Guest Contributor:
Don Stinson, Director of Bands, Joliet Central High School, Joliet, IL
“Is this really worth $1,200?”
That was the question a parent asked during our trip meeting. This was before we even got to the Q&A, and before I was even remotely in the mood to start swatting objections. I stared at my slideshow for a minute, trying to decide whether to feel annoyed, defensive, or just tired. My choice? All of the above.
I get it. A thousand bucks isn’t nothing. Especially now. And especially for a school trip that doesn’t come with a college credit or a guaranteed scholarship or a shiny new line on the resumé.
But it is worth it – and if I can’t explain why in a way that actually connects with families, then that’s on me.
You don’t have to justify every expense. But you do have to talk about the experience – clearly, honestly, and like a human being – so the people you’re asking to trust you with their time, money, and kids truly understand what they’re signing up for.
They’re Not Asking for a Line-Item Budget – They’re Asking What It’s For
Early in my career, I used to over-explain. A parent would ask about cost and I’d rattle off the per-student charter bus fee, hotel occupancy rates, and our best guess for breakfast buffet pricing. Like I thought showing them how tight our margins were would make the trip feel more reasonable.
It didn’t. It just made things more confusing.
Most parents don’t actually care about the invoice breakdown. (Most. Not all!) They’re asking: What does this cost mean in terms of my kid’s life?
What I’ve learned is this: lead with the experience, not the expenses.
Now when I get the “Is this worth it?” email, I don’t reach for the logistics doc. I share a quick story instead. Like the time Marcus – one of my quietest percussionists – asked if he could give a speech to the whole band after our final performance. He stood up in our hotel lobby, no mic, no script, and thanked the group for coming together as a family.
Or I’ll mention Amy, who had never left Illinois before our Tennessee trip and now wants to study music education – because she saw what was possible when she stood in front of an audience that really listened.
Tell the story. The one that really happened. It’ll do more than a pie chart ever will.
Travel Is Teaching – Say That Out Loud
We put a lot of energy into the “music” part of music education. Rehearsals. Assessments. Scores and rubrics and concerts.
But some of the most meaningful growth I’ve seen didn’t happen during warm-up or sectionals. It happened in TSA lines, late-night hotel hallways, or trying to figure out how to split a fast-food order. (Life lesson: watching four teenagers divide one value meal and a pile of crumpled cash will make you question whether math is even real.)
There’s a moment on every trip when I watch a student unlock something they didn’t know they had – confidence, patience, grit. Once, I watched two kids who never spoke at school spend four hours on a bus sharing AirPods and swapping family stories. The next week? They were sitting together at lunch.
That’s not fluff. Travel yanks them out of their usual context – and that’s when the good stuff happens.
If your admin asks how the trip connects to learning outcomes, here’s the answer: Travel is teaching.
It’s teaching responsibility, collaboration, time management and real-world awareness. It’s helping students practice empathy when they room with someone new, advocate for themselves when something goes wrong, and learn what it’s like to be part of something bigger than themselves. For some students, this is the first time they’ve had to be responsible for themselves. (And thank goodness we have the guidance of BRT with us!)
One year, I had a student return from our trip and say, “I didn’t realize I could handle that much stuff on my own.” There’s the win. That’s the line I think about when I get caught in the details.
Keep It Human, Not Institutional
Sometimes I catch myself slipping into overly formal language. For a resume? You can certainly write “Facilitated major travel while applying safety and procedural standards in accordance with the district and primary stakeholders.” (Translation: we took a field trip.)
But a parent meeting? Once I said something like, “The educational components of this experience align with our program’s overarching goals…” And I heard myself and thought, What am I even saying? Why am I talking like a grant writer?
That’s not how I talk. And more importantly, that’s not how parents listen.
So now, I try to keep it simple and grounded. Here’s what I usually say:
“We work hard all year in rehearsal. This trip is a chance for your child to perform somewhere special, bond with their classmates, and do something that stays with them. It’s not just fun – it’s part of what makes the year feel complete.”
That sentence works. It’s clear, it’s true, and it sounds like me.
Same goes for all kinds of messaging. Your trip announcement doesn’t need to sound like a PR blast. Post some behind-the-scenes rehearsal clips. Share a photo of last year’s performance with a simple caption like, “One of the best parts of the year. Can’t wait to go back.”
People connect to people – not brochures.
You Don’t Need Everyone to Love It – But You Do Need a Few Who Believe in It
There’s always going to be someone who questions it. That doesn’t mean you’re doing something wrong.
But what can help – especially with first-time travelers – is hearing a few voices besides yours. When people hear from people they relate to, it helps the message to stick.
Every year, I ask one or two returning parents if they’d be willing to say a few words at our info night. Nothing scripted, just “What did this trip mean for your family?” I remember one mom who said, “This trip was the first time my son really took ownership of something. He packed, he planned, and for once I didn’t have to nag him to care.”
I could have talked for an hour and not made that point as well as she did in 30 seconds.
I also let students share. Sometimes it’s a slide show. (Always pre-approved by me. I’ll never make that mistake again…) Sometimes it’s a quick shout-out during rehearsal. But when a kid says, “That was the most fun I’ve ever had in band,” other students hear that differently than when it comes from me.
And if I’m honest, sometimes I need those reminders too. When I’m knee-deep in the admin part of my job, I’ll scroll back through old photos or re-read the thank-you notes students wrote afterward. Those voices matter.
They’re why I do this – and they help keep the momentum going when it gets tough.
If You Believe It’s Worth It, Say So
Trips are valuable. They’re not extra. They’re part of what makes the year feel real.
Even now, I still hesitate before sending that first parent letter. I know some families will stress about the cost. I know there’s pressure not to seem tone-deaf. I get caught thinking, What if they think I’m asking too much?
But then I remember: I’m not selling something random. I’m offering an experience I truly believe is good for their kid.
So I lead with that. I say:
“We know this isn’t a small ask. But we also know this trip will stay with students long after the year is over. That’s why we’ve worked hard to build in payment plans, fundraising, crowdfunding and scholarship options. We want every student to have the chance to be part of this.”
You don’t have to have all the answers. But if you believe it’s worth it, don’t bury that. Say it with clarity. Say it like it matters – because it does.
What It’s Really Worth
If you’re nervous about communicating cost, don’t start with numbers. Start with why you’re taking the trip in the first place. Start with the moment that made you believe this kind of experience is worth doing again.
You don’t have to become a marketing expert. You just have to speak like the teacher you already are – the one who knows that what happens outside the classroom often sticks longer than anything that happens inside.
No need to over-polish it. Just tell the truth. The good kind – the kind that helps people see what you already know.
And if one more person emails you asking if it’s really worth it… that’s your cue. Tell them what happened last year. Or the year before that. Or the kid who came back changed.
That’s what they’re really asking.
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.