Twelve years, every choir from Town Choir to MasterSingers, and a lifelong love of music.

For Caryn King, Charlotte Choir School was never just an after-school activity. She joined at age 7 in the 2013–2014 season, sang her way through the entire program, and graduated with the Class of 2025. Today she is a sophomore at the University of Miami's Frost School of Music, majoring in Choral Music Education with a concentration in elementary music.

"Charlotte Choir School taught me who I was," Caryn says. We asked her to look back on more than half a lifetime spent in our choir rooms, on our stages, and on tour.

Born into the Choir School family

Caryn's connection to CCS began before she could sing a note. Her family attended St. Peter's, home to the program, and her parents were friends of founders Ben Outen and Kay Johnson. They came to fundraisers, events, and most concerts, and her father served on the board when she was young.

"I grew up very familiar with the program's staff," she remembers, "though I was never really aware of how important to me it would become."

Her audition almost didn't happen. At Discovery Night, a very shy 6-year-old Caryn refused to leave the room where the presentation was held. Then her friend Rosie Cudabac, a fellow alum raised alongside her in the St. Peter's community, headed off eagerly to audition. Caryn followed to watch.

"After seeing it was nothing to be scared of, I stepped up and auditioned as well," she says. "Without Rosie I likely would not have been in the choir as early as I was." She started that fall.

Moments that stayed

Asked for her most vivid memory, Caryn notes that it's hard to choose: "I was a chorister for more than half of my life." One that rises to the top is singing William Harris's Bring Us, O Lord God in Wells, England.

The piece was hard, and the choir loved the work of learning it. Performing it there, at the culmination of their training and in one of the most beautiful acoustic spaces they had ever sung in, became a core memory. "There is no better word to describe the feeling than magical," she says. "It made me fall in love with music all over again."

But her favorite moment isn't a piece at all. It's the quiet just before every concert, a tradition she says she took for granted until her very last performance. In her own words:

"Standing shoulder to shoulder, hands and elbows brushing as we sway on our feet, waiting with hushed anticipation. Whispers are exchanged, even though we know it is wrong and unprofessional. You start in the bright comfort of the choir room, where you have rehearsed for months perfecting the pieces you are about to share. The Tour Choirs are looped around the room like an intricate knot, no one daring to move out of place, lest they get lost. At the threshold of a door that is only used during these moments, the line of MasterSingers starts. They wind up the darkened stairwell, well worn from the hundreds of steps taken over them. You wait in the silent shadows, ears strained to hear the preconcert announcements, and yet you are unable to hear more than a quiet muffle. Then, in a sudden flurry of fabric, silence somehow louder than whispers, you make your way through the darkened hallway to be blinded by the stage lighting. Then you are there, in front of the audience, and your performance has begun."

At her final concert, she stood in the crook of that same stairwell, leaning on the railing between two friends.

"My eyes catch on the skyline visible through the small window. I stare at the stars, suddenly realizing that this is the last time I will ever stand here. Surrounded by friends and cloaked in shadow. I suddenly hope that this hushed anticipation will last forever, and for the first time I am reluctant to step out on stage."

An honest kind of family

What Caryn loves most about CCS is its honesty. "It isn't pretending to be something that it is not," she says. "It is rigorous, at times frustrating, but so is any family during Thanksgiving dinner." Every time she visits, she is reminded of the mutual respect and love the program is built on.

Learning the language early

Caryn calls herself a rare case among alumni: she now studies music full-time, yet some of her most potent musical education still comes from CCS. The skill she uses most is solfège.

"It may be a boring and inherently educational answer, but it's true," she says. Solfège has helped launch her work in both vocal performance and teaching. Singing simple, familiar songs on solfège lets her connect with students instantly. "It helps to know the language of a country before you move there, and CCS gave me the language many years in advance."

At Frost, she has discovered that she thinks almost entirely through music, whether she is memorizing something or reasoning through a problem. "Charlotte Choir School has been so ingrained in my childhood development that I literally run on music," she says. "CCS carried me through the hardest parts of my life."

Still part of the family

Caryn stays close with alumni, especially her graduating class, and with choristers both older and younger. She volunteers with CCS whenever she can, including helping with Choir Camp each summer, and keeps in touch with Director Elizabeth Lenti about family news and questions about the profession.

For her, being an alum means sharing her love of music with the world. "Being an alum means being a part of a family of people who will always understand your experiences, no matter how far you drift."

A note to today's choristers

Her advice for current singers is simple: notice the little things. The friends, the music, and the tours, yes, but also the fun, a game of Pass the Beat, or a small conversation on the bus.

"I love CCS. I am proud to be a member of its community. I hope that everyone else, even if they are not a part of the program itself, can understand its importance, rigor, and love."

Thank you, Caryn. We're proud of you, and we can't wait to see the young musicians you'll inspire next.