LOL, sure… call up Phi Beta Mu—the most exclusive club in band directing where careers are built on the backs of rich programs, wealthy booster clubs, and private lesson budgets that rival small school district salaries. Because nothing says “helping struggling programs” like a membership full of directors whose biggest challenge was whether the color guard’s Swarovski crystals matched the custom drill team boots.

Yeah, let’s pretend Phi Beta Mu is the go-to resource for directors in underfunded programs. That’s like asking the yacht club how to make rent on a one-bedroom apartment. We’re not supposed to call it out for what it is, right? Just smile, nod, and pretend it’s an equitable, merit-based system while overlooking the reality that access to resources—not just talent or effort—has been the golden ticket for most of its members.

But hey, if we really want to test the waters, let’s dig into their budget. What are they actually spending money on? Who is tracking whether it helps kids in struggling programs, or is it just a well-crafted PR stunt to appear supportive while reinforcing the same barriers that have existed for decades?

Actually, here’s a fun challenge: let’s pull a roster of every Phi Beta Mu inductee in the last 20 years and check the economic background of their program when they joined. How many were teaching in deeply underfunded schools? How many built something from nothing without private lessons, without money for custom instruments, without affluent parents running the booster club like a corporate board? Go ahead, take a guess.

Spoiler alert: It’s not a high number. But sure, let’s keep pretending this is the organization that understands the struggles of directors who are out here doing the real work with no resources, no staff, and no built-in pipeline of private instructors grooming kids for success before they ever set foot in a band hall.

No, I won’t be recommending a group that thrives on affluence while claiming to represent “all” music educators. Try again.