Guest Contributor:
Don Stinson, Director of Bands, Joliet Central High School, Joliet, IL
The night before my first out-of-state trip as a band director, I was up at 10pm, stuffing medication envelopes and rechecking the itinerary for the fifth time. My suitcase was half-packed. My phone kept buzzing with parent questions — “What time is bus loading?” “Can I send extra snacks?” — and I hadn’t even started my sub plans.
By the time my head hit the pillow, I was convinced I’d forget something important, the whole trip would go off the rails, and it’d all be my fault.
If this already feels uncomfortably familiar, you’re not alone. If you’re leading your first group trip — or just your first trip with actual responsibilities — you probably think you need to control every detail. Many of us are “Director of Bands / Choirs / Orchestras / Hormonal Pre-Teens,” after all. We’re in charge.
All we ask is for the kids to:
- Arrive at the same time.
- Play on the required equipment.
- Play the exact notes written on the page.
- Perform the exact rhythms as presented.
- Play all presented articulation — not too long, not too short.
- Match volume and dynamics.
- Play perfectly in tune.
- Wear matching uniforms, from head to toe.
- Sit or stand exactly where we want them to.
- And do all of this at the exact same time.
Besides that, we’re pretty loose and flexible.
So here’s the “hack” right at the start:
Stop trying to do it all yourself. Build a team (including your travel planner), set up shared systems, and hand off real responsibility — so you’re not the only one holding the whole thing together.
The real hack isn’t a magical spreadsheet and an itinerary planned to the second. It’s giving up the myth that you’re supposed to do every single thing yourself.
One Person Can’t Carry It All
The first few years I ran big trips, I bought into the “superhuman director” myth. You know the one — where you’re the first to arrive, the last to leave, and the only one who knows what’s really going on.
I was so convinced it was possible to do it all that I once brought a literal binder with every single document in it — every permission slip, allergy list and payment record — like it was some kind of sacred text. I kept it zipped up tight under my arm, as if disaster would strike if it ever left my sight. I was about to handcuff it to my wrist like a nuclear football, but figured that was going too far.
The result? By trip week, I wasn’t as present as I should have been. And I was taking my stress out on anyone who came near me.
No one — not even the most organized director in the world — can be the sole planner, communicator, medic, snack distributor and logistics expert. There are just too many moving parts. Something will slip, and you’ll pay for it with your sanity.
What finally broke me wasn’t a major disaster. It was the slow, silent accumulation of little misses — permission slips lost, reminders unsent, chaperones unclear on where to be.
I’ll never forget the moment a parent quietly pulled me aside to ask if the hotel had been told about the gluten-free kids. I smiled and lied, then excused myself to place a frantic phone call. It was part of a miserable, stressful experience that neither my students nor I deserved.
For the record: nobody expects you to be superhuman. But they’ll let you try if you volunteer.
The Mindset Shift: Shared Responsibility Isn’t Weakness — It’s Survival
The best trip I ever led? It wasn’t because I became some organizational ninja overnight. It’s because I finally got desperate enough to let other people step in.
I wish I could say this shift came from a place of wisdom, but honestly, it was burnout. I hit a point where I couldn’t answer another email. I alternated between wide-awake with stress, worried I’d miscounted kids and left someone at the venue, and falling asleep at the post-concert pizza party.
But it was a gradual shift. Early on, I’d give out “jobs” but not relinquish control. Now, I lean into what people are good at. One parent loves logistics? They’re in charge of bus loading. Another is an RN? They’re the trip medic. Student leaders handle wake-up calls, equipment checks, or making sure the buses get cleaned up. And when little problems pop up (they always do), I’m not the only one trying to solve them.
Delegating isn’t about lowering your standards, and it’s not dumping your mess on someone else. It’s about building a team that can handle the chaos – and run a better trip – together. Let your helpers know what you need, and let them handle it. It’s safer, the kids are less stressed, and you might finally get to eat your dinner.
Systems: The Unsung Hero of Trip Planning
I wasn’t a natural “systems person.” I was more of a “write emails to myself with the task in the subject line” type. But after years of inbox fatigue, I had to admit the truth: If a task isn’t written down and assigned, it doesn’t get done.
The year I switched to shared checklists was the year I stopped picturing an epi-pen sitting on the counter at an Ohio rest stop. I started using tools like Google Sheets or Trello so everyone — parents, chaperones, student leaders — could see what needed to happen and who was doing it. It’s not about the app – it’s your team being in the know, so everything doesn’t fall to you.
Need someone to double-check the equipment is loaded? It’s on the checklist. Chaperone needs to know who’s got nut allergies? Also on the checklist. The mental load drops the second you realize you don’t have to remember everything.
An unforeseen bonus: When you share these lists early and ask for input, you’ll catch things you would’ve missed. I once had a parent ask why the itinerary didn’t include time for a bathroom stop between lunch and the next performance. Never crossed my mind. That question saved us from certain disaster.
Once people know you have a system, they trust you more. Or at least they trust you’re not going to forget the scores. Two states away. Again.
Forget “Perfect.” I’ll Take “Covered” and “Predictable” Any Day.
Early on, I thought trip success was synonymous with perfection. But the perfect trip doesn’t exist. Something will go sideways — lost instrument, sick kid, late bus. The trick is to have systems in place, so one missed detail doesn’t topple the whole thing.
The year our equipment truck broke down, I didn’t panic (much) because one parent already had kids moving the gear to the buses. It wasn’t fun, but it wasn’t a disaster either.
I’ve started focusing less on “Did we nail every detail?” and more on “Do we have coverage for the things that really matter?” If I’m not wild about the graphic they picked in Canva, but the message gets across, I need to let it go.
When the adults (including you) are calm, the group energy changes to match it. One of my students once told me, “You seemed way more chill on this trip than last time.” Which, coming from a 15-year-old, is basically a five-star review.
You Don’t Have to Be a Hero
You don’t have to lead the perfect trip. You just need to have people and systems in place so you’re not the only one holding it together. This includes parents, administrators and, of course, your travel planner.
Bring others in. Keep everyone in the loop. Let go of the “perfect director” thing.
That’s the real hack — stop trying to be the hero. Your future self will thank you. Your current self will enjoy eating real food and getting actual sleep.
Don Stinson is the director of bands at Joliet Central High School in Joliet, IL, with 18 years of teaching experience and seven student tours under his belt. In addition, he is the author of High Needs, Monumental Successes: Teaching Music to Low-Income and Underserved Students and co-author of Harmonizing Ethics: Scenarios for Music Educators, both available from GIA Publications. Don is the founder of Stinson Non-Profit Solutions – visit www.donstinson.net for more information.
