallen US soldiers in their final resting place outside of Florence, Italy, and serenaded holiday visitors with the spirit of the season under the portrait of George Washington in the East Room of the White House.
A lot has happened in my ten seasons with the New Jersey Youth Chorus, and it hasn’t always been easy. Coordinating a family vacation is one thing, but planning a trip with 45 teenagers to another country? Now that is next level. Things didn’t always go as expected. Sometimes, it requires us to make a simple adjustment, a pivot in our carefully crafted plans. Other times, it means throwing the plan out the window; for example, mopping up a malfunctioning toilet as the bus was speeding down I-95 on our way to ACDA in Boston because traffic had delayed us too much to stop. Once we almost had to call the fire department to rescue our driver, who was stuck inside the bus in Canada, until some good Samaritans pried the doors open with their bare hands. Another time, we had to make a last-minute decision to rush through the National Mall on foot in DC during the Kite Festival to board our river cruise, knowing the bus would never make it through Cherry Blossom Festival traffic in time (are we getting the sense that maybe buses are my kryptonite here?).
Through the years, I have found myself wearing many hats at NJYC. I was chief organizer, jack of many trades, and keeper of all things logistics. I wore hats for marketing, development, project management, tour planning, finance, IT, and one time, even an international hand drum hat. During the pandemic, I added chief sound and video engineer hats, as well as resident infectious disease specialist (more a mask than a hat, but you get my point). However, of all the hats I’ve worn, none have meant more to me or been more important than the hat I wear for our choristers. My Ms. Krystiana hat. My lost water bottle hat. My “Do you have a band-aid” hat. My Mom-away-from-Mom hat. The hat I wore when my student, denied boarding when we were due to return home from Italy, looked up at me with worried eyes, and I assured him that he would not be alone. As we watched the rest of our group disappear around the corner to security and we turned back to begin our odyssey through the American consulate system, alone in a foreign land, I knew it would be the most important hat I would ever wear at NJYC. Seeing the relief on his and his mother’s faces when we stepped onto the curb at Newark airport two and a half days later just drove home what I know in my heart is the core mission of NJYC. Everything we do, we do for them.