Last week, our family traded snow boots for sandals and set sail on a Caribbean cruise for March Break. It was a week filled with sunshine, blue skies, turquoise waters, and unexpected reminders of why we do what we do as artists, educators, and parents.
One evening, the ship hosted a “bandeoke” night—karaoke, but with a live band. The energy was vibrant, the room was full, and the sign-up list was limited to just nine performers.
My 9-year-old daughter, V, heard about it… and immediately decided she was going to sing.
Now, V takes private voice lessons. She sings in RISE. She loves to sing. But even still—my teacher brain and my mom brain went into overdrive.
We haven’t practiced.
We don’t know the song list.
Will there be lyrics?
This isn’t a structured, educational environment.
You’ll be singing in front of hundreds of strangers…
I had my reservations.
But I kept them to myself and simply asked, “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Her answer was an unwavering: “Yes.”
Then I asked, “Why?”
And her response stopped me in my tracks:
“Because if I don’t do it, I will regret it.”
Powerful words—from a 9-year-old.
If I’m being completely honest, I wouldn’t have done it. Not without preparation. Not without knowing exactly what to expect. Not without rehearsing every detail.
But V?
She insisted we arrive early to make sure her name made it onto that list of nine singers. She scanned the song options, confidently chose “Dancing Queen,” and waited patiently for her turn.
And then—she did it.
She stepped onto that stage, in front of a room full of hundreds of strangers, and sang.
Was she nervous? Of course.
But she was also ready.
The band was incredible. The lead singer supported her with entrances and lyrics. The audience was warm, generous, and encouraging.
And V? She shone.
Not because everything was perfect.
Not because she had rehearsed for weeks.
But because she was willing.
Willing to try.
Willing to be seen.
Willing to step into something unknown.
That’s what confidence looks like.
Confidence isn’t the absence of nerves.
It isn’t perfection.
It isn’t waiting until everything feels “ready.”
Confidence is choosing to show up anyway.
It’s saying yes to the opportunity.
It’s trusting yourself enough to take the leap.
It’s knowing that even if it’s uncomfortable—you’ll be okay.
Moments like this are exactly why our Coffee Houses and Studio Concerts matter so deeply.
They are not just performances.
They are practice for moments of courage.
They are safe, supportive spaces where our artists learn how to stand tall, take risks, and trust themselves. They are where confidence is quietly, consistently built—one experience, one performance at a time.
And then, one day, that confidence shows up in the most unexpected places… like a cruise ship stage, in front of hundreds of strangers.
This 9-year-old surprised me.
But more than that—she reminded me.
She reminded me that the artist within is not something we “teach” in a single lesson. It is something we nurture. Something we grow. Something that, when given the space and encouragement to develop, becomes a powerful force in our lives.
It teaches us about who we are.
It reveals our strength.
It invites us to be brave.
And sometimes…
It leads us to say yes to “bandeoke.”
Keep singing,
xo Andrea “mama to the dancing queen” Donais