Life After a Musical Theatre Degree

Twitter/@krista_coniglio

by Gretchen Midgely & Chris Peterson

Graduation is terrifying no matter what major you picked. But if you're a musical theatre student, it’s a special kind of nerve-wracking. It’s not just a goodbye to the comfort of your college bubble. It’s walking offstage mid-show with no script for what happens next.

Most of our peers walk across that stage with a pretty clear path ahead. Education majors already have teaching jobs lined up. Nursing students have hospitals waiting for them. The accounting majors are basically being begged to join someone’s firm. And the English majors, God love them, are gearing up for round two because what the world really needs is more people with MAs in English.

But for theatre kids? There’s no set next step. There’s no magical MFA that guarantees you a Broadway contract. Some lucky grads are headed to national tours, cruise ships, or regional gigs. And honestly, that’s amazing. But what about when those gigs end? Or if you’re like a lot of us and heading straight into survival jobs like babysitting, bartending, or folding sweaters at the Gap while the audition grind begins?

We’ve spent four years living in an ecosystem built for us. Constant rehearsals. Feedback from directors who know how to push us. Daily dance classes. Weekly voice lessons. Friends who will run sides with you at midnight and faculty who believe in you even when you don’t. That bubble pops real fast after graduation. Suddenly your voice lesson costs more than your grocery bill and no one’s grading your dance call.

I don’t have the answers. Honestly, I barely have clean laundry. But I do have a few resolutions to make sure I carry those four years with me, even without a college ID or a passcode to the practice room.

1. Keep Practicing

Sure, I’m not seeing my voice teacher every Tuesday at 10 a.m. anymore, but I still have all those lessons recorded. I know what my trouble spots are. I know how to fix them. It just means I have to be my own coach now. Instead of hearing “drop your tongue” or “spin the vowel” in real time, I have to rewind those phrases in my head and make the adjustments myself. I’m still building the voice I want. It just takes a little more intention and a lot more self-discipline. And maybe a hairbrush mic and a quiet roommate.

2. Dance, Dance, Dance (No, Seriously)

If I walk into a tap audition and look like I just pulled shoes out of a Halloween costume bin, I will simply evaporate. So I’m keeping it up. Drop-in classes when I can, teaching little kids for extra cash, even dancing around the living room if that’s what it takes. I’m lucky enough that my college tap teacher lets alumni crash class before big auditions. Shoutout to actual angels walking among us. You better believe I’ll be taking advantage of that. And if you ever need someone to do “All That Jazz” at karaoke, I’ll be ready.

3. Use the Alumni Net (It’s Stronger Than You Think)

We’re all scattering. Some of us are heading to Chicago storefronts, New York black boxes, Orlando theme parks, or LA comedy clubs. But we still have each other. If I hear about a gig that screams my friend Jasmine, I’m sending it her way. If a director needs a lighting designer, I’m calling up Leo. The more we help each other, the more this messy industry starts to feel like a community again. Nicki just sent me a new musicals competition she saw on Instagram. Yesterday I passed a voiceover job to a classmate who crushes accents. It’s little things like that. They matter.

4. Keep Teachers in the Loop

Don’t disappear into the ether. These folks didn’t just teach us to belt. They cared. They still care. And they’re still working professionals who hear about auditions and projects before we ever do. Stay in touch. Let them know what you’re up to, even if it’s just “I survived my first open call and only cried once.” They’ll remember your name when someone’s casting a reading. They’ll suggest you for the internship that could change your path. And beyond all that, they’ll remind you that you’re not alone. They were your cheerleaders for four years. That doesn’t stop now just because you’ve graduated.

Bonus: Be Kind to Yourself

You’re not behind. You’re not failing. You’re not the only one who’s not booked yet. This isn’t a sprint, and “making it” looks different for everyone. Some of us will be onstage next month. Some of us are going to find our calling choreographing, or writing, or teaching. And some of us are just trying to figure it out while we sling coffee and send in self-tapes. That’s okay. We’re allowed to not have it all together.

So no, I don’t have all the answers. But I have a pretty good degree, a packed mental toolbox, and a tribe of fellow artists who get it. That’s not a bad place to start.